Archive of Our Own

“Should we play a show in Columbia?”

“Why the fuck would we do that?”

“I don’t know! It could be fun! There’s lots of things to do around there, and if we get bored Palmetto is only like an hour away.”

“....”

“....”

“Is this about that fucking exy team you like?”

“What? No! Of course not! I just think it would be nice to do a favor for a smaller venue, and I heard that Eden’s has a chill vibe.”

“Whatever, book it I guess. But you get to be the one to tell Andrew that we’re playing at some seedy, backwoods nightclub just so you can feed your exy addiction.”

“I don’t know why I ever joined this band.”

~

Andrew sauntered towards the front of the small stage, guitar hanging around his neck, feet landing squarely on the red x that had been marked in tape hours ago. He enjoyed the few moments of darkness, preparing himself for the spotlight that would soon be blasting him.

Behind him the instrumentals faded away, the heavy drums and guitar transitioning into a quieter, synthesized piano sound. Contrary to the quieting music, the crowd roared, anticipation building as they waited for what they knew would come next. It was the most famous part of their most famous song after all. 

He was fine with the semi-screamo vibe the rest of the song was filled with, but the upcoming verse was by far his favorite, and it had become the world’s favorite too. Right after the song came out, to Kevin’s neverending delight and Andrew’s immense disgust, the final segment quickly became a trending tiktok song, a backdrop to try hard “edgy” men showing off their motorcycles and an anthem to the dark romance girls of “booktok”. 

He hated that it had been used that way, hated the almost overplayed nature of it these days, the stream of fans that flooded their shows only seeming to know the one song. But whenever they played it, the crowd cheered loud enough to be heard over their ear pieces, even when they were playing small underground shows like the one they were currently in the middle of, and Andrew found some twisted sense of satisfaction in that.

Dim blue lights slowly lit up around the front of the stage, highlighting his silhouette, and he readied his guitar, leaning into the mic set up in front of him. He glanced up, patiently counting down the final beats leading up to the next verse when his eyes caught on blue. 

A short man stood near the front of the crowd, glacier gaze focused completely on Andrew.

Andrew was used to having attention on him, had played sold out stadiums and talk shows with thousands watching, but this gaze felt different, and he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it earlier in the night. He felt as though this mystery man was flaying him open, seeing something other than just Andrew standing there with his guitar. 

He wasn’t screaming or cheering with the rest of the crowd, wasn’t even swaying to the music. He simply stood there, drink in hand and an odd look of curiosity on his face, as if he was wondering what would come next, trying to figure out why the crowd was getting louder and louder with every passing second. 

Interesting.

The spotlight flashed on and the noise of the crowd swelled once more. Andrew knew how it looked, had seen videos on YouTube, short clips of this very moment depicting Andrew, lit from above while the rest of the band sat in darkness behind him. He always closed out the tabs before he could hear himself singing, couldn’t bear to hear his own voice so open and filled with emotion. He also made a point to steer clear of the comments that waxed poetic about how sexy his voice sounded, the proprietary nature that some of the fans viewed him causing his skin to itch. 

He knew that he should look away, let his gaze wander over the rest of the crowd, get lost in the shadowed sea of faces. But his eyes were glued on the lithe figure in front of him. 

Maybe nothing would come of it. He would finish this set and never see the man again, move onto the next city and the next tour until he could erase the piercing blue eyes from the front of his mind. 

Maybe the next day he’d wake up to videos and articles trying to figure out who Andrew was singing to in the crowd, a tidal wave of overager tabloids trying to sniff out a meaning where there wasn’t one, always eager to pry when it came to the lead singer of ‘The Monsters’. 

For some reason, it didn’t matter to Andrew. Hazel met blue and Andrew began singing the lyrics he had written just over a year ago.

Oh, and my love

Did I mistake you for a sign from god

The redhead tilted his head slightly, silky curls shifting with the movement. Neither man broke eye contact.

Or are you really here to cast me off?

Or maybe just to turn me on

The crowd roared, eating up every second of the final moments of the song. The redhead smiled slightly, taking another sip of his drink. Andrew wanted to devour him.

‘Cause these days

I would be lying if I told you that 

I didn’t wish that I could be your man

Or maybe make a good boy bad 

The stage behind him lit up as the other members of his band began adding their instruments back into the song. He knew if he turned he would see Kevin near the piano, or Aaron tapping out a steady beat on the drums. Nicky, who was always so energetic, would be stoic as he plucked away at the bass, providing back up vocals to Andrew’s own voice. 

He didn’t turn. 

He held eye contact through the next line, and the next, and the next, until the lights lowered on the stage, signaling the end of the set. A shitty curtain rolled down in front of them, eaten around the edges by moths and stained from various drinks over the years, forcefully cutting off his view of the man in the crowd. 

He wanted to rush out, shove his way through the crowd till he could find the guy, ask him his name. But Andrew forced himself to move slowly. He took off his guitar, handing it to the stage guy who rushed to pack it away with the rest of their equipment. He bumped fists with his brother as he stepped past the drum set and took a slow sip of water backstage. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, an unfortunate consequence of standing under warm stage lights in an all black ensemble for a little under two hours. 

He loitered for a second longer, torn between his desire to seek the man out and his innate instinct to rebel against anything that could be considered a want. Including hot redheads with amazing bodies. 

He finally gave into his body’s needs, deciding he would find the man and offer him a quick handjob backstage when Kevin came rushing off the stage, practically vibrating with energy. Andrew, assuming he was just gearing up for another post show debrief, considered just shoving past him to go find his hookup for the night, when Kevin surprised him. 

“I can’t believe it. He’s here!”

“Whose here?” Nicky asked, waltzing off the stage.

“Neil Wymack! I noticed him come in near the end of the set and I almost shit myself.” 

The name meant nothing to Andrew, but he didn’t ask. He simply sat back and let Nicky handle the conversation.

“If you’re so excited you should go say hi.” 

“Say hi?? Just say hi?? Do you know who he is?!”

Nicky didn’t blink, unfazed in the face of Kevin’s dramatics.

“Do you know who you are? You’re a part of one of the top bands in the country right now. You played a sold out stadium less than a week ago. Just go introduce yourself.” 

Kevin shook his head immediately, “I can’t. He’s the number one striker in collegiate exy right now, I can’t just walk up and say ‘hi’”

Nicky shot him an amused glance, “You’re nervous to say hi to a college kid. Really?”

Kevin threw his hands up in frustration, "Did you not hear me?! The. Number. One. Player. In the sport right now on a college level. He still has two years left and already has offers from almost every pro team. He’s projected to be court without having even played a single second in a professional game.” He scratched the back of his neck, muttering something so quietly that not even Andrew caught it, and he was standing right next to the man. 

“What was that Kev?” Nicky prodded, making his way closer.

Kevin sighed, "I said, it doesn’t help that he’s maybe a little good looking too.”

Nicky’s smile was so wide, Andrew was surprised he didn’t tear his cheeks a little. 

“Oh this is too good, you have to point him out to us now.” His cousin made his way to the curtain, pulling it to the side slightly so that they could peek out without being seen in return. 

Andrew made his way over as well, curiosity getting the better of him. It was well known that Kevin was bi, but it was also known that rarely anybody caught his eye. For the most part he was content just being single, and Andrew was curious as to who could have gotten his attention in the first place, let alone make him that flustered. 

Kevin shook his head, but walked over to the curtain anyway, bending down slightly as the three of them peered out. Kevin scanned the crowd for a second before pointing towards the bar. 

“There he is, the small redhead wearing the black hoodie.”

And oh, wasn’t that just great. At least Andrew could put a name to the face, he thought as he stared at his mystery man from the crowd. Neil Wymack.

Nicky let out a low whistle, “Woah, you weren’t kidding. That man is fucking fine.”

Kevin nodded enthusiastically, “See! That’s why I can’t just waltz out there and say hello.”

“I can,” Andrew said before pushing the curtain aside and hopping off the stage, ignoring the indignant splutters behind him. 

The crowd immediately locked in on him, surging forward to ask for autographs and pictures, but he shoved past them all, shouldering through the wall of bodies until he broke free at the bar, depositing himself right in front of the redhead who had unexpectedly taken over his night. 

“Hi.” Andrew said, voice rough and gravelly, a byproduct of a night spent screaming and singing. 

“Hi.”

“I saw you in the crowd.” Andrew said, very very stupidly.

The redhead smirked, “I saw you on the stage.”

“Andrew.”

“Neil.” Andrew noted the man didn’t hold out his hand to shake, simply nodding his head in greeting instead. 

“What are you drinking, Neil” Andrew asked, jerking his head towards the near empty glass in his hands.

The smirk deepened. Andrew saw the faintest hint of a dimple beginning to form and took a deep breath.

“A shirley temple.”

Andrew raised his eyebrow, but signaled for the bartender anyway. 

“I don’t drink much. Besides, I like the cherries.” He popped said cherry into his mouth, stem and all. A moment later he plucked the stem from his teeth, a new knot nestled in the center of it. Andrew’s mouth started to water.

He opened his mouth to say something – he wasn’t quite sure what – when he felt a presence at his back. 

“Hi Andrew, making new friends?” Nicky asked, pushing himself forward to stand by Andrew’s side. 

“Hi, I’m Nicky. Bass player.” He held his hand out to shake, and Neil looked at it wairily for a second before extending his own. They shook for a moment before Neil pulled away looking slightly uncomfortable. Nicky wasn’t done yet though, and jerked his thumb over his shoulder, drawing attention to an anxious looking Kevin hovering behind him. 

“This is Kevin, he plays the piano for the band,” Kevin gave a sad, little wave, “And that,” Nicky continued, pointing towards Aaron who was making his way towards them from the stage, the crowd of people around them growing rapidly as the entire band settled in at the bar, “Is Aaron. He plays the drums. And obviously you’ve met Andrew.”

“The singer,” Neil supplied. 

“And lead guitarist.” Nicky added, looking a little too happy. 

“Singer and lead guitarist,” Neil repeated back to them, turning towards Andrew again, “What an extensive skill set you have.”

Andrew went to retort something about his other skills, but was cut off before he could open his mouth.

“Ew. Stop that,” A tall man said from behind Neil, a strong french accent shaping his words and a vague look of horror on his face as he stared down at the redhead.

“This is Jean,” Neil introduced without breaking eye contact with Andrew, “Unfortunately we don’t have any cool titles to add.” 

“That’s not true,” Kevin argued, “You’re a starting striker for PSU, and Jean is a starting backliner.”

Neil raised his eyebrows, “Fox fan?” he asked, and Kevin grinned sheepishly, a heavy blush settling on his cheeks.

“Foxes and Trojans. Hard to choose between the two.”

“Knox will be pleased to hear that,” the Frenchman sniffed, “he is a big fan of your band.”

Neil turned back towards Jean, confusion evident on his face, “Jeremy knows this band? I thought they were locals.”

“You don’t know us?” Nicky asked shocked, drawing Neil’s attention back to Andrew’s group.

“Unfortunately not, but in my defense, I didn’t think a big band would be playing here.” He gestured around the dingy nightclub with its dirty floors and watered down booze. 

“Do not mind him,” Jean interjected, “He had an atypical childhood and it has irrevocably damaged him. It doesn’t help that he practically lives under a rock.” Neil shrugged, but didn’t disagree.

“Anyways, I will pass a hello Knox’s way for you” Jean directed the end of his sentence to Kevin, who shook his head.

“No, if you are going to tell him anything, tell him that he looks to the left whenever he tries to feint right. Hamson has caught on to it and that's why he’s always able to stop that play. If he wants to do better he needs to fix it before the season starts.” 

Neil snorted, “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely deliver that message.”

Kevin frowned, “And you. I’ve seen some of the practice videos, you’re moving slower this year. You won’t make it to the finals at that speed.” 

“Kevin!” Nicky chided, but Neil smiled good naturedly at the comment. 

“Yeah, I switched to a heavier racquet. It adds more power to my swings, but I’m going through a bit of an adjustment period right now. I’m not too worried considering it's still preseason. I have two months to figure it out.” He tilted his head, squinting a bit. “You seem like you know your stuff, do you play?”

Kevin blushed harder, shuffling his feet, “A little. Just some clubs here and there when I have the time. I wanted to go pro when I was younger, but then we started the band in high school…” he shrugged, as if to say what can you do.

Neil nodded, “What position?”

“Striker”

“Well, if you keep playing club you should try out a heavier racquet, even if it's just for a few games. Could be fun.” Neil looked back at Andrew. 

“Any chance you play exy?” he asked.

Andrew raised an eyebrow and let that do the talking for him. Did he look like someone who played exy?

A short laugh tumbled out of Neil’s mouth, “Figured. But if you ever want someone to teach you…”

Jean groaned behind him, “That’s it. I must tell Jeremy about this immediately.” 

Neil spit out something in rapid fire French, the smirk never falling off his face, and a light blush blossomed across the Frenchman's cheeks. Andrew wished that Kevin was paying attention so he could translate, but a quick glance behind him showed that their pianist was already knee deep in reddit threads on what heavy racquet would suit him best. 

Neil opened his mouth to say something else to Andrew, when a loud ringing filled the air.  Andrew watched as the man dug an old, battered phone out of his back pocket, flipping it open and holding it to his ear. 

“Hey” A short pause followed the greeting, “Uh huh. Yeah, we can be there in like an hour. Okay, see you then. Love you too” 

He flipped the phone closed and tossed it onto the bar. 

“Well, Jean and I have to go, but it’s been nice talking with you.”

“And why are we leaving?” Jean asked

“That was dad. He said your recruit is causing issues and we have to go play babysitter for the night.”

Jean pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fucking jack.”

Neil smiled, downed the rest of his Shirley temple, and went to slide his phone into his back pocket, pausing at Andrew’s outstretched hand. He quickly pieced together the request and dropped the ancient brick in Andrew’s palm. 

Andrew wasted no time entering his number. 

The groups said their goodbyes and Andrew watched as the duo walked away, eyes drawn to the sway of Neil’s hip and the swell of his ass. Kevin snorted from beside him.

“Good luck with that. He hasn’t dated anyone since he started playing for Palmetto. I’d be surprised if he ever texted you.” 

Andrew didn’t bother to respond, choosing instead to take a long sip of his whiskey. He’d either text him or he wouldn’t. Andrew would just have to wait and see. 

~

“Fuck, Andrew” 

Andrew hummed in agreement, pushing down on Neil’s abdomen as the man clawed at the hotel’s sheets. 

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” Neil warned, and Andrew renewed his efforts, hollowing his cheeks as he took Neil even further into his mouth. A strangled moan tore out of Neil’s lips before his back arched off the bed, and Andrew helped him through the orgasm until the aftershock sent tiny trembles running down his limbs, vibrating against Andrew’s back from where his legs were thrown over his shoulder. 

Andrew quickly palmed himself through his jeans, trying to keep control until he could get to the bathroom and take care of himself. It wasn’t often that he had this problem. In fact he had never almost come untouched before, but it seemed Neil brought out a lot of sides that Andrew wasn’t aware he had. 

When the redhead finally settled down, Andrew lifted his legs from over his shoulders, being careful to not jostle the man too much while he was still sensitive. Neil propped himself up on his elbows, looking at Andrew curiously. 

“Do you want me to…” he looked down at Andrew’s crotch pointedly, but Andrew shook his head. He knew he should get up, step away from the bedroom and check in on his state of mind, but he still took a moment to stare. 

He raked his eyes over the man in the bed, taking in Neil in all his glory. His curls were tousled and tangled, damp from sweat that made the strands look darker than they really were. His abs scrunched together as he held himself up, showcasing the strong muscles under his skin, and a slight flush colored his chest as he took in shaky breaths, still visibly winded. 

He was painfully gorgeous, twisted up in the white linens, nothing but long, toned limbs and wild curls. Freckles were splattered across his entire body, stark against his pale skin, only interrupted by a few painful looking scars that wrapped around his torso, including one that was suspiciously in the shape of a hot iron. Andrew finally pushed himself to his feet and took a couple of steps towards the bathroom. Once at the threshold, he turned back to find Neil still staring at him. 

“Stay.” he said, a surprise for both of them. 

This would normally be the point in the night where he would send his hookup on their way, an uber he had ordered for them already idling on the curb outside. But for some reason, the thought of coming back out to an empty bed, when he could have Neil waiting there for him instead, twisted his stomach unpleasantly.

Andrew had come a long way since his childhood, had years of therapy and hard work under his belt, but still, he wasn’t a relationship guy. He hooked up with random men, and if they happened to be good at keeping their hands to themselves, he might pay them another visit when he happened to be in town. 

Then Neil came along, and he gave him his number, and he turned down Roland the next time he saw him, and he flew out to visit Neil, and he asked him to stay in the bed after what they met up to do was over. Andrew wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but he had decided to just go along with what felt right. And spending the night wrapped up with Neil felt right.

Neil nodded and fell back against the sheets, pulling a pillow under his head. Andrew stood in the doorway a second longer, watching as Neil fought to keep his eyes open. When it became apparent that it was a battle Neil was going to lose, Andrew slid into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

He turned the water as high as it could go, and watched his reflection disappear behind a wall of steam. Once the room became uncomfortably hot, chasing all his chills away, he turned the water down slightly and stepped under the spray, bracing one hand against the tile while he grabbed himself with the other. He thought of the taste and weight of Neil on his tongue, the delicate slope of his neck as he threw his head back, the way he said Andrew like he was the answer to all his problems. It didn’t take long until his hips were stuttering to a stop, his release spraying against the tile wall. Andrew dropped his forehead to the tile, breathing deeply. It had been awhile since it felt like that. 

He turned the water off, not reading too much into it. 

He came out to the bedside lamp still on and Neil passed out on the bed, face peaceful in sleep. Andrew stood next to him, poking him in the ribs until his eyes fluttered open.

“Hgnrnrgn?” Neil asked, or at least Andrew thought he did. 

“Laying in bed with you. Yes or no?” Neil mumbled a quick yes and scooted over to make room, Andrew slipping under the covers next to him with ease. After a moment's deliberation, he reached over and pulled Neil in, tucking his back against his own chest. Neil snuggled further into his space, wriggling until he was comfortable with Andrew’s arm draped over him. It took only a few seconds for his breathing to deepen, and Neil was out once again. 

In the dark hotel room, wrapped around another man, Andrew drifted off into a dreamless sleep. 

~

“As excited as I am that you feel like writing again, we don’t have time. We have our U.S. tour, then the European leg right after that. But once we are done, we will lock ourselves in the studio for days.” Nicky promised as he stirred the noodles in the pot. Andrew sat at the kitchen island, a worn black journal on the counter in front of him. 

He understood Nicky, but the urge to be recording something was an itch under his skin, a need that he couldn’t get rid of. It had been so long since he had been inspired to pick up a pencil and write again, but lately it was almost all he could think about. 

He very pointedly ignored the fact that a certain redhead was serving as the inspiration for most of the songs in his head at the moment. 

“Andrew! Are you watching the game with me or not?” Kevin yelled from the living room of their penthouse, voice echoing through the spacious kitchen. 

Andrew heaved himself off the barstool and made his way to the sofa, forcing himself to walk slowly in order to not seem too eager. He figured it didn’t matter. The fact he was willingly watching an exy game spoke volumes in itself. They were back home in L.A. on a Friday night. Roland was working a shift at a bar just fifteen minutes away. 

Andrew lowered himself onto the couch. 

Kevin was the most excited about this new development, taking time out of his day to update Andrew on certain player’s stats and the game lineup for the upcoming season. He quickly found out that Andrew would only pay attention when Neil was involved, and had tried to tailor most of his talks to revolve around the Foxes. 

Different news ran across the bottom of the screen, reports regarding a wide variety of other collegiate sports. Andrew didn’t bother reading them. His attention was completely on the orange and white figures that had just trotted onto the court for the first game of the season, eyes zeroing in on #10 as if he had some sort of beacon that only Andrew could see. He watched as Neil, clad in an orange jersey with the name ‘WYMACK’ spread across the back, clacked his racket against a far taller player sporting the same hideous jersey, only with the word ‘MOREAU’ taking up the name space.

The game was, unfortunately, entertaining, despite the fact that Andrew was filled with anger the few times that Neil was slammed into the plexi glass walls. The Foxes won 7-4, with Neil scoring 4 of the points and assisting with the other 3. Andrew was pretty sure he saw hearts in Kevin’s eyes as he watched the redhead run up and down the court, spinning around the opposing team’s backliners as if he was dancing. 

From an objective point of view, he could see what the sports broadcasters were talking about. Neil would be court. There was no question about it, not when he played as if he had everything on the line. 

From a subjective point of view, he found it incredibly hot and was beginning to wonder if he may have a competency kink. 

The broadcast switched from a view of the court to a close up from one of the press’ cameras. Andrew watched on their 85 inch T.V, in high definition, as a sweaty and disheveled Neil pulled his helmet off, beads of sweat rolling down his neck, lips upturned in a wicked smile. Exertion caused his chest to heave and a deep flush to spread across his cheeks. 

Andrew sighed and pulled out his phone, booking another flight to South Carolina. 

~

The bed squeaked as Andrew settled in next to Neil, and he wondered if they had broken it this go round. He had faintly heard the sound of the headboard hitting the wall in a steady rhythm, but he had been so lost in pleasure that he dismissed it easily, more intent on bringing Neil to his peak. 

Now the bed that had had no problems at the beginning of the night was protesting any slight movement from the occupants. Andrew huffed out a slight laugh. He didn’t care, he had the money to fix it 100 times over. It was worth it to see the sated look on Neil's face afterwards, to feel the looseness of his normally tense body as he laid against Andrew’s bare chest, tracing shapes and words across the sensitive skin. 

“I got you something.” Andrew murmured, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful moment. 

Neil sat up anyways, a curious look on his face, and Andrew slid out of bed and padded across the room, ignoring the path of discarded clothing and the used condom sitting in the trash. He rooted through his duffle bag until he found the plain black box and tossed it onto the bed, staying across the room while Neil opened it. 

“Andrew, I can't take this.” Neil said, staring at the object inside. 

Andrew, who had been expecting pushback after getting to know the boy after so many months, simply nodded his head. 

“You can and you will.” he said, taking a few steps closer. 

Neil sighed and closed the box on the brand new iphone. 

“Fine. But I’m paying you back. You’re not buying me a phone.” 

Andrew shook his head. “It’s a gift, and you know that the money doesn’t matter to me. Try to pay me back and I’ll hit you with my car.” 

Neil snorted and patted the space next to him on the bed. 

“Fine. Thank you. Why did you get me a new phone anyway?” 

Andrew laid back down, pulling Neil onto him once again. 

“We’re going on tour soon, and I’m tired of having to get all my pictures of you through Jean’s socials.” 

“You want me to send you photos?” Neil asked.

“I don’t want anything.”

Neil sat up, looking into Andrew’s face, “Sorry, let me try that again. You want me to send you photos?” 

He emphasized his question by wiggling his eyebrows, though the movement was awkward and jerky. 

“Never do that again. You are not sexy.” Andrew said, pushing his face away. 

Neil laughed and stood up, revealing a large expanse of bare skin. Andrew’s cock twitched in interest.

“Fine, I’ll take my not sexy self and go shower alone.” Neil said, striding across the room towards the bathroom, his ass unfairly tantalizing. Andrew jumped from the bed and chased after him, muffling the sound of Neil’s laugh with his own lips.

~

“Attention passengers, we are preparing for take off. Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for immediate departure” 

Andrew swallowed drily before tugging on his seatbelt, making sure it wouldn’t budge. Their private jet was far more luxurious than any plane needed to be. Plush seats, a full bar, a wide selection of snacks and meals, and a full crew on stand by. 

None of this made the experience any better. 

He opened his phone and began rereading his texts with Neil to help calm him down. The foxes had no game that week, which meant Neil was free to fly up to New York for the first show of the tour. Andrew had insisted on paying for his ticket, which Neil begrudgingly agreed to after a three day stand off. The only reason he ended up agreeing in the end was Andrew’s reminder that he had originally wanted to send the private jet to pick him up, but Neil had shot that down with a resounding ‘no’ and a rather jovial, ‘you’re so stupid sometimes Andrew.’

Andrew hadn’t complained and settled for purchasing him a first class ticket both ways, ignoring Neil’s grumbles of ‘too much money’ and ‘I ride a bus from the seventies to get to most of my away games, I can handle economy.’.

The Monsters would land at noon and go straight to the studio for sound check. Neil would fly in around four and a driver would deliver him to the hotel first so he could put his luggage in their room before shuttling him to the stadium. Then he would be free to relax and hang around backstage until the show started. Andrew knew he would have trouble focusing during sound check.

The flight and following hours went rather quickly, and Andrew soon found himself standing anxiously near the backdoors, the latest update from Neil saying he was five minutes out. That text had come in four minutes ago, and Andrew was annoyed at how ridiculous he was being. Neil would get there when got there and that was all there was to it. 

That thought process didn’t stop him from tearing the door open at the very first knock, revealing a hoodie clad Neil who beamed when he saw him. 

“Hey Andrew.”

Andrew grabbed his sleeve and tugged him inside, pressing him against the door as he kissed along his jaw and mouthed down his throat. A quiet thump disrupted the silence as Neil let his head fall back against the door, exposing more skin to Andrew’s mission. Andrew was going to eat him whole. 

A door banging open in the distance pulled him away from Neil reluctantly, and once he was sure the menace was situated with anything he needed, he pulled himself away and made his way towards the rest of the band. Aaron took one look at his swollen lips and slightly rumpled clothes and grinned.

“Neil’s here?” he snarked, and Andrew threw a drumstick at his head for his troubles. Aaron just laughed and batted it away before continuing to set up. 

A few hours later Andrew was watching Nicky work the crowd before stepping forward to the front of the stage. A flash of red caught his eye from the wings and he turned slightly, making eye contact with Neil as he sang the first words of the entire tour. 

~

Andrew slammed Neil against the wall, hitching his legs up and around his waist. He was sweaty and still in his stage clothes, but Neil didn’t seem to care, happily latching onto Andrew’s neck and sucking an array of bruises along his collar bone. Andrew bucked his hips against Neil’s once, then twice before pulling back, forcing himself to slow down before the night ended prematurely. Neil chased him for a second before leaning back against the wall, letting Andrew hold his weight as they both took some deep breaths. 

Once Andrew was calmer, he leaned back in, tracing Neil’s lips with his tongue, licking along the seam until he opened up for him, making space for Andrew to slip his tongue inside and lick into his mouth. Neil hummed appreciatively, sliding his hands up and down Andrew’s arms, spots that had been deemed safe months ago. Andrew moved away from his mouth and started on his jaw again, slower, more controlled. By the time he finally lifted him away and tossed him onto the bed, they were both out of breath. He took a second to stare down at the man who seemed to be in a constant state of dishevelment around Andrew. 

He slowly climbed over him, bearing his weight on his forearms as he hovered above the man. He lost himself in the blue of Neil’s eyes until the other man slowly reached up, wrapping his arm around Andrew’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. 

Andrew was helpless to do anything other than oblige him. 

~

Months passed in a similar state. 

Neil made it to every show he could, flying out and staying for a night, the two waking up wrapped around each other, the previous night's clothes tossed around the room. 

In turn, Andrew watched every game with Kevin, watching as the foxes held tight to their spot in first, watching the years long rivalry between Neil and a raven’s player named Riko Moriyama only amp up in intensity as the season went on. 

“Why do you hate him so much?” Andrew had asked one night over the phone, staring at a pile of half written lyrics that had been rewritten and crossed out so many times that Andrew had simply given up and shoved them away before calling Neil to clear his mind. 

“He’s Riko Moriyama. There’s a lot to hate. You’ll get it if you ever meet him.” 

Andrew listened as Neil prattled on about Riko’s long list of insufferable attributes. He was a bigoted rich kid, spoiled from a life of wealth. He also had an inferiority complex caused by his dad favoring his older brother his entire life, and he had become a total asshole after the Foxes had beat the Raven’s Neil’s freshman year. 

“It spiraled after that,” Neil explained, “he would seek me out at banquets and games, tweet shitty stuff about the foxes, play dirty when we were on the court together. So I pushed back just as hard. The rest is history.” 

Only it wasn’t just history, and Andrew spent one nerve wracking game sitting on the edge of the couch with Kevin, watching as the Foxes and Ravens duked it out on the court, elbows and racquets flying, strikers being pummeled into the glass. Andrew had lied to Neil – by omission, but still a lie – when he had let him assume that he had never played before. He had been a goalie in juvie, and a damn good one at that. Watching the Foxes goalie let in more goals than he should have filled him with an odd sort of feeling. What if he had been in that goal? What if he had been watching Neil’s back? It didn’t matter now. He was successful and far preferred writing music to hitting balls all day, but he still wondered. 

The game ended with a shoot out, a narrow win by the foxes that resulted in blows between the two teams. When an exhausted Neil facetimed him later that night, he got to see the new black eye Neil would be sporting over the next week. Andrew didn’t admit how hot he found it. 

While on the phone, Neil tried to invite him to a few of his games in person, but the tour was demanding and Andrew wouldn’t be able to make any of them. Neil took it well, cheerfully proclaiming ‘maybe another time then’ and moving on with his night, talking about the next show he’d be able to fly out for and how excited he was to see Andrew again. 

Andrew checked the schedule and booked a flight to South Carolina for the next free weekend he had. There was no game, but he’d be able to hold and see Neil, which was all that mattered.

~

They were once again laying in what Andrew now deemed their hotel bed. A record breaking amount of three used condoms were laying in the trash by the bed, but Neil was an unusual ball of energy, anxiety humming around him so strongly that Andrew thought he could reach out and feel it. Normally even one round was enough to knock him out for the night, relax his muscles and let him sink into the comforts of the king sized bed. 

Instead, Neil was a fidgety mess, turning this way and that as he tried to get comfortable, only holding still for a few seconds at a time before moving again. 

“What” Andrew finally asked, tired and ready to go to sleep after the energy he had exerted in their late night escapades. 

“Huh?” Neil asked from his cocoon of blankets, his newest attempt at getting comfortable. 

"Something's going on. You’ve been squirming for the past half hour, so I repeat: what.”

Neil sat up, looking a little guilty, a little nervous. 

“I actually did have something I wanted to talk about.” He said, sounding uncharacteristically shy. Andrew’s stomach dropped, but he nodded anyway. Talks were never good when you were…whatever they were. 

“Well, I know you're busy with the tour and everything, but I checked and there’s no show the night of the 16th. I was wondering if you would go with me to the exy banquet?" 

Andrew’s stomach turned to lead, and he subtly shifted over a bit, making more room between them. It wasn’t subtle enough, and he watched as Neil’s eyes flicked down towards the new space between their legs. 

“I can’t. I have a show on the 17th and we are flying in the night before to do some last minute set up.” 

It wasn’t necessarily a lie. It was true that they were flying in on the 16th, and it was true the night would be mostly spent running through some final preparations as it would be one of the bigger venues they performed at. The only thing was, Neil and him both knew he could easily fly in for the night and fly back out in the morning. The rest of the band would be more than happy to set up on their own if it was something Andrew was serious about. 

But that was the problem. Neil, the hotels, the shows, the sex – none of it was supposed to ever be serious. Even if Andrew had lost sight of that himself for a moment there, it was time to remind them both about what was really happening between them. 

It was just an unfortunate reality that now he had to deal with Neil looking at him like that. Not sad, not hurt, just a shuttered up expression, no emotion leaking in or out of it. A blank space that had been practiced to the point of perfection over the years spent in an abusive household. Andrew would know – Neil had told him all about his past over the eight months they had been hooking up. 

It meant nothing.

“My bad. I know not many people know about this, I should have thought that through before-” 

“There is no this”

The expression smoothed out even further, and Andrew felt a knife twist in his gut. It was Neil’s turn to scoot over more, and Andrew watched as the chasm between them grew another couple of inches. A little more and Neil would be out of reach.

“Of course.” Neil laid back down and pulled out his phone, the phone he sent Andrew selfies on, the phone he answered Andrew’s incoming facetimes on when the calls just weren’t enough. The room was silent for a few minutes, and Andrew was trying to figure out where to go from there when Neil sat up suddenly. 

“Oh shit, I didn’t realize the time. I forgot I have something planned tonight.” Neil was a shit liar, but Andrew let him do it anyway. 

“Do you want me to drive you back?” Andrew offered, an attempt to gain back some of the ground they lost. Neil shook his head, tugging his shirt over his head, pants already snug around his waist. If he moved any faster, he’d be running. 

“No, it's fine, Jean's almost here to pick me up.” Andrew didn’t point out the holes in his story, just kept letting him slip further and further out of his grasp. 

“I can walk you down to the -”

“It’s okay,” Neil said, cutting him off, “He’s here already, just got the text. See you later, okay.” 

Neil turned to the door, but that was where Andrew drew the line. He’d let him walk out, but not like that. 

He jumped out of bed and caught Neil’s wrist, pulling him back towards him with a gentle tug. He leaned in and waited a second, and when Neil didn’t pull back, he pressed their lips together in a long, thorough kiss. Neil was stiff at first, but slowly melted under Andrew’s ministrations. After a solid minute or two, Andrew pulled away, catching Neil’s eyes with his own. 

“I will see you again.” He hoped it conveyed everything he couldn’t say. 

The tension melted slightly from Neil’s frame, but the smile he flashed Andrew was still too tight, too fake. 

“Of course. Bye Andrew.” And then Neil was slipping out of the door and out of sight. 

Andrew turned towards the room, staring at the remnants of their night together. The tangled sheets on the mattress, Neil’s forgotten hoodie peeking out from under the bed. 

Andrew wasn't supposed to leave until the next morning, but he packed up his stuff and began looking for other flights that left that night. There was no point spending a night alone in an empty hotel room, not when he was supposed to be sharing Neil’s warmth. 

He slung his duffel over his shoulder, snagged Neil’s hoodie from under the bed, and checked out of his room. 

~

“Andrew, you need to wear something other than that stupid hoodie. Where did you get it anyway?” 

“No.”

“At least wash it. It's starting to smell.”

“No.”

This was nothing, he reminded himself.

~ 

Things changed. Neil still called and texted, but suddenly he had a lot less time to fly out to shows or entertain weekends spent with Andrew. 

It was fine, Andrew was busy too. Songs were pouring out of him at an alarming rate, and he found that when he wasn’t performing with the others or watching Neil’s games with Kevin, he was hunkered in his room, filing page after page with lyrics. 

The rest of the group was surprised when they got to read them. Nicky called them love songs with a soft smile on his face, and Andrew wanted to tell him he was wrong. They weren’t love songs. Whatever they were was dark and twisted, too fucked up to be anything close to love. 

So he kept writing, and he checked his phone too many times to be proud of, and he waited and waited and waited. The problem was, he didn’t know what he was waiting for. 

The night of the 16th rolled around, and Andrew sent off a quick text to Neil to send pics of his outfit before tossing his phone away and helping the others. 

He didn’t have regrets about turning down Neil’s offer. 

But

But, he had learned through Jean’s instagram that the two would be each other’s dates to the banquet. And aside from telling him where the event was being hosted this year, Neil didn’t talk about it at all. And Neil had been very hesitant to discuss Andrew’s upcoming show. Overall, Andrew was left feeling very off kilter about the entire situation. 

The two had met up once since the fateful night where Andrew told him they were nothing, and while they still hooked up, that was all they did. There were no late night stories of the annoying freshman Neil was dealing with, no questions about the tour or what song Andrew was working on. They just met up, had sex, and then Andrew watched from the bed as Neil got dressed and disappeared again. 

It should have been everything he wanted. Neil kept his hands to himself, they both got off, and then Neil left without prompting. It was Andrew’s dream.

He hated it. 

He missed Neil’s hand running over Andrew's shoulders and chest, an appreciative look in his eyes as he explored the muscles Andrew had been steadily building for years at the gym. He missed holding Neil after, tired and sated, his own personal hot water bottle glued to his side. He missed waking up to soft curls tickling the underside of his jaw, watching a sleep rumpled Neil slowly pull himself from sleep. 

And now he was tuning a guitar that he had already tuned twice, waiting for a text back, trying to decide why he thought a night spent setting up sound equipment was better than a night with Neil on his arm, eating free desserts and listening to the striker’s snarky commentary on the other players at the event. 

Whatever. What was done was done. All he could do was wait. 

By the time a text came through two hours later, Andrew was getting ready to hop on a flight and go see the redhead. He pounced on his phone, unlocking it to see a photo of Neil from the neck down, clad in fitted black trousers and a tight black button up, the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscular forearms. Andrew swallowed as he took in the veins in his hands. The photo was quickly saved to his camera roll.

He knew it was pathetic to respond right away, but he didn’t care at that point. 

[Andrew]: Send one with your face 

[Neil]: …

[Neil]: About that

[Neil]: Have you been on twitter yet?

Andrew had not been on any socials that evening, but quickly pulled up his twitter. After months of stalking the Foxes’ star striker, his feed had quickly been filled with all exy-related news. Thus, when he opened the app, he was met with hundreds of posts showing various angles of Riko punching Neil square in the face. Neil pulled back immediately after to hit back just as hard, but was grabbed by Jean before he could swing and pulled away. One of the comments mentioned a post by said frenchman, and Andrew quickly switched over to Instagram to pull up his account. 

The most recent post was a close up of Neil’s face. Neil looked gorgeous in it, intense blue eyes staring into the camera, his face a perfect model of the golden ratio. His lips were pulled into a viscous smile, blood running down his chin from his busted lip that had already begun to swell lightly when the photo was taken. Despite the rage flooding through his veins, Andrew still saved the photo. It wasn't his fault that the man was unfairly beautiful. 

The caption underneath simply read: Apparently people can’t use the word uncouth anymore.

Andrew switched back to text.

[Andrew]: What happened

[Neil]: Jean's caption explains it pretty well. I called Riko uncouth and apparently THAT was where he drew the line.

[Neil]: Which was very weird because he didn’t seem very bothered when I called him a piece of shit scumbag that had enough daddy issues to keep a therapist busy for several years.

[Neil]: But we all have our quirks I guess 

Andrew hit the call button, and waited as the phone rang once, twice, three times. He worried Neil wasn’t going to pick up, but then the call connected.

“Quit picking fights when I’m not there to stop people from breaking your face.” He said without preamble, realizing a second too late that he just gave Neil the perfect opportunity to point out that Andrew could have easily been there to prevent this. Neil must have noticed it too, if the slight pause was anything to go by, but he simply hummed instead of calling Andrew out. 

“Unfortunately, I’ve already promised certain people I would pick fights with Riko. I can’t go back on my word now.” 

Andrew sighed, picking at the hem of his jeans as he held the phone up to his ear.

“How was the banquet besides the punch?” He despised small talk, but it felt like so long since the two actually talked, so he gritted his teeth and took what he could get. 

“It was fine. Jean spent most of the night making heart eyes at Knox, and they announced the spring rankings. Palmetto came in first again, which is nice, but it also puts some pressure on us to hold the spot. How's the tour? You’re in Washington, right?”

“Yeah. It’s alright. I’m ready for this show to be over because then we’ll have a bit of a break, Only a few days, but needed.”

“That sounds nice” Neil replied, not picking up on what Andrew was hinting at. Or noticing but choosing not to comment. 

Andrew decided to just tear the bandaid off, “I could come visit.” 

“Oh, that would be nice. Maybe come out Tuesday? I could meet you at the hotel after practice.” 

Andrew wanted that. But he also didn’t. He could hear the unspoken words there, the reluctance to commit to a full night, hinting towards another quick hook up before Neil ran off again. 

“Yeah. And maybe I could stay till Thursday? Get a few nights with you.” Andrew could be stubborn too. He would accept it if Neil said no, but Neil would have to be a big boy and say it with his chest, not skirt around the issue. 

There was a pause on the other end, before Neil said unsurely, “Sure. I could take you to a nice cafe nearby in the morning.”

“That sounds good.” 

Another awkward pause

“Okay. Yeah. Let's plan on that. I kind of have to go now, we’re getting on the bus, but I’ll text you okay?”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight Andrew”

“Goodnight Neil”

Things still weren’t quite right, but Andrew felt the gap between them close a little bit. He pulled up google and started looking for flights out.

~

Things started getting better. The banquet had been a sore spot for Neil, but once it was past and no longer a reminder of Andrew’s blatant rejection, he loosened up again, bantering with Andrew over text and agreeing to the next show that fell on a free day. 

Andrew coming out helped as well. Neil wasn’t as hands on as he was before the ‘fight’, but he at least reached out and touched a little, and at the end of the night, he threw on a pair of joggers and fell asleep in Andrew’s arms. 

Come morning they headed out to the cafe Neil had mentioned, but the idea of a large crowd seemed daunting, the promise of paparazzi enough to change their plans. Neil ran in and grabbed some takeout while Andrew sat in the rental, then the two found a secluded park to eat their breakfast in. By the end of the second day, Andrew was dreading leaving again, not ready to say goodbye to the boy. 

When he touched back down in L.A., mind clearer than it had been in weeks, he went straight to the studio, writing a few lines out and playing with different melodies. The idea had started coming to him in the midst of Neil and his coldspell, and he couldn’t let it go. He stared down at the lyrics in front of him, trying to parse through his thoughts.

Grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire

I will travel far beyond the path of reason

Take me back to Eden

He sat down with his guitar, plucking at the strings and he sang through a verse. The song was coming together. He just needed a little more time. 

~

“What are you watching?”

Andrew locked his phone in record time, staring up at Nicky with a blank face. 

“Woah, I’m just asking.” He held his hands up in surrender, “You’ve been listening to the same ten seconds of King for A Day for the past five minutes. Is it a tiktok?”

Andrew said nothing.

“Why won’t you just tell me?”

Andrew blinked slowly. 

“Really? Nothing?”

Nicky finally threw his hand up in frustration.

“Fine. Have at it I guess. I’m going to find Kevin.”

Once he was out of sight, Andrew opened his phone again, the sounds of Pierce the Veil filling the room once more. On screen a compilation of photos and videos of Neil flashed across the scene, slowed down and synced up to the music. 

Andrew saved the video to his ‘Neil’ folder. 

He paused for a moment before going to the search bar, glancing up to make sure no one was around. Once he confirmed the coast was clear, he typed out: Neil Josten edit to Monsters Song.

The first video that popped up started with Neil tapping the butt of his racquet against the court floor twice, taken at some point before the start of a game. He looked younger, the footage probably recorded during his freshman or sophomore year. The image faded out into another video, this one showing the striker clacking sticks with an orange clad Jean, helmets obscuring their faces as they jogged past each other on the court. The edit morphed again to him shooting on goal, torso twisting as he swung his racquet. Another flash and he was pulling off his helmet, curls spilling onto his face as he flashed the camera a smile. Meanwhile, Andrew’s voice spilled over the video, a backdrop for Neil’s perfection. It was an old song, Granite, from their first album. 

When you sit there acting like you know me

Acting like you only brought me here to get below me

Never mind the death threats, parting at the door

We’d rather be six feet under than be lonely

Andrew saved the video to his folder. 

He swiped. Then swiped again. Then swiped again. 

He settled further into the couch, getting comfortable. It was going to be a long night. 

~

Things were going unbelievably well. They were back to texting and calling everyday, Andrew visiting when he could and Neil flying out for multiple shows. 

He wasn’t able to make as many as before, the weeks dragging on and bringing the finals for the exy season closer and closer, leading to a more intense training schedule, but Andrew didn’t mind. They made up for it in different ways. 

One night, right before a show, a series of videos came through rapid fire on Andrew’s phone, followed by a quick text simply stating: the phone said it was too long to send in one piece. 

Curiosity peaked, Andrew clicked on the first video, knowing he only had about ten minutes till he would have to make his way towards the stage. 

The video started, revealing an up close view of Neil’s face, eyes focused as he set the camera up, what was obviously a gym in the background. Once he was satisfied that it wasn’t going to fall over, he took a few steps back, placing his upper body perfectly in frame. 

“What do you think? Does the angle work?” He asked someone off screen.

“I do not wish to be involved in this weird display of foreplay” the Frenchman stated haughtily, then a moment later added, “but no. You need to lower it more.” 

Neil nodded and moved forward again, lowering the camera and stepping back once more, moving far enough that he was visible from the neck down. 

“Okay I think I’m ready. Hand me a 30 to start.” 

A perfectly manicured hand appeared in view for a second, passing off the requested weight, and Andrew still wasn’t quite sure what was happening. 

Neil looked off screen and a moment later some sort of upbeat song began playing, a loud voice explaining some sort of lifting technique. 

Then Neil started squatting. 

With each rep he dropped low, thighs straining as he lifted back up, ass out and chest up. Andrew stared transfixed as Neil went up and down and up and down and up and down. Then the lunges started, and once again Andrew was treated to a front row view of Neil’s perfect ass flexing and squeezing as it carried him through the motions. 

His pants started getting tight, and he silently thanked the universe that he got the iPhone with 256 GBs as he saved the video to his camera roll. The video was three minutes of the most erotic footage had ever seen, and as he scrolled down he saw that nine others had come through as well. 

30 minutes.

30 minutes of Neil as he worked out his butt and thighs. 

One of the video thumbnails showed him mid pelvic thrust, ass lifted off the ground with what looked like a 50 pound weight resting on his hips. 

Andrew went to click on the next video when a voice startled him out of his daze. 

“Two minute warning, two minute warning. Take your place boys.”

Andrew cursed, staring longingly at the string of videos. Neil knew what time the show started, knew what he was doing. 

Andrew typed out a quick ‘fuck you’ before stomping towards the stage — the action made difficult by the hard on that he had to tuck into the waistband of his underwear. It would be a difficult show to get through, knowing what was waiting for him on the other side. He cursed the redheaded menace that he had let into his life and took his spot on stage. 

~ 

The show was the longest show Andrew had ever performed, and as soon as the curtain closed on the screaming crowd, he rushed off the stage to his private dressing room, grabbing his phone and locking the door. 

A text from Neil had come in a little over an hour ago, sent half an hour after Andrew’s parting words

[Neil]: sorry, I didn’t realize it was socially unacceptable to send unsolicited butt workouts ;) 

[Andrew]: NEVER apologize for sending videos of your ass

[Andrew]: do apologize for sending it ten minutes before I had to go on stage in front of thousands of people 

Andrew clicked on the next video, watching as Neil spread his legs wide and dropped into a sumo squat, getting only ten seconds in before an obnoxious knocking started on his door. He sighed and opened it, finding Kevin who asked if he was ready to leave. Knowing he would find no privacy there, he packed up quickly and rode to the hotel with the others, not bothering to say goodnight before he slipped into his hotel room, relieved to be alone. 

He hopped on the bed and pulled his dick out, phone in his other hand, watching Neil deadlift with some 50s in each hand. By the end of the thirty minutes Neil was sweaty and red, his ass perked up indecently with the post workout pump. 

Andrew himself was achingly hard, harder than he had ever been, and he thrust up into his hand, imagining he had Neil on all fours in front of him. He closed his eyes and pretended he was thrusting in between his thick thighs, the muscles squeezing around him. He thought he may have blacked out when he came, the force of his orgasm was so strong. 

Yeah, things were good.

~

He should have known things were going to go so very very bad. His luck never lasted for long.

The band was in Chicago for a show. They flew in a day early, choosing to head to a bar for the night given their free time. 

In a one and a million chance, some girls took a selfie right as a stranger crashed into Andrew in the background of the photo. Andrew shoved him off immediately, the interaction lasting less than 2 seconds, and Andrew didn’t think of it once after it happened. 

Until the next morning, when the picture was printed on the front page of every tabloid, the selfie snapped at the exact right moment, making it look as though the two were caught in a rather intimate embrace. 

The news ran wild with the story. Andrew had been openly gay since the band started, but everyone knew he didn’t do relationships, and it seemed that over the course of the night every celebrity magazine and tabloid was trying to figure out who the mystery man was and how he had caught Andrew’s attention. 

Andrew still didn’t think much of it, content to let his agent handle the press, though his skin felt a little itchy under the immense scrutiny of the press. As it happened every time the monsters made the news, Andrew’s past was brought into the story, and it only took one article mentioning Drake for his headspace to be clouded. 

Then the call came in.

“Before I say anything, I just want you to know that I know you guys didn’t do anything. I just wanted to hear from you what happened before I wasted my time on tabloid bullshit.” Neil explained, voice calm. 

And wasn’t that the problem. Nothing had happened but Andrew didn’t owe Neil any answers. He wasn’t entitled to that in any way, but once again Andrew had let the lines blur. He thought of Drake and others who took what they didn’t deserve. He thought of himself, and asked what he deserved.

He wasn’t sure if he deserved Neil.

He knew for a fact Neil didn’t deserve the answers.

He poised the knife above his skin.

“And if we did do something?” 

Andrew felt the tone of the phone call shift.

“What?”

“I said if we did do something, then what?” Andrew let the rage at his past, at the press, at Drake flow through him, latching onto the only target in range. 

Cut

“Then I would ask why you let this continue without telling me you were seeing other people.”

“There is no this. How many times do I have to tell you.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I deserve to know if you are sleeping with other people, and you know that too.” 

There was that word again. Deserve. 

“I made no promises to you. If you assumed we were exclusive then that’s on you. I don’t owe you anything.” 

Andrew wasn’t sure why he was saying what he was saying. The words just poured out of him, ripping up his throat on the way out.

“Stop. We both know this-“ 

Enough was enough

“There. Is. No. This. This is nothing. You are nothing.” 

Cut

The line went quiet and Andrew wondered if Neil had hung up. 

“Right. I have to go.”

“Neil-”

A quick beep sounded signifying the call had disconnected. Andrew stared down at the phone, a numbness spreading through his limbs. 

He felt the pain trickle out from his veins, a wound cut too deep, and wondered if he was the only one who bled that night. 

~

There were no texts, no calls. The last time Andrew had uttered those words, Neil had distanced himself, but he hadn’t cut himself out of Andrew’s life completely. Apparently, this time was different. Neil became a ghost haunting Andrew, an emptiness that lingered around Andrew in every aspect of his day to day life. 

Andrew debated picking up the phone and calling Neil himself, but if he wanted space Andrew would respect that. 

So he powered down his phone to avoid temptation, locked himself in the studio, and let the music flow out of him. Making music had always been his own sort of therapy, a sense of control that he never had when he was in foster care. It was intimate, far more intimate than he ever thought he could be. Thousands of people listening to his music, reading the lyrics that spelled out his pain and insecurities. It should have hurt, should have killed him to be that vulnerable. 

But instead it was freeing. 

He found himself wondering why it was different with people, late at night after he had already flayed himself open and stitched himself up again. Why he could be exposed so thoroughly on stage, but in the dim lighting of a hotel room, he shut down. 

So he played, and he thought, and he stared at his phone until he could start the cycle over again the next day. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

The others worried about him, even if they couldn’t deny that the songs he was creating were amazing. 

There was no question in their minds, the next album would be a hit, would be more popular than any of the others they released. It had potential to go platinum. They had never made anything like it before. 

Andrew didn’t care. 

He didn’t bother learning the projected stats for the record, or the timeline for release. He filled his head with more important numbers. The Foxes' most recent score. How many days till the next game. How many days it had been since he heard Neil speak, not counting the interviews he watched religiously every week. How many minutes it had been since he had last felt Neil underneath him, last took him apart and then held him after. 

He stalked Jean’s socials daily, taking in every scrap of Neil that he could, but he still didn’t call. The final show came and went. He played in front of 20 thousand people, a completely sold out show at Madison Garden, ending their tour back in the state they started it in. The others were ecstatic. It was everything they had ever wanted. Andrew was miserable, thinking of a different show, months ago, where a redhead waited for him in the wings. 

He didn’t know if he could fix it.

~

“Kevin. Give me the remote.”

“No.”

“Kevin” Andrew shot the man a withering glare, but Kevin just turned away, focusing back on the bigfoot documentary playing on screen. He seemed relaxed, but the anxious bounce of his knee gave him away. Andrew glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. The championship game between the Foxes and the Ravens had started five minutes ago. Kevin refused to change the channel, even though it was obvious missing the game was bothering him too. 

“This is ridiculous. Just turn on the game.”

“I don’t think it's healthy for you.”

“You’re treading on thin ice.”

Kevin turned back to him, a glare of his own on his face. 

“No. Enough is enough. We have all been tiptoing around you while you figured this out, but it stops now. Andrew, you've been miserable. We just played the biggest venue in America, and you didn’t even care. All you do is write all day long, then crawl into bed and stalk Neil. It’s time to stop. You decided you didn’t want to be with him, which, yeah, I don’t agree with that choice, but I still support you. But, you’ve made your choice and now you have to live with it. Which means no more obsessing, no more stalking, no more watching his games.”

“You watch his games even though you aren’t dating him, so why can’t I?”

Kevin huffed in frustration, “Because you hate exy, Andrew! I watch it because I like the sport, you only watch it because you get to see him run around.”

The game had now been going for 10 minutes, and Andrew felt an odd sort of desperation hit him. This was all he had of Neil, these games, and it was the last one of the season, the last one he would have for the next couple of months, and he was missing it. 

Despite his best efforts to control his expression, some of his anxiety must have bled through, because Kevin’s eyes softened, and after a moment, he let out a quiet sigh. 

“Fine, we’ll watch this last game. But once it's over we are talking about this. You can’t keep doing this. You either need to fix things with him or move on.” With that, Kevin dug the remote out from where he had been sitting on it, and switched the channel over to the game. 

It was obvious that the game was off to a rocky start. Every time the players from the different teams interacted with each other, fists flew. Within the first quarter, Andrew watched as two Foxes and five Ravens were kicked out of the game with red cards. Both Andrew and Kevin sat at the edge of the couch, watching as Neil crashed into the wall over and over again from body checks that bordered on illegal. Racquets clashed every time he and Riko met on the court as well. 

Despite the roughness of the game, the Foxes held the lead going into halftime and came out even stronger in the second half, Neil scoring a record breaking four points in the third quarter alone. The frustration on the Ravens end only grew and grew as the point gap widened even more. 

The game was down to the final two minutes, and Andrew finally sat back. They had a big enough lead that there was no coming back for the Ravens now. The Foxes had won, and Andrew desperately wished he could reach out to congratulate their star player. Instead he watched as Neil slowed down, letting the action play out in front of him, watching as some of the younger players got subbed in to play the final two minutes. 

He wasn’t even near the ball when Riko slammed him into the wall, his helmeted head bouncing harshly off the wall before he crumbled to the floor. Riko raised his racquet high above his head before smashing it down onto Neil’s unprotected torso, getting one sickening hit in before Jean rammed into him, knocking him off his feet and away from the prone body of Neil. Andrew was sure that a large brawl had broken out between the teams, but he didn’t notice. His entire attention was focused on Neil, who was still laying limp on the floor. Andrew just needed him to get up. 

Neil’s dad rushed onto the court, a blur of flame tattoos and muscle, skidding across the floor until he was next to his son, the team nurse not far behind. Andrew watched, numb, as the court was cleared out of players and paramedics took up post by Neil. He finally moved, rolling over to throw up through the grate of his helmet before someone took it off of him, and then he was being lifted onto a stretcher, whisked away from the cameras. 

Away from Andrew. 

Kevin sat on the couch shell shocked at the turn of events. It was obvious that even with the violent nature of the sport, he had never seen anything like that before. Seconds turned to minutes turned to an hour as they sat, watching various reporters cover the story. Nicky and Aaron joined them at one point, Andrew barely registering the movement, and watched in silence as the entire sports world speculated on the condition of Neil Wymack. 

They weren’t the only ones talking about it. Twitter was a madhouse, even those who weren’t interested in the sport taking a moment to say their piece on such an insane event. Moments later, the reports began showcasing some of the tweets as they began to discuss the attention the game was garnering. One of the tweets projected on the screen was from Jeremy Knox, golden boy and captain of the Trojans. 

@knoxinsocks: Truly sickened by the horrifying events that played out tonight. Wishing for a speedy recovery for my close friend and urging the board to seriously review Riko Moriyama and the entirety of the Ravens’ case. The Trojans send all their love and support to Neil and the Foxes. #Nodirtyplays #Leavethehateoffthecourt

The tweet went away, replaced by the reporter they had been watching cover the story for the past 10 minutes. 

“No statement has been released yet by the Foxes’ coach, David Wymack, or Palmetto State University. As we wait, we are left to wonder-”

Andrew had heard enough. He stood up abruptly, and moved to his room, ignoring the startled yelps of Nicky and the others. 

He grabbed his duffel and packed his essentials, wasting no time deliberating over what clothing to bring. He marched across the living room, the others following him as he moved to leave the penthouse. 

“Andrew, wait a minute. Where are you going? Just hold on-”

But Andrew did not ‘just hold on’. He had a plane to catch.

~

“Andrew Minyard.” 

David Wymack was a rather large man, taller with bulging biceps. He was undoubtedly intimidating to many people, but unfortunately for him, Andrew was not on that list. He knew he probably should feel some sort of anxiety about him, given that he was Neil’s adoptive father, but for the most part all he felt was irritation that he was standing in his way. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you. Not from Neil, but Jean likes to talk, especially when he’s worried about my son.” His eyes narrowed as he stared down at Andrew. 

“I just can’t help but wonder what the fuck you think you are doing here.” 

And there it was. Andrew expected pushback from his bandmates, from the hospital, from Neil himself. But for some reason he hadn’t factored in his dad. Whatever. Neil was somewhere in this hospital, and nothing was going to stop him. Not even a frustrated father figure. 

“I’m here to see Neil. I thought that was rather obvious.” Andrew drawled, glancing past Wymack and towards the double doors behind him. 

“Bullshit. Jean told me the two of you haven’t talked in over a month.”

Andrew shrugged one shoulder, “It’s true we haven’t been in contact recently, but that was a problem I was hoping to remedy as soon as you,” his gaze flickered back to the irritated man, “show me to his room.”

“Not happening,” David shook his head, “I know my boy, and as much as you think you do, you don’t. He had a rough childhood and he holds onto people tight, too tight sometimes. So if he let you go, that means you fucked up big time. And if you fucked up big time, that means you lose visiting privileges. 

And that was the problem. Andrew knew he fucked up, but he couldn’t do anything to fix it unless he could actually speak to Neil. He opened his mouth to argue when the team’s nurse stepped forward, placing a light hand on David’s shoulder. 

“Let him in, David.”

“No Abby, you don’t-”

Abby leaned forward, whispering something in his ear. Andrew watched as David’s shoulders sagged in defeat, and then he finally nodded, sending a rather nasty glare Andrew’s way, before stepping to the side. 

“You do anything to upset him, and your ass is flying back to wherever the fuck you came from with zero complaint. Understood?” 

Andrew wanted to argue that he wasn’t one of Wymack’s little minions and he didn’t have to take orders from him, but he didn’t want to delay seeing Neil any longer. Abby gave him a serene smile and began leading him through the twisting hallways of the hospital, not bothering to fill the silence. 

After a couple of moments they were outside a plain door, no marker to differentiate it from the rest beside a simple plaque that read 517. She paused with her hand on the handle. 

“Make sure to keep your voice lowered while you're in there, he has a pretty severe concussion.”

Andrew nodded, ignoring the slight pang in his stomach.

“Oh, and Andrew? David may have already threatened to send you home, but I promise he’s not who you will have to worry about if you upset Neil.” She smiled brightly, "Remember, voice down.”

Then she walked away, leaving Andrew standing in front of the nondescript door, every fiber of his being aware that Neil was just on the other side. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and opened the door. 

~

The lighting in the room was dim, but still bright enough for him to see Neil laying prone on the bed. His chest was rising slightly with each breath, and his fingers twitched minutely in his sleep. Andrew was glad for these little signs of life, because without them, Neil would be doing a pretty good impression of a dead person. 

His skin was pale, the flesh around his eyes starting to deepen, double black eyes if Andrew had to guess. Bandages were wrapped around the top of his head, and Andrew wanted nothing more than to unwrap them – feel his way around the redhead's skull until he had every scratch and bump memorized. 

Instead he pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down, syncing his breathing with Neil’s. 

He kept up his makeshift meditation until a nurse came in twenty minutes later, clipboard in hand. She did a double take when she saw Andrew, recognizing him instantly, and spent the rest of her checkup sending glances his way. A fan then. Chances were the press would be all over this story by the morning. He thought back to that morning a few months ago, when he had Neil grab take out by himself to avoid the press catching wind of their situation.

Andrew didn’t care anymore.

He sat and watched as she wrote note after note on a blank piece of paper, checking Neil’s vitals and listening to his breathing. Once she was satisfied, she left the room, trailing back in only a few moments later behind a doctor. 

The doctor was older and obviously had no clue who Andrew was. The only thing he knew was that Andrew was a visitor to one of his patients. 

“Alright, I’m going to wake him up now to ask him a few questions,” he explained when Andrew tensed up, watching as the doctor reached forward to gently tap Neil’s shoulders. 

Neil’s eyes fluttered open slowly, and he let out a slight groan, shutting them tight again. The nurse dimmed the lights even further and he relaxed slightly in the darker room. Andrew held his breath as he watched, ready for Neil to open his eyes and notice him, ready for the doctors to leave so they could talk. 

“Hello Mr. Wymack, I’m Dr. Mccoy, I just have a few questions for you and then I can let you go back to sleep. Sound good?” 

Neil grunted an affirmative, but kept his eyes closed against the light still.

“Wonderful, please state your full name and the date.”

“Neil Wymack.” He paused for a moment, eyebrows drawing together, “April 26th?”

It was officially the 27th, but Andrew figured it was close enough. 

The doctor scribbled something while nodding, “Very good. And can you tell me the last thing you remember?” 

“I was getting on a bus to go to a game. I was talking to my teammate, but after that I don’t remember anything.”

More notes, another nod.

“Can you count to 10 for me?”

Neil completed the request without any difficulty.

“Alright, I think that’s enough for now, you can go back to resting. If you have any problems you can hit the call button or have your buddy here find a nurse.”

The doctor and nurse left the room, but Andrew didn’t notice. As soon as the doctor had mentioned someone else being in the room, Neil’s eyes had shot wide open and trained on Andrew, an odd mix of confusion, anger, and maybe a little relief swirling in them. 

“What are you doing here?” Neil asked after a couple of moments had passed in tense silence. 

“You got hurt. I wanted to check on you.”

“Bullshit,” Neil spat, wincing as he sat up in the bed. Andrew wanted to reach out to him, but didn’t think his touch would be well received at the moment. 

“It’s true. You can call Kevin if you’d like. We were watching the game together, and then you got hurt. And now I’m here.”

Neil raised an incredulous eyebrow at him, “And why were you watching the game.”

Andrew shrugged, his gut twisting and turning. This was the moment he reminded himself. Basically the same as releasing a new song or walking onto the stage. He wanted to open his mouth to explain everything, explain that he didn’t do relationships, but he might want to try with Neil. To explain that he had a tendency to ruin everything good that came into his life, but that he didn’t want to ruin them.

Instead, he said nothing. It felt as though his jaw was wired shut, the words building in the back of his throat with nowhere to go. 

Neil scoffed after a moment, “Right. Because why would you answer that? Well as you can see, I’m fine, so if that’s all…” he gestured towards the door.

Andrew could feel the clock ticking, knew that if he walked out of the door now, that would be it. There would be no fixing it. Neil would be gone. 

He just needed to say the words.

“Andrew. Just go.” Neil said, voice tired, shoulders hunching in on himself. Andrew was hurting him. Andrew was hurting him with his silence and he just needed to get the words out, he just needed to push them out. 

Another minute passed. His pulse was thrumming so fast, he wondered if it was a good thing that he was in a hospital already. That way when his heart inevitably gave out, there would be help on hand. 

“I’m tired.” Neil said, anger seeping into his voice, accumulating the longer Andrew stayed quiet, “I have let so many things go when it comes to you, but I can’t keep doing it. I especially don’t want to see you here, right now, so if you have nothing to say then-”

“Eden’s” Andrew blurted, interrupting Neil. Then he frowned. It wasn’t what he wanted to say at all. Neil looked confused, torn between listening to what Andrew had to say or kicking him out. Andrew decided to keep talking before he had a chance to choose the latter. 

“When I saw you at Eden's," Andrew continued, “it felt different. I had seen hot guys at shows before, and I had hooked up with a lot of them.” 

“Off to a bad start,” Neil interjected, the wrinkle between his eyebrows getting deeper. 

Right. Bad start. Andrew was good at those.

“Going on tour is a lot,” Andrew tried again, but even that didn’t feel right, “And things are always happening on it,” he continued lamely. 

Neil shook his head in disappointment, “I don’t know what you’re saying, and I don’t know if you do either, so stop wasting my time and just-” 

“I fucked up,” Andrew said, ripping the bandaid off. This time it felt right.

“I fucked up,” he reiterated, “But not in the way you think.” 

Neil sat back against the pillow, staring at Andrew warily, but willing to listen. 

“When that photo got released of me and that guy, you should have been the first person I reached out to, but I didn’t. And then when you reached out to me, I should have explained that nothing happened, but instead I let you think that we hooked up. More than that, I implied that we did. But now I want to explain it to you, all of it.”

He took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. Neil watched on without interrupting, giving Andrew the space to speak. 

“We were at a bar in Chicago. The guy crashed into me drunk and I shoved him away. That was it. Some girls who were taking a picture together just happened to take it at the right moment, but I swear, nothing happened. I didn’t speak or even look at anyone else that night.”

Another deep breath.

“In fact, I haven't looked at anyone else in a long time. Not since we met. I know it sounded bad earlier, but it's true. I’ve hooked up with a lot of guys, but none of them have made me feel how you do. None of them have made me feel at all. They were a quick way to take care of some needs before heading to a different city. But you… you wormed your way under my skin and by the time I realized it, I couldn’t have gotten rid of you even if I wanted to. Which I didn’t by the way. I never wanted to get rid of you.”

He reached forward tentatively, placing his hand over Neil’s when the redhead made no move to pull away. 

“Going on tour is a lot, and a lot of things happen, but I can promise you that nothing like that happened. It’s only been you since that show in Columbia.”

The conversation was hard, but Andrew was surprised to find he had been right. It felt exactly the same as when he bared his soul in front of an audience, when he wrote his deepest thoughts on a page. Maybe even better because this was Neil, his Neil.

“You know a lot about my childhood, the most I’ve told anyone besides my therapist. I’ve done a lot of work, but I’ve never quite gotten the hang of letting people in in that way. It’s not an excuse, but I want you to know that it’s not because of you. And I want to get better, I want to work on it. It’s just, I needed to lose you, lose the only person I ever wanted that with, to actually accept that I wanted it. Which is shitty but the truth.” 

He looked at Neil trying to gauge his response, but the mask was up, and there was nothing for him to read.

“Okay and if I don’t want that anymore?” Neil asked, and Andrew suppressed his flinch. He knew coming into this that there was a possibility Neil would reject him, but he had still held out hope they could make it work. 

“Then I would respect that and leave you alone,” Andrew said quietly, trying to control the quake in his voice. Neil heard it anyway, and the mask slipped away. In its place, Neil looked tired. Andrew hated that he was contributing to it. 

“I don’t think I could do that again, being nothing.” 

Andrew quickly shook his head. That wasn’t what he had been trying to say. 

“When I said I want you back, I didn’t mean for it to stay the same. I know things need to change. More than just me not being an assshole and letting you think I cheated. I would want us to be an us, not nothing anymore. If you would want that too,” Andrew hurried to amend. 

Neil still looked suspicious, but he let his fingers curl around Andrew’s.

“There’s more than just that. There’s more that I would need.” 

Andrew nodded, scooting the chair a little closer, ready to listen to his words; but then Neil yawned, the movement cracking open his face, and Andrew was quickly reminded that they were in a hospital and the striker had been injured just a few hours before. 

“Sleep, Neil, and we can talk about it all tomorrow. I’ll still be here.”

Neil settled back against the pillows but still looked suspicious, so Andrew leaned forward, and after a quick nod, kissed him gently. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, then watched as Neil drifted to sleep, hand wrapped securely in Andrew’s own. 

~

“Just show me what’s in it.”

“No.” Andrew said, holding his phone further out of reach.

“Come on, it says my name! I deserve to know,” Neil insisted, though he didn’t move from where his head was laid on Andrew’s chest, leg thrown across his thighs. 

They were at Andrew’s penthouse, wrapped around each other as they laid on the couch. 

During Neil’s injury – that resulted in twelve weeks off the court to give his broken ribs and concussion time to heal – the two had taken some much needed downtime to truly talk, with Andrew and the others agreeing to postpone the European tour to give Andrew time to figure their stuff out. The news, as Andrew predicted, had hit the press the next morning, every tabloid talking about Andrew Minyard’s hospital visit to see an injured Neil Wymack.

Andrew wanted nothing more than to tell them all to fuck off and leave him and his boyfriend alone, but waited a moment considering they had a lot to talk about, and he hadn’t officially asked Neil out yet. 

So they talked, sitting in the comfort of the Wymack’s living room – Neil’s home when he wasn’t at the dorms – while the coach was at the court. Neil had some very valid concerns that Andrew did his best to lay to rest, reminding him as many times as he needed that he had truly just been being an asshole and that he hadn’t touched or even thought of another man since meeting Neil. Once Neil seemed placated, he moved onto the things that needed to change. 

He mentioned that while he understood Andrew’s hesitancy to deal with the press over any public relationships and his fear of commitment, it wasn’t fair for him to constantly be flying out to support Andrew at his shows, when Andrew couldn’t be bothered to come out and see his games. 

“I know your schedule is busy, but mine is too and I still make the time to see you. And I try not to be sensitive, but it does hurt when you constantly turn down my offers for seats and when you reject my invitations to the banquets. These things are important to me and it’s more than me just wanting your support. I also want to share those moments with you. And I’m tired of meeting you at hotels like some embarrassing secret. I want you to pick me up from court and say hi to my friends when you visit, not send me an address and a time like some sort of weird drug deal” Neil had explained. 

Andrew agreed whole heartedly and the two sat down together to see which games Andrew would be able to make it to, and ensured that no shows were scheduled on banquet days for the upcoming year. The two felt much better after that, and after a few days of talking things out, Andrew invited Neil out to dinner and asked him to become official, to which Neil said yes. 

Dinner was amazing, but the sex that came after was even better. 

After that, the two had become as inseparable as a long distance couple could be. They constantly flew out to see each other, and Neil was by Andrew’s side the night they released their next album, hand in hand as they made their way around the listening party Nicky insisted on having. 

The Monsters had been right. It went platinum. 

The album blew up across the country and throughout Europe, topping the charts and being streamed more than any of their others. In every interview they had about the album, Andrew made sure to credit Neil as his muse, and even made sure he was in the audience the first time they performed ‘Take Me Back to Eden’ on the Tonight Show. 

A lot of fans were happy to see Andrew happy, though a few sent hate mail to Neil’s dorm after realizing their chances with the singer were officially over. Neil said he didn’t mind, but Andrew definitely did mind and made a point to tweet out that he truly would never write another song ever again in his life if they kept harassing Neil. He meant it too. The letters stopped quickly after that. 

He got his own fair share of hate comments from quite a few of Neil’s fans, but he didn’t bother telling Neil or trying to stop them. He understood them, knowing he would have been just as mad if someone else had snatched the redhead before he had a chance. He began to see each spiteful comment as a badge of honor, a reminder that he got the boy. 

Now, he was enjoying his final days with his boyfriend before the band left for the European leg of the tour. They had pushed it off as long as they could, but it was time for them to finally do it. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. They were in a good spot, a wonderful spot, but it would be the longest they had gone without seeing each other since they met, and while Andrew knew they wouldn’t break up, he simply didn’t want to go that long without seeing the man. 

“Whatcha guys talking about?” Nicky asked, sauntering into the living room. 

He didn’t even bat an eye at their current position. The two were glued to each other whenever they were in the same room, and Andrew’s family had quickly gotten used to their touchiness. Things had still been awkward when Kevin had walked in on Andrew fingering Neil open, but the three had mutually agreed that they would never talk about it again, and Neil was gracious enough to not comment on the fact that Kevin still blushed whenever he had to look at the striker.

“Andrew has a tiktok folder that says my name but he won’t show me what it is.” 

Nicky snorted as he dropped onto the couch, “It’s just his edit folder. It’s full of a bunch of edits of you.”

“What?” Neil asked, sitting up to look down at Andrew, “There were like, 600 videos saved in there??” 

Nicky laughed again.

“That’s because ever since you guys went public, the amount of Neil Josten edits to our songs has skyrocketed. I’m pretty sure like 100 of those alone are to ‘Take Me Back to Eden’ or even ‘Alkaline’.” 

Neil sat up, elbowing Andrew in the ribs as he did so.

“Is he being serious?”

“No” Andrew answered at the same time that Nicky shouted “Absolutely!” 

Andrew shot Nicky a glare, but he simply shrugged and smiled at Neil.

“He thinks he’s being sneaky but he’s so blatantly obvious. All that I hear from his bedroom some nights is the same sound being played over and over and over again.” 

Neil smiled down at Andrew, “Aw, that's kind of cute.” 

Andrew shoved the redhead off of him, towards his own end of the couch.

“Fuck off.”

“No, no! I’m being serious! I don’t really get tiktok or edits, but I like it.”

Andrew sighed, “The songs are mine and you’re mine,” Neil’s eyes widened slightly at the easy admission, even after all this time, “I like seeing the two together.” 

Instead of poking fun, Neil simply nodded sagely, "I think I get it. Kind of like how you’re mine,” he paused, giving Andrew a chance to disagree but when no argument came, he continued, “and my jersey is mine. I like seeing you in my jersey.” 

“You’re saying that me liking edits of you to my songs is the same as you liking me wearing your jersey.”

Neil nodded enthusiastically and Andrew simply nodded once. He wasn’t necessarily wrong. He considered for a second the thought of Neil in a jersey with Minyard printed across the back, and tugged the redhead back onto him to hide his quickly hardening dick. Sometimes, he really wished he had stuck with exy.

Neil felt the hardness growing between his legs and squirmed slightly. That was enough of that. 

“We’re going to my room,” Andrew said, jumping up and tugging Neil behind him, “Start the movie without us.” 

Nicky wolf whistled at them, and despite his annoyance, Andrew was happy he had his family’s support. They passed Kevin on the way down the hall, and the taller man took one look at their faces and the way Andrew was pulling Neil before blushing a bright red and turning back to his room, the door clicking shut behind him. 

Neil laughed as Andrew kicked open his own door, shoving the redhead towards the bed. 

They’d be leaving soon, Neil back to Palmetto and Andrew off to Germany, but he had him for the night still and had every intention of breaking him apart before taking him out for smoothies in the morning. He climbed over the man, and Neil smiled up at him, dimples out in full bloom. 

Andrew swooped down to kiss him. 

He knew this was it. Knew with enough time he’d buy a ring and a house and make an honest man out of Neil. He knew there would be a hundred more songs detailing all the ways the man made him feel, and a thousand more nights wrapped up in bed.
The thought used to scare him, but now it only filled him with anticipation. 

With one hand in Neil’s hair and one trailing down his waist, Andrew slowly began to devour the man, sucking on his bottom lip and biting his way down his jaw. Neil moaned beneath him and Andrew jumped back to his lips, breathing in his air as if he needed it to survive. It was probably the truth at this point. 

Neil gasped. Andrew breathed him in. 

This is it, he thought to himself, then didn’t think again as he lost himself in Neil.