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“Don’t forget the strawberries!”
That’s the last thing Neil tells Kevin, thrown over his shoulder while he works on a Spanish assignment, followed closely by the petty slam of their door.
It’s mundane, insignificant in its impact. Because even if Kevin was indignant at Neil’s refusal to accompany him on his grocery run, Kevin would never forget the strawberries.
Fresh strawberries for Neil, fruit punch Capri Sun for Andrew and store-bought tamarind balls for Kevin are a staple purchase on each grocery run regardless of whose turn it is.
Neil wasn’t at the scene, but when they reach the hospital, a sad pile of dirty torn plastic bags, most of their contents fallen out, are given to Wymack by a concerned bystander that followed the ambulance in misplaced guilt. While waiting for news from the OR, Neil has nothing better to do than to scan Kevin’s purchases, accounting for all their favorites among the ruins.
At the one hour mark, the rest of the Foxes trickle into the waiting room, no doubt summoned by tragedy befalling one of their own. Allison and Renee get everyone coffee from a vending machine somewhere, Dan and Matt keep Wymack company while Abby flits around from nurse to nurse trying to get updates, Aaron and Nicky stand next to the uncomfortable chairs, chattering quietly amongst themselves.
At the three hour mark, Wymack starts pacing. Abby has no updates, despite her best efforts. Andrew’s eyes haven’t moved an inch away from where a nurse emerged last to tell them that Kevin was being operated on three hours ago.
At the five hour mark, the PSU Foxes are starting to lose their hard-earned cool, forced into admitting that this might not be just their classic case of bad luck turned injury. Neil’s body is forcibly still but he could feel the familiar buzzing under his skin telling him to just run. Andrew has just finished a Capri Sun out of the ruined shopping bags, Neil knows he’s itching for a cigarette but the need to know keeps him just as tethered as Neil to their chairs.
The rest of the Foxes are scattered around the wide metal chairs, looking more nervous the longer minutes tick by.
“What could possibly take so long?” Nicky finally raises the question they all want to ask.
They all look to their team nurse.
Abby chances a glance at Wymack then turns to address the rest of them, “Brain surgery is very precise, Nicky. They need time to be as careful as they have to because of how sensitive and critical brain injuries are.”
Neil swallows the lump in his throat, looking away. He accidentally makes eye contact with Wymack, whose devastation is clear on his face. The older man quickly wipes his face clear of any expression, continuing his pacing.
At exactly six hours and thirty three minutes since Kevin Day was wheeled into the OR at Palmetto General Hospital, a doctor approaches David Wymack with the verdict.
They controlled the bleeding inside the brain, they righted the dislocated shoulder– his left, Kevin is consistent even in his bad luck– and they put him in the ICU for monitoring. Because they couldn’t wake him up.
On a random Tuesday two hours before midnight following a botched grocery run he initially refused to go on alone, Kevin Day goes into a coma.
They toy with the idea of moving Kevin to a room the next day, confident in his recovery rate. Not counting, of course, the fact that his brain is fucked.
Andrew flicks the cigarette ash down at the pavement, his vision involuntarily blurred out as his gaze seems to burn into a spot on the other side of the street.
He was sent on time out.
If asked, Andrew would say that he was provoked into action by medical personnel who are incapable of doing their jobs. Wymack would scoff, of course, say that there’s no excuse to brandishing a knife on anyone whatsoever on hospital ground, but who cares about what Wymack has to say anyway?
It’s not like the man has said much since yesterday.
Andrew is used to a long-suffering David Wymack. In fact, he’s rather fond of him that way, what with that being his typical state of being ever since they came into each other’s lives.
Despite himself, he can understand the heartbreak written clear on their coach’s face. Kevin the exy prodigy has been with them for a while, but Kevin his son has only been available to him for less than year, and now he has to contend with the possibility of losing him.
Andrew inhales the smoke greedily before his thoughts betray him and go somewhere he doesn’t want them to.
The scuff of shoes against the pavement alerts him to a presence next to him. It’s not Neil, Andrew knows the exact rythm of his approach, so he’s about to tell whoever it is to fuck off.
They beat him to it.
“I’m going to ask you once, without empty threats, without jokes. Don’t do this again.”
The gravity in Wymack’s voice grates on Andrew’s nerves, but he keeps his mouth shut, knowing there’s more.
“I understand you’re angry, I understand you’re scared.” The older man softens his voice and inexplicably, that makes Andrew angrier.
“But right now, Kevin needs us around. He needs us walking him back from wherever the hell he is, and that means he needs you to not be indefinitely banned from the hospital, or worse, incarcerated. So work it out however you want, but do what you do best, Andrew. Bring my son back.”
The blond doesn’t turn to Wymack, his anger fizzling out as easy as it sprung up. He tells himself the break in his coach’s voice isn’t anything he needs to witness. He can give him that, at least.
Distantly, he registers how this is the first time Wymack refers to Kevin as his son.
The Foxes are all in the room. Even though it’s not obvious, Neil can see Andrew doing his best to not lash out and tell them to leave. He makes a note to acknowledge the effort when they’re alone.
Kevin is finally moved out of the ICU, meaning most of the visting restrictions are out of the way. So now the rest of the team is free to show up whenever they like.
The first to trickle in are Aaron and Nicky, murmuring quiet hello’s before finding a place in the room to stand. The couch by the door remains empty.
Wymack is standing on the other side of the door like a guard dog, arms crossed and expression closed off. Abby sits in the plastic chair at Kevin’s bedside, leaning gingerly over the rails as she studies his still frame. Andrew is by the window, his back to all of them, but Neil knows he’s looking through the reflection on the glass.
Aaron and Nicky stand behind Abby, eyes roaming over Kevin.
For the first time in his life, Neil is thankful for Aaron’s general aloofness. It’s grounding, his gaze clinical as he takes in the minor scratches littering Kevin’s face, eyes moving to the place where a sling wraps around his shoulder and stabilizes his arm to his chest.
Nicky is another story. Neil hates the glassiness in his eyes and the way his hand reaches out but stops just above the bedrails. The rule to not touch Kevin is unspoken, but the redhead is still thankful they all know Andrew so well.
A tear makes its way down Nicky’s cheek before he scrunches his face, subtly wipes it away and steels himself to look at Neil. He offers him a halfhearted smile and Neil’s anger washes away like waves on the shore.
Nicky is a good friend, friends can mourn each other, he reminds himself. Even though he knows there’s nothing to mourn, because Kevin will wake up.
“He’s not intubated.” It’s Aaron who makes the observation quietly, Neil guesses it’s aimed at Abby. She straightens up in her chair and a offers him a comforting smile.
“Yes, he’s breathing well on his own.” Her excitement is quiet but he can see her clinging to the hope that this means it’s temporary, that Kevin won’t take too long. “That’s a good sign.”
Neil lets her optimism wash over him.
Allison and Renee come next, taking position behind Neil on Kevin’s other bedside.
“Did they shave his hair?” Allison asks with horror. “He’s gonna be so mad.”
“They didn’t.” Neil pipes up, oddly defensive. Andrew doesn’t turn but Neil can see his indignance mirrored in the blond’s tense shoulders.
“They did, a bit.” Abby quips. He looks at her in betrayal. “Only a small area at the back of his head, he won’t notice it.”
“Uhh, do you not know Kevin Day? He’s going to throw a tantrum so big we’ll all have to get wigs to pacify him.”
Neil would be offended on Kevin’s behalf, if it wasn’t for the metaphorical dark cloud lifting gradually from the room the longer she’s talking.
“Kevin, don’t listen to her, love, your hair is fine.” Renee finally speaks, including Kevin so effortlessly in the conversation Neil almost crashes. Andrew turns around to watch more closely.
“I won’t be wearing a wig, Day, let’s get that out of the way.” Aaron grumbles, arms crossed.
Neil’s eyes travel to Kevin’s face, deceptively calm and devoid of emotion. He doesn’t so much as twitch in response, but that doesn’t deter the Foxes.
“What’s that about wigs?” Dan asks and they all turn to the doorway, where she’s standing with Matt holding a bouquet of offensively orange flowers.
“Kevin’s gonna wake up to find his head shaved off. Allison thinks he’ll throw a tantrum but personally, I think he’ll rock the shaved off spot. I have complete and utter faith in you, Kev!” Nicky explains, rising up to the playful spirit in the room.
“What the hell is that?” It’s Andrew who asks, nodding at the bouquet Dan is gingerly placing on the still empty couch.
“Gerbera daisies!” It’s Matt who answers excitedly, “aren’t they cool? Kevin, we got you orange ‘get well soon’ flowers.”
Andrew raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know what’s worse, Day, your shaved off head or the flower atrocity decorating your room.”
Neil’s heart bursts in equal parts warmth and pain, wishing Kevin can really hear them and he’s as comforted as Neil by the soft laughter filling the room.
The Foxes stay all the way until visiting hours are over, talking at Kevin in a way that isn’t too far from their normal routine.
Neil doesn’t say a word.
“-the two sons of exy, one dead and the other announced to be in a coma as of yesterday afternoon, we have Mr George Newman on the show today to tell us what this means for the sport. Mr Newman, is the collegiate exy scene about to radically change following Kevin Day’s tragic accident-”
The anchorwoman, whose name Aaron can’t bother to remember, is cut off suddenly, the TV screen going black.
He turns to find his twin already walking away, flitting from one place to the next as he throws anything and everything into a duffel bag.
“Are you going to the hospital?” He asks quietly, unsure which side of the spectrum Andrew’s mood is on but willing to brave through an interaction anyway.
He hates this.
Andrew doesn’t turn at the question, doesn’t really pause but Aaron hears a hum that indicates a confirmation.
Aaron takes a breath.
“Can I come with?”
He was planning to seize the chance of a quite dorm and get some studying done while everyone else trips over themselves trying to make sense of what’s happening, the TV was supposed to be background white noise but Aaron didn’t notice which station he’d left it on; he didn’t begrudge Andrew’s decision to turn it off.
Something about his brother’s calm indifference– even when Aaron knows he must be seething on the inside– makes him want to accompany him, not leave him to his thoughts even for the short trip to the hospital.
Andrew doesn’t answer, but once he’s seemingly satisfied that he has everything he presumably needs, he gives Aaron a once-over then stalks to the door. Aaron takes it as a yes and hurries to follow after him.
It’s silent between the twins all the way to the car, both studiously ignoring the pitying looks from other PSU athletes lingering around the dorm building. It’s not the first tragedy the Foxes have had to deal with, it’s hardly even the second or third.
In Aaron’s opinion, this is different though.
It’s different from Gordon’s death, or Josten’s trainwreck of a first semester, or even Aaron’s own murder trial. This time it’s Kevin, and though he hates to admit it, it’s never supposed to be Kevin.
Be it Andrew’s first promise to the ex-Raven or the fact that Kevin was the first person to look at his brother and see someone worth saving, someone who’s so much more than something to flinch at or cower away from.
And it doesn’t make sense, because Kevin gets scared, Riko is proof of that. But for some reason, all it took him was one look at Andrew for him to decide to give him his life on a platter. Though it escapes Aaron, the easiness with which Kevin offered himself up and the inevitable reciprocation from his brother, it fills him with inexplicable comfort; because Andrew deserved to be loved right.
The drive to the hospital is fifteen to twenty minutes depending on the traffic. Aaron starts speaking halfway through, “Nicky found a way for us to park in the underground parking lot. It saves us the hassle of cutting through the press.”
Andrew remains silent but Aaron’s used to it, so he just relaxes in his seat.
“I hate it.”
He shots straight up as subtly as he can, suddenly on full alert. He doesn’t look at his brother lest he spook the words out of him, but he knows Andrew knows he’s listening.
“Riko’s death should never be in the same sentence as this.”
Aha.
Well, Aaron agrees. But he maintains his stoic silence.
He’s not used to Andrew’s candidness, even if joint therapy has prepared him for moments like this. It’s still new every time.
As expected, Andrew continues his rant. “It was a fucking joyous occasion. I would’ve popped champagne if Kevin wasn’t too busy throwing his lungs up and crossing the threshold into alcoholism. But they are not the same thing. Kevin is not the same as that fucking imposter.”
He knows Andrew isn’t looking for rationality, but he wants to be an active participant in the conversation all the same.
“It’s not that they believe they’re the same, I think. It’s that they’re synonymous; them and exy. You can’t think of one without the other.”
“Well, fuck that.”
He’s never seen his brother this animated. Usually, Andrew’s anger is a quiet thing, simmering just beneath his skin. It’s the first time he sees it this close to the surface, this stark on a face identical to his own.
“Yeah,” Aaron agrees quietly, noting their arrival into the hospital’s underground parking lot. “Fuck that.”
It’s the only thing he can give his brother, short of bringing Kevin back.
The dull thud of the exy ball against the plexiglass tells Andrew everything he needs to know about Kevin’s dwindling physical state. He’s been at it non stop for the past four hours, and despite what he may think, Kevin Day is not superhuman.
He rises from his squat beneath the goal post at the same instance Neil drops his racket and stalks towards where Kevin is swaying side to side.
“That’s enough.” Try as he might, Neil can’t achieve the same definitive tone Andrew is an old hand at, but their stubborn idiot flinches anyway.
“I can-”
“Kevin.” Andrew interrupts, “you’re done.”
The blond has been the recipient of the full-force Kevin Day death glare enough times to know that this a pale imitation. He can’t even muster the energy to show his indignation adequately, that’s how Andrew knows Kevin is well and truly done.
He still opens his mouth– no doubt to be performatively contrary– but Neil gets there before he can say anything.
He flicks Kevin’s head through the helmet.
“I’m cold, and I’m tired and I want to go home.”
This, predicatbaly, heeds better results than telling Kevin that they know he’s about to keel over. His shoulders fall like strings cut from a puppet, and like his hand has been waiting for the command, he drops the racket after a subtle tremor going through his no-doubt fried nerves.
Andrew withholds any comments, electing to continue walking on eggshells around him a little longer.
It’s not a choice he enjoys making, but it’s been a month since Neil came back with the news of Riko Moriyama’s timely demise– well, in Andrew’s opinion, it didn’t come fast enough– and Kevin has been going back and forth between inconsolable grief and paralyzing relief like a dented ball in a ping pong match.
And he doesn’t understand, regardless of how many times Neil tries to reason with him that grieving someone who only ever hurt you is not an active choice but something that you just have to deal with. The only way out is through and whatnot.
The three of them shuffle tiredly out of court and into the locker room to shower and change. They maintain an easy silence all the way back to the dorms. Andrew goes up the roof for a smoke, Neil sticks to Kevin.
It’s the strategy that works best with Kevin. Gang up on him and he clams up faster than an oyster shell. It’s better to approach him slowly, one at a time.
“What is it?” He breaks the silence gingerly.
Kevin barely looks away from the rerun of a Trojans game that Neil could swear they’d already watched before. If Andrew was in the room, he would’ve turned the TV off out of spite.
Neil lets a second, two pass before he hefts himself down from the kicthen counter and walks over, throwing away the ice cream tub he just demolished.
“Kevin.”
The man in question finally turns away, green eyes hazed. “Yes?”
Neil studies his face for a second, searching for clues. Sunday dinners with Coach are usually fine. Kevin doesn’t tell them much but even when he returns with a dark cloud over his head and a mild frown marring his face, the tension often fades by the time they go to bed.
Today though, he hasn’t said one word since he was dropped off by Wymack and they went for night practice, not even to comment on Neil’s shooting drills. Kevin being nonverbal when it comes to exy had to be cause for concern.
“How was dinner?” Neil asks patiently, taking a seat next to him on the sofa.
Kevin pauses, eyes downcast before he musters the fakest smile Neil has ever seen on his face; and he’s seen plenty. “It was fine.”
The redhead raises his eyebrows, unimpressed.
“Day.”
Kevin’s puzzled expression morphs into trusty indignance. Neil cleverly doesn’t smile.
“What?” He bites out, but Neil sticks to the probing silence.
“It was fine- well, it was shit, but no more than usual.”
He plobs himself onto Kevin’s lap and the raven takes his weight gracefully, arms wrapping automatically around him to prevent him from sliding to the ground rather painfully.
It’s a good choice, Neil thinks, when he takes in the view his current position graces him with. He has a first row seat to the striking emerald of Kevin’s eyes, beautiful even when cloudy with unspoken turmoil. His lashes are long, oh so long, casting fine shadows on the high of his cheeks. The queen tattoo is the only anomaly in an otherwise flawless face, but instead of being off-putting, it makes Neil want to giggle and kick his feet like a schoolgirl; both for how ruggedly handsome it makes him look and for the history behind it.
“Hi.” He whispers with a grin.
Kevin smiles shyly, the storm behind his eyes receding gradually.
“Hey yourself.” He says, his hand coming up to tuck a stray lock behind Neil’s ear.
“What happened?” Neil strikes when Kevin least expects it, taking a leaf out of Andrew’s book.
It’s immediately obvious that Kevin notices the tactic with the way his smile upturns, but he pulls Neil closer all the same, looking up at the TV.
“Nothing happened. He was… Angry, I think.” It’s distant, the way he speaks, like he’s taking himself away from the conversation.
“At you?” Neil asks patiently.
“No,” Kevin shakes his head immediately, running to his father’s defense. “He’s not like that.”
Neil waits him out.
“We were talking about mom.” He confesses. “He’s very touchy about her, but I always want to hear their stories. I think he likes indulging me, even though it hurts him.”
“It’s hard, enjoying the one thing that causes him pain.” He stutters through a breath.
Neil rests his head against Kevin’s sternum, taking his left hand and cuddling it his chest, unconsciously tracing the pale lines of his scars.
“I don’t think it hurts him when he makes you happy. Maybe he hates reliving their memories together, but I think he wants to do it for you.”
“Wymack doesn’t strike me as a man who does anything he doesn’t want to.”
Kevin ponders it for a moment. “I guess we’re just doomed to always expect more out of each other than what’s fair.”
“That is so not what I said.” Neil complains, poking at his tattoo playfully.
“I know,” Kevin gives him a melancholic smile. “It’s what I said.”
“Drama queen.” The redhead sighs, “Today can suck, but tomorrow’s a new day, and next Sunday’s a new dinner and Wymack will forget his anger.”
It’s silent for a few moments.
“Is this optimism from Neil Josten as I live and breathe?” They turn in unison to look at their dorm door– too caught up in each other to have heard it opening– to see Andrew standing with a bored stance and his hands buried in his sweatpants pockets.
Neil doesn’t know the scene they’re giving the blond but judging by his gentle, barely-there smile, it’s a nice vision.
“Neil’s very optimistic, what are you talking about?” Kevin feigns offense on Neil’s behalf and one look at him tells Neil that he already feels lighter.
He shares a knowing look with the blond as he approaches leisurely.
As the two of them start bickering, Neil smiles, thinking to himself ‘mission accomplished’.
“I first met him when he was four, you know?”
Neil looks up from a particularly stubborn maths problem, taken aback by the sudden statement. Wymack looks exhausted– not in the ‘I haven’t slept in days, making calls back and forth to the ERC because of you rascals’- but rather in the bone-deep way, with broad shoulders sagging and bloodshot eyes downcast.
David Wymack has never looked defeated. Neil has seen him angry when one of his Foxes is hurt, smug when they do something he should disapprove of but makes him proud instead, stern when they need to get their heads out of their asses, even fatherly on occasion. But his shoulders have never drooped this low, his eyes have never held this amount of sorrow and helplessness.
“Hear that, Kev? Neil is not the only Fox who was subject to the human tornado that was child Kevin Day.”
Neil finds himself smiling in spite of the boulder-like weight making a home on his chest.
He imagines a young Kevin, younger even than when he first met him as a scared child, free of the looming pressure of exy, of being Kayleigh Day’s son and the Moriyama’s investment and Riko’s– whatever Riko wanted him to be.
“They were in the US for a short period of time– Kayleigh was a flitting bird, never in the same place for more than a month or two– She called, said she was in town, and do I want to meet Kevin?” Wymack recounts, Neil tells himself he doesn’t enjoy this rare instance of candidness from the older man but he’s lying.
“At first, I didn’t want to. It felt like she was just rubbing it in. Why would I want to meet the reminder that I never had her, could never do? But then I saw you, Kev.”
“We were at a children’s park, you were already at the slides.” He has a bittersweet smile on his face. He directs it at Neil next, “he was a very well-mannered child. Kayleigh called out to him, told him to come say hi to Mr Wymack.”
The man tears up and Neil has a half a mind to get up and run. An angry man he’s had plenty of, he knows how to duck, defuse a situation where his survival hinges on absorbing the sharp sting out of stronger feelings than bigger men know what to do with. Sadness, though, he wasn’t taught how to navigate it. Not for himself, not for anyone he cares for.
“He walked over, prim and proper, not a hair out of place. Held his hand out, “hello, Mr Wymack, how do you do?” He’d said. His front tooth was gone, he had a lisp.” The older man runs a hand through his hair, Neil is at a loss at how bereaved he looks, as if Kevin’s already lost.
“Sometimes I’m overwhelmed by how much I missed. I think he can sense it sometimes, my anger at how unfair all of it is.”
Neil already knows. He remains silent.
“But I don’t blame you, Kevin.” Suddenly, the redhead feels like he’s intruding. He’s stuck to his seat by sheer willpower.
Coach takes a deep breath, his eyes clearing as if he hasn’t shed one tear. Neil can’t help but notice how painfully Kevin this gesture is. How many times has Kevin had to get himself together in under one second to fit into a role he’s been forced into?
“You were- You are my greatest joy.” The older man holds his son’s hand in both hands, reverent. “I liked you when you weren’t my son, and the instant I knew you were, I loved you. No force in the entire world will take that away from us. For as much time as we have left.”
It’s Neil who cries this time, for all the things he wishes Kevin would just come back to.
Neil doesn’t talk to Kevin.
He can’t explain it. He knows Kevin will wake up just like he knows the sun will continue to rise each morning, because not even a coma should be able to put Kevin Day down.
Try as he might, though, he can’t convert that blind faith into an actual effort to speak. Some days he doesn’t have the words, other days they’re on the tip of his tongue but his mouth won’t let them go, sealed shut by a force larger than he can fight.
Andrew doesn’t believe Kevin will wake up. Yet, he reads to him every single day, regales him with random snippets of their day without him, keeps a stream of inane comments and gossip they both know the raven secretly likes.
He doesn’t act like Kevin is out of reach, even though Neil knows that out of the two of them, it’s the blond who can’t muster any hope. Because good things rarely happen to them.
But Neil has had good things happen to him lately, and so he decides that whatever supreme being that has been allowing him slivers of good grace here and then will continue to do so, and he’ll get Kevin back.
In the meantime, as they wait for him to wake up, they haven’t been able to leave him for long. Sure, Neil goes for runs and Andrew leaves to smoke or get them things they need from their dorm, but neither of them is gone for long, and they never leave Kevin alone.
Following a rather unfortunate incident with hospital staff the first night, they’ve reached a tentative understanding that Kevin has to have at least one visitor at all times. Neil suspects Wymack had something to do with how readily the nurses accepted it.
It’s one of those instances, with Neil spending the night while Andrew tries to catch up on much-needed sleep, when the redhead feels brave enough to try reaching Kevin.
He sings.
His mumbling is nothing above a whisper. He recalls this song from the very rare cases in which his mother was in a good mood, finding it in herself to utter anything beyond idle threats and empty platitudes.
It’s been playing in his mind every now and then, the sound of it very different when the danger and insecurity lurking around it are nowhere to be found. The hospital room is quite save for his quiet rasp, the world outside of it coming to slow grind as the early hours of dawn approach.
“And all the lights that lead the way are blinding,” He sings, clutching Kevin’s still left hand with both of his. “There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don’t know how.”
It’s fitting, he thinks. Neil’s not very keen on music, could never walk around with headphones on because he can’t physically handle losing one of his senses however momentarily it is, but as far as songs go, this one’s pretty acceptable.
I said maybe,
You’re gonna be the one that saves me.
He watches Kevin’s passive face, gaze caught on the moles scattered across his skin. There’s one he really loves, lying right on his left temple. It’s usually hidden with his hair but lying on his back pushes his hair back, putting it on full display.
Neil loves kissing that mole. He loves asking Kevin if he can kiss it, both for consent and for the adorable blush that takes over his face. He decides that the first thing he’s going to do when Kevin wakes up is kiss that mole.
If only he’d hurry up.
Andrew stares at Kevin.
It’s not that he refuses to speak. He’s not Neil, it’s not a choice not to let the words out. But every time he opens his mouth, it falls shut on its own, unspoken words a heavy weight dragging his tongue down.
Kevin would laugh– will laugh when he wakes up at anything managing to render the Andrew Minyard speechless, never mind that that thing is Kevin’s chest barely rising and falling underneath the flimsy hospital gown and a heart monitor clipped briskly at his left pointer, the line of scars stark against the pale hand.
He hates this version of Kevin, wants to shake him awake but Bee was very adamant on anger not being the correct emotion here. He’s had to do that sometimes when he first started therapy with her, ask for cues on how to feel when emotions are too jumbled for him to tackle with rational thought.
It’s been a while since he had to though.
She said concern is a valid reaction, worry, fear, all of them being normal to oscillate between, but anger was a step in the wrong direction, because who was he angry at?
The drunk driver swerving onto the curb? Yes, yes, fuck is he angry at him. He wishes he could kill him, but Neil and Wymack have been very pointedly leaving Andrew out of the ongoing court case.
Kevin? The raven’s had enough people be angry at him for things out of his control, Andrew refuses to be just another person he has to answer to for something that’s not his fault.
But no, who Andrew is really angry at is himself. Because Kevin is his. His to protect, his to keep alive and well and happy and breathing and not lying lifeless on a hospital bed.
What good is a promise if he breaks it every time it happens to stretch in the wrong direction?
Bee was also very adamant on reminding him that there’s no plausible explanation why this could be his fault. But sometimes Andrew doesn’t believe her, and this is one of those times.
“Andrew.” He tunes back in to the conversation he didn’t know he was a part of until now.
Renee’s at Kevin’s bedside, resting her elbows on the bedrails childishly.
“I was just telling Kevin what he missed at practice. Do you want to tell him anything?”
It’s a set-up, because Andrew hasn’t set foot at the Foxhole Court since Kevin was admitted more than a week ago. It sends a rush of exhilaration through him, as if he’s about to be on the receiving end of Kevin’s endless rant regarding wasted potential and athletic burnout.
“We’ve tried playing on his anger already, nothing riles him up enough to wake up.” He raises his brows at his friend, feeling oddly pleased at the way her mouth curls in a smirk.
“Andrew hasn’t been to practice, Kev. Think he’s waiting for you to come back.”
“I’m waiting so you don’t feel lonely when you come back to find that you suddenly suck.” Andrew’s teasing rings empty, but he pays it no mind.
“Kevin Day would never suck at exy.” Renee says, playfully defensive.
Andrew doesn’t say anything for a moment.
“That’s true.” His voice softens without his say-so, eyes moving to the raven. He doesn’t know what to do with the quiet desperation in his chest for Kevin to give him anything. A twitch, a mumble, hell, a glare would be like balm to his soul.
But good things never happen to people like Andrew. And so Kevin stays still.
Today’s relatively crowded. Nicky sits on the plastic chair, Wymack is getting some paperwork done on the uncomfortable sofa, Abby sits at the end of Kevin’s bed and Neil stands by the window, taking post next to Andrew.
“The Berliner Dom was rather underwhelming, I don’t think you would’ve enjoyed it.” Comes the crackle of Erik’s voice from Nicky’s phone, put on speaker next to Kevin’s head.
“He betrayed you, Kev. I vividly remember him promising you we’d all go together the first time you visit Germany.” Nicky laments theatrically, his chin resting on his fist while he leans his elbow on the pillow next to his phone.
Neil swears he hears Andrew snort, but there’s nothing but forced boredom when he looks at the blond.
“I saved the best for you, Kev. I’ll be seeing the Kölner Dom with you by my side, that’s a promise.”
Nicky perks up like a dog who just smelled a cheeseburger.
“Err- should I be jealous?” He asks cheekily. Wymack looks up from his work to raise an eyebrow. Abby chuckles, goodnatured.
Erik’s laugh is boisterous even through the phone. “Gone are the days when you were asking if he could be our third, huh?”
The brunet straightens comically, as if feeling Andrew’s laser gaze on his back.
“Hush, Erik. He’s someone else’s third now.”
“Nicky.” Andrew deadpans threateningly, not moving an inch from his perch atop the tiny windowsill.
“Is that Andrew? Hey, Andrew! We’re not flirting with your man, I promise.” A pause, before Erik continues. “Not that we don’t want to, Kev, but we’re respecting your wishes. That said, our offer stands for as long as we’re alive.”
Three things happen at once. Neil laughs, Andrew jumps down from the windowsill, and Nicky fumbles with his phone as he hangs up on his boyfriend as quickly as possible.
Neil can’t help it, because Andrew is not an inherently jealous person. Be it security or general apathy, he’s just never reacted to the possibility of losing Kevin or Neil to other people.
It’s funny seeing him stalk over to his cousin, said cousin squawking comically as he rounds the bed to put Kevin between him and the angry blond, much in the same way he used to do when Kevin was awake.
“Tell your boyfriend to stay away from mine.” Andrew glowers, and Nicky, despite being scared out of his mind, grins maniacally.
Neil blinks.
“Boyfriend, huh?”
It’s Wymack, thankfully, who prods at the elephant in the room, because Nicky would not have survived that, Neil absently thinks.
He can’t focus on anything past the rush of hearing the word ‘boyfriend’ out of Andrew Minyard’s mouth. It’s charmingly childish and so extremely funny he finds himself looking at Kevin. Because Kevin would’ve loved this, even more than Neil.
“Mind your paygrade, Coach.” The blond hisses but all the occupants in the room are as intimidated by Andrew as they could be by a wet kitten.
Then, “Actually, Erik is my fiancé.”
Neil snickers, “I guess you have some catching up to do, Andrew.”
His heart is full when the room erupts in sorely-missed laughter, albeit a more subdued than it usually is.
“Looks like you have something to look forward to, Kev.” Abby trills gently, her hand tightening on Kevin’s foot under the hospital’s sctratchy blanket.
Andrew doesn’t contradict her.
“Kev,” Abby’s voice is soft, Andrew turns to look out of the window, watching people walk in the hospital parking lot like ants from the tenth floor. “I’m holding out on making lime pie until you’re back. I don’t think David would eat it if I did anyway.”
Andrew looks at the curly-haired woman’s reflection in the mirror, watching her reach out to brush a hair out of Kevin’s face. She and Wymack are the only ones exempt from the unspoken no-touching rule, although he hates it.
There’s gentleness in her touch though, Neil thinks it can coax Kevin back to them.
“I’m stacking up more sour recipes.” She continues conversationally, “Once you’re out of here, you and I will try every single one. I’ll invite David and you can invite your boys.”
Your boys. It’s what Abby has taken to calling them.
“You just have to wake up, sleepyhead.” She finally breaks but before she can let her tears fall, she sniffs then violently wipes at her eyes. Good, Andrew has no tolerance for tears. Neil is usually more lenient, it’s why Nicky visits when he’s around.
They let the comfortable silence linger in the room, Andrew turns around to watch her lightly brush her fingers through Kevin’s hair, leaning against the window with his arms crossed behind his back.
“Abby?”
It escapes him without permission, he physically cringes at how weak he sounds.
She perks up, turns to him with an encouraging smile.
“Yes, Andrew?”
“Do you– What do you tell Coach?” He asks.
It’s vague, he doubts she’ll understand what he means, but he has to try.
She studies him for a moment, then motions for him to approach. He raises a challenging eyebrow, to which she responds with a chuckle. She beckons him again, patting the empty space next to Kevin's legs.
He complies, if only to get an answer out of her. It’s the closest he’s sat to Kevin ever since he was admitted, he muses as he makes himself comfortable on the edge of the hospital bed, legs dangling.
Abby keeps one hand on Kevin’s while she leans her elbow on the bed rail, giving Andrew her full attention.
“There’s no telling when he’ll wake up.” She starts slowly, Andrew ignores the lump in his throat. “Or really, if he’ll wake up.”
Andrew looks away, about to step down from the bed and away from the suffocating truth in Abby’s words.
She holds up a hand for him to wait. He doesn’t look at her.
“That’s what I should be telling David, if I were to be professional.” She says morosely. “But I’ve never been as professional as I need to be when it comes to you boys.”
She’s referring to the Foxes. Andrew meets her eyes hesitantly, they have a knowing gleam in them that reminds him of Bee.
“So I tell him that Kevin will make it. Because it’s not impossible for coma patients to resurface and return to lead a normal life, and he’s pretty good at doing the impossible; so that’s just more odds stacked in his favor.”
Andrew breaks eye contact, somewhat disappointed.
“But that’s not what you want to hear, is it?”
He’s not used to displaying vulnerability, especially not with their team nurse. He shakes his head, the gesture a little petulant.
He knows Kevin is strong, he’s had to survive different flavors of hell since he was five years old; from the death of the only parent he knew and getting thrust into the Moriyama’s hands before he could even hold his racket correctly, to having to downplay his talents and capabilities to placate a manchild convinced that torturing Kevin was his birthright. Hell, he’s had to survive Andrew himself at one point.
So he knows if anyone can survive this, it will be Kevin.
But knowing things and waiting for them to happen are two separate things, and one of them does not necessitate the other. So Andrew is stuck with this wretched feeling of Kevin slipping through his fingers.
“Why is it that you’re angry, Andrew?”
He gives her an unimpressed look. She doesn’t appear cowed.
“David is scared, he could lose his son only a year after finding out he exists. The team is grieving the only way they know how, by making jokes about the situation and hoping it somehow resolves itself. Neil is internalizing so much of his feelings that I doubt even he knows what he’s feeling for certain. But none of them are angry. Most of them have already accepted that this happened. Kevin got hit by a drunk driver, and he’s in the hospital, unable to wake up. What about this makes you so angry?”
“You’d do well to remember that you’re not my therapist.”
“And I’m not delusional enough to miss that you wouldn’t be entertaining this conversation if there wasn’t something you want to hear specifically from me. So answer me, Andrew.”
Any other time, Andrew would’ve taken himself out of the conversation and left the room entirely. But loath as he is to admit, Abby knows him better than most, and she’s right.
“Hasn’t he had enough?” He pleads, his mask of apathy falling. “Why do we never get a break? Why is there always another shoe dropping?”
Abby’s face is devoid of emotions, which eases some of his uneasiness. He expected to find pity or pain in her eyes, but she’s looking at him imploringly, waiting for more.
“It’s not fair. He shouldn’t have had to survive the Nest, and he shouldn’t have had to survive getting his playing hand obliterated because Riko was a jealous and insecure piece of shit. He shouldn’t have had to keep Neil’s secrets or see the worst of me for doing it. Does he ever get to catch a break? Is he going to die before it ever gets better?”
Andrew is not crying by the end of his rant, but it’s a close thing. And he’s not sad, Andrew is never sad. He is just so angry, and it makes those pesky tears pool in his eyes.
Abby holds out her hand imploringly and he shakes his head, folding his hands in his lap. She smiles in reassurance, drops her hand to Kevin’s still one.
“I don’t think Kevin’s going to die, Andrew.” She begins with a deep breath, her tone filled with certainty he’s not sure he can ever replicate. “But should he not wake up, and I do not see that happening, Kevin’s had a good run.”
She holds her hand up before he can interrupt in indignation.
“And yes, it’s been shit, for the most part. But I don’t think Kevin was–” She cuts herself off shakily, “I don’t think he’s unhappy. I think he knows how hard things have been for him, and how much they didn’t have to be this hard. But instead of feeling wronged about it, I think it just manages to make him appreciate the good moments more.”
Andrew pauses, turning it over in his head.
“I don’t know if you notice, but Kevin gets this really dopey smile on his face whenever he’s in a room that has you, Neil, and David in it. It’s his greatest joy, being surrounded by people who love him, especially when he’s not at the center of your attention. He loves watching all three of you interact, and I watch him in return, because he deserves to have his joy recognized and remembered.”
Abby tears up, turns to the sleeping man with a broken smile. Andrew can’t help but follow her gaze to one half of his heart, lying so peacefully while a storm rages inside Andrew’s mind.
“I think it’s unfair, to reduce his life to just misfortunes. Because given the chance, that’s not all he’ll remember.”
Andrew is very good at seeing pictures, big and small, looking at every nook and cranny with a keen eye, registering and filing away the little details. But looking at it now, with the fresh perspective from Abby, he thinks maybe he can see the happiness she speaks of.
He remembers all the little smiles Kevin tries to hide when someone brings up his mother in conversations he originally thought were boring, remembers his soft gaze trained on Neil when he does something out of the ordinary that sends even Andrew’s heart careening towards the edge in fondness, remembers the satisfied glint illuminating bright green eyes when Andrew does a particularly wild save in exy.
He remembers Kevin’s keen stare, tracking his father whenever he’s not in their vicinity, as if he can’t quite believe that they’re finally father and son. And as much as he hates it, he remembers Kevin’s fondness when he’s watching Jean play exy with a team he’s not in, his happiness whenever they have the misfortune of meeting the Trojans on rare occasions.
Andrew came into this conversation not expecting much, but he leaves with the reminder that for all he knows about Kevin, there’s still much he’d like to keep finding out. And instead of making peace with the idea that Kevin might not wake up, it fills him with renewed vigor that if anyone can survive this, it’s Kevin.
Jean and Jeremy come to visit twice.
The first time is cut short. Jean can’t stomach the sight of a bedridden Kevin, looks at him for a grand total of five seconds before he bolts out of the room with a flimsy excuse none of them gets to hear.
Jeremy stays behind, Neil suspects it’s more for Jean’s sake than his own, and sits at Kevin’s bedside.
“What are they saying?” He asks, voice not rising above the quiet monitor in the corner of the room.
Neil follows his line of sight and his heart twinges at Kevin’s calm face. Ironically, he doesn’t recall ever seeing the raven this peaceful, even in sleep.
It’s devastating that the only time he was ever really at peace is now, when his life was balancing on the edge of oblivion.
“Vitals are fine, they’ve been stable since he got out of surgery. He’s breathing well, they’re keeping his body active with some light exercise so the muscles don’t atrophy. They don’t know if he’s ever gaining that muscle mass back–” out of everything he says, he knows in his heart that this is what is supposed to get a rise out of Kevin.
If only he was awake to hear it.
Jeremy’s face is blank as he places one hand on the bed rail and leans closer.
“It’s okay, Kev, if anyone’s gonna get it back, it’s you.”
Neil blinks.
Jeremy offers him a smile that is usually blinding but is lackluster at best.
“I researched some, it’s good for him to have sensory stimulation, isn’t it? Jean was practicing what he wanted to say during our flight, but it’s okay, we’ll get there eventually.”
Neil finds his breath hitching at the level of care coming from unexpected allies. He loves Kevin, the reminder that he’s not the only one is always welcome.
Jeremy turns back to the bed.
“Jean’s here. I reckon he’s having trouble coming to terms with the fact that you’re a measly human like the rest of us, but you know how he is. He’ll be here any minute.” He rests his chin on the bedrail.
“Until he is though, let me tell you about our trip to Alcatraz. Jean hated it so much, said you would’ve liked it for history purposes–” Jeremy starts recounting the Trojan’s adventures at an unresponsive Kevin and Neil aches for him, hopes he can hear this and pledges to take Kevin anywhere and everywhere that Jean is likely to think is stupid and he is likely to like for history purposes.
Jean doesn’t come back the first visit.
The second time they come to Kevin’s room, Andrew and Neil are both at his right. Andrew reads softly while Neil lets the easy combination of Kevin’s quiet breaths and Andrew’s matter-of-fact tone lull him into an easy sleep, laid back into his seat with his head rolled to one side.
A clearing of the throat alerts them to new visitors, cutting Andrew off mid-sentence.
Neil grins while the blond narrows his eyes threateningly.
“Hello, we’re here to stay this time!” Jeremy proffers enthusiastically while Jean hangs back, looking as tense as he’s ever been in the presence of Foxes.
He’s staring at Kevin.
“He won’t bite, Valjean.” Andrew says dryly. Jean glares at him briefly as he approaches the bed at a snail’s pace.
They wait with baited breath as Jean scans Kevin’s prone body from head to toe, hand coming to rest on the bedrail gingerly.
“Avez-vous eu des nouvelles des Moriyamas?” He doesn’t look away when he asks in French. Have you heard from the Moiryamas?
Andrew perks up at the mention but Neil holds a hand up subtly in reassurance.
“Oui.” He answers curtly, idly tracing the scar lines on Kevin’s hand.
“Alors?” Jean asks impatiently, glaring at the redhead.
Neil lets him stew for a second. “Ils surveillent la situation, c'est tout ce qu'ils ont dit.” They’re monitoring the situation, that’s all they said.
Jean’s cold stare turns more frigid.
“Quoi? Ils ne le laisseront pas mourir en paix.” Neil tenses and Andrew brandishes a knife out of his sleeve solely in reaction to his reaction.
“Woah, woah, woah! Let’s all take a step back here.” Jeremy holds his hands up, Jean doesn’t move.
Neil glares. “He’s not dying.” He grits out in English.
He won’t let anyone convince him that this isn’t temporary, that Kevin won’t ever open his eyes and come back to hound Andrew about his sugar intake or unathletic habits or comment on Neil’s footwork while caressing his face affectionately or watch documentaries with Aaron that they take turns making fun of them for or go shopping with Allison and Renee and buy meaningless trinkets that reminded him of Andrew and Neil or go to Sunday dinner at Wymack’s apartment and come back heavy with emotion and Abby’s food.
“He’s been in a goddamn coma for over a week, what do you think is going to happen?”
“Be very careful, Moreau. We’d hate for Kevin to wake up and find you dead because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”
“Guys!” Jeremy tries to interject urgently, looking at Neil beseechingly. “This is not what Kevin needs right now.”
Andrew’s hackles are slow to come down once they’ve risen, so Neil takes it upon himself to de-escalate the situation.
“Moreau, let’s step out for a moment.” He demands, sharing a look with Andrew. Out of the two of them, Neil’s the better-equipped Fox at handling Jean.
Jean gives Andrew a glare over his shoulder as he stalks out of the room. Neil follows.
They don’t go far, coming to a standstill in the same hall a few steps away.
“You’re angry.” Neil acknowledges when they’ve been standing for an awkward while.
“Do not presume to know how I’m feeling.” The redhead rolls his eyes at the Frenchman's scathing rebuttal.
“I don’t presume. It’s written all over your face.” He bites back with as much vitriol, “Kevin doesn’t need your anger, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve it, so rein it in.”
“Oh yeah? Who died and made you king?” He sees the jab for what it is instantly.
“No one’s dead, you fucking imbecile.” Neil snarls, staring down all six feet of him with fiery anger. “He’s not dead, he’s not dying. He’s Kevin Day. If there’s half a chance for him to pull through, he’ll damn well take it.”
Jean’s anger quickly morphs into devastated hopelessness.
“What makes you so sure, huh? The Kevin I know leaves, he fucking quits and he doesn’t care who he leaves behind.”
It takes everything in Neil not to physically react to the statement. He knows somewhere deep that Kevin and Jean haven’t yet worked their way through Kevin’s departure from the Nest, but he can’t control the visceral need to come to his lover’s defense when Jean’s side of the story is so thin-layered.
By some miracle, he keeps his mouth shut.
Jean seems to find his silence surprising as well, for he blinks owlishly at him a few times before grimacing and looking away.
“Are you keeping him entertained?”
Neil gets whiplashed at the change of tone.
“Yes, there’s exy reruns on the TV so that he always has running commentary whenever none of us are speaking. Everyone visiting keeps him updated on things I frankly think don’t interest him.”
“Is he healthy?”
“As can be, he has daily physical therapy and the results of his neurological evaluations are reasonable.”
“What about his hygiene? He’d hate to wake up and find his hair greasy.”
“We couldn’t get to his hair until Wednesday, when they removed the bandages but Andrew tried his hardest to get the dried blood out of it. It’s mostly clean, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate a shower once he’s up.”
To say Jean is satisfied would be stupid, but Neil knows that this will have to do for now.
“I don’t trust you to take care of him.” The Frenchman says just to be irksome. Neil scoffs.
“No one cares, Jean, get over yourself and get in there. If you have something to say to him, try saying it sometime this century. God knows this will be the only time you can get a word in with Kevin, so go and take it.”
Oddly enough, Jean complies.
Unsurprisingly, Jean talks to Kevin entirely in French.
Neil can tell Andrew dislikes this, part of him defensive– the part that needs to know everything being said to or around Kevin– but he suspects that Andrew, like Neil himself, wishes the familiar cadence of the Frenchman’s voice stirs something in the comatose man.
“J'ai rien à te dire.” I have nothing to say to you.
Jean says, before he proceeds to monologue.
“Jeremy says I hate you because I have you to hate.” He tells the comatose man under the watchful gaze of the other three men, with Neil as the only understanding listener. “Sometimes I think he says things just because he can. But I can see why you like him.”
The redhead is taken aback by how comfortable Jean feels saying all this when he knows Neil can understand everything he says.
“It’s stupid. You can’t survive the Nest and that psychotic midget and his murderer family just to get killed by a drunk driver.” Neil lets out an accidental snort, the other two none the wiser. Jean looks down but Neil could swear he can see his lips turning up.
“There’s absolutely nothing this guy could say that could be funny,” Andrew grumbles, crossing his arms childishly. He looks down at Kevin, “Day, you better not be laughing in there.”
Jeremy chokes out an incredulous laugh at the sudden change in atmosphere. Neil smirks.
“No one asked you, Minyard.” Jean grunts, then switches to French, looking at Kevin. “You really know how to pick them, huh?”
Neil isn’t as offended as he should be, but he’ll be damned if he lets Jean’s barbs go uncontested.
“You’d know all about Kevin’s picks, wouldn’t you?” He isn’t mean enough to say it in English.
Jean shoots him a knowing look, “Parce que c'était lui, parce que c'était moi.”
Neil pauses, aware of Andrew’s eyes on him. Jeremy’s giving Jean the same look.
He turns to Kevin’s detached expression, feeling the ache of his absence like a missing limb.
“You need to come back, the rookies are a nightmare in practice.”
Aaron stands casually by the bed, hands buried in his pockets.
It’s a rare occasion where neither of the raven’s lovers– or guard dogs, as Allison has taken to calling them– is here. Neil is going over the performance of their recruits with Wymack, thankfully at the latter’s office. Aaron suspects they would’ve done it here if they didn’t need a DVD screen to watch practice highlights, but thankfully there isn’t, so they have to do it back at the Foxhole Court.
Andrew was somehow convinced to leave for a much-needed nap, only relinquishing the arduous task of watching Kevin breathe after Aaron promised to stay with him until one of them showed back up.
Aaron’s been alternating between sitting by Kevin, standing by the window and generally just getting acquainted with the room they have begrudgingly accepted as their home for the time being, because Kevin Day was here.
It’s unexpected, the gap left by his absence, because they’ve been without Kevin more than they’ve been with him, and frankly-speaking, Kevin was a bitch to be around at any given moment.
Was he? A traitorous voice in the back of his mind interjects.
Well, he was a very tough exy critic, and for someone as peer-pressured into exy as Aaron, that was bound to be a hassle to deal with. Passion was very difficult to replicate if you can’t find the spark within yourself.
Sure, he enjoyed playing, but that didn’t say much, he’d enjoy mucking stables if it was with his family– though he’d rather die before telling them that.
But yeah, outside of exy, Kevin was a very straightforwardly boring person to be around. A tragic background, a dead mom, zero friends outside their tight-knit group and an inexplicable zeal for history.
Aaron would be lying if he said he isn’t sorely missing the random history facts spouted at random times of their day, like the one time he told Aaron that toothpaste was originally an Ancient Egyptian creation while he was brushing his teeth, he hadn’t even spat it out before telling Aaron because that’s how urgent he thought the tidbit of information was. Or the one time he told Aaron the entire story of the burning of the Library of Alexandria on their walk to the Palmetto library for a cram study session.
So yes, Kevin is, dare Aaron say, his friend. And he fucking misses him.
He takes his hands out of his pockets, fidgeting where he stands.
“I know Andrew’s tried blackmail on you and it didn’t work, but if you can hear me, I want you to know that it’s only a matter of time before I tell everyone what happened at Eden’s the Halloween before Josten joined us. Maybe embarrassment is what will finally bring you back.” He gets it all out in one breath with resolution. He won’t, tell anyone that is, but desperate calls and all.
Predictably, Kevin doesn’t stir. Aaron had no grand idea that he’ll be the one to finally get through, his field of study and ever-growing medical knowledge tells him the question is far from who will get through, that comas don’t work this way. But he can’t help the twinge of disappointment at being unable to help.
The doom and gloom plaguing the team is difficult to withstand on any given day, and with Aaron’s closest friend outside of his family currently indisposed, Aaron’s finding it hard to accept a passive role in all of this.
He heaves a tired sigh, glumly accepting the oppressive silence.
Andrew pauses mid-movement, looking up from Kevin’s still hand.
It’s only him and Wymack right now, the latter watching a random baseball game with uncharacteristic intent while Andrew meticulously files Kevin’s nails exactly to his liking.
“Did you hear that?” He asks their coach, staring intently at Kevin’s mild frown and pursed lips. Facial expressions are not a new development, they’ve been here since day 6 of the raven’s impromptu exaggerated sleep. The doctors have taken it as a good sign.
Wymack rises from the plastic chair and leans with both hands on the bed rails, looking down at his son. “Hear what?”
The blond doesn’t let Kevin’s hand go, squeezing gently before calling out with quiet trepidation.
“Kevin.”
He holds a hand up without looking away when Wymack starts to say something. Kevin’s frown turns more pronounced.
The older man leans down close when he notices.
“Kevin?” He calls out softly, hopeful in a way Andrew can’t muster.
It’s silent for about a minute but both men stubbornly hold out, keeping their eyes trained on him.
Two things happen at once, the hand cradled in Andrew’s twitches minutely, almost like a reflex, while Kevin’s mouth starts moving, forming shapeless words that sound like a sentence coming from far away.
“Kevin, son, can you hear me?” Wymack asks gruffly, in contrast to how gently his hand pats Kevin’s cheek.
There’s a groan, then, “Mum?”
His voice is weak, if they both weren’t about to faceplant onto the bed, they wouldn’t have been able to hear it, but it’s there. Andrew shares a look with his coach.
“Day, I swear to God.”
Kevin’s hand leaves Andrew’s slack hold and comes up lethargically to swat at the blond’s general direction. It gets as far as the bed rails before flopping down again.
“Hmm’kay–” He groans, squirming farther into the bed. “Go w’ke Neil, ‘m up.”
Andrew’s eye twitches. Wymack clicks the button next to Kevin’s head.
“Kevin, can you tell me where you are?” The man asks calmly, taking the reins when Andrew feels like his heart is in his throat.
Kevin’s still for a second and the blond feels like he may have dreamt up the previous exchange, if it wasn’t for the raven’s hands opening and closing around nothing, as if he’s testing the movement.
“Dorm.” He rasps, squeezing his eyes shut
“Open your eyes, dumbass.” Andrew orders weakly.
Kevin whines childishly, looking in Andrew’s direction without complying.
“Head hurts.” He moans, squeezing them shut.
“It’s okay, Kev. We’ll get you something for the pain.” Wymack barely lets out a reassurance. Andrew can’t help but note how their coach has never been one for gentle soothing, yet he takes to it like sliding an old pair of sneakers that surprisingly fits him like a glove. “Can you tell me the last thing you remember?”
Andrew stays silent, watching Kevin’s eyes move behind his eyelids, no doubt trying to make sense of everything. He longs to see the familiar green, but finds it in himself to practice a little more patience. He’s waited more than two weeks for this moment; he can wait a little more.
He murmurs some unintelligible words before finally opening his eyes.
Andrew chokes out an abominable sound, holding onto the bedrails for dear life. The raven’s gaze is hazy as his pupils contract to adjust to the dimmed lights of the hospital room. His vision is glassy but Andrew’s breath hitches when they make eye contact, the blond able to gauge how far Kevin’s awareness goes.
He’s here, he’s really here.
“Hey,” He whispers, eyes annoyingly dry but if he had it in him, he knows he’d be crying.
Kevin takes a second to respond. He blinks once, twice.
“They were out of Fruit Punch. I got you sugar-free.” He rasps out.
Andrew narrows his eyes for a second. He’s talking about fucking Capri Sun.
“I know, I drank all of them.”
Kevin frowns, sparing a glance at his father as if to say ‘are you hearing this?’
“You hate the aftertaste of Stevia.” He states, blinking rapidly to chase the sleep away.
“I hate you more.” Andrew is lying, Wymack knows he’s lying and Kevin chances a small smile, knowing he’s lying as well.
A nurse interrupts the moment before they can get more out of him and suddenly the room is in a flurry of activity. A doctor comes in a minute later and a few nurses flit around, taking notes along with his vitals.
Wymack steps out, phone in hand. Andrew stays at Kevin’s bedside, nail file pressed tightly in his hand as he watches them work hawkishly.
They ask Kevin various questions, and it’s very clear he’s disoriented but he does his best to answer them in his typical people-pleasing manner.
No sooner than the doctor finishes interrogating him, the police are here to take his statement. Wymack comes back, somewhat surprised at how docile Andrew is staying Kevin’s side. It’s stupid, because Andrew may hate how everyone is crowding Kevin so quickly after waking up, but he’d never do anything to jeopardize his place by his side, so he swallows his annoyance and keeps vigil next to him.
“–I don’t remember much. I definitely didn’t see his face.” Kevin reiterates for what feels like the thousandth time, his expression tight.
Andrew exchanges a heated look with Wymack. The older man cuts in before the officers can ask any more stupid questions.
“Officers, why don’t we let him rest for now? He just woke up, and it’s been weeks. Maybe it’ll come back to him slowly.” He says resolutely, standing to his full height. “We’ll get in touch if he remembers anything else.”
They murmur their assent and take their leave, Wymack follows them to the door to hasten their departure. Andrew turns back to Kevin, hungrily cataloguing every small detail of his awake form.
“Where’s your other half?” Kevin asks sleepily, squirming back into his bed like an eel.
“You’re my other half.” He deadpans.
It’s a running joke. Andrew’s brand of affection is protection and rare occasions where he’s not totally cranky, so he uses it to his advantage whenever he wants to render one or both of his boyfriends speechless. He says something tooth-rottingly romantic out of the blue, and he loves the surprised laugh he gets out of Neil as much as he loves the meek blush coloring Kevin’s cheek.
It’s a new development in their relationship, but Andrew vows to overuse it now that they have Kevin back.
“I meant your other other half.” The raven chuckles with a shy grin.
“That’s three halves, Kev. The one thing my son sucks at just has to be maths, huh?” Wymack rejoins the conversation gruffly but he’s fooling no one, his joy crystal clear on his face. Kevin turns his sluggish smile to his father.
“It’s okay, Neil is good at maths, so you have a son or a son-in-law for every specialty.”
“Kevin Day, not one hour out of a coma and you’re already proposing?” They all turn to the door, where Neil is panting heavily as he leans against the doorway.
“Did you run here?”
His grin is absolutely feral.
“‘Course I did.” He says, before he leaps to throw himself at Kevin.
It warms Andrew’s heart immensely, and he finds it in himself to admit that Kevin’s loud oomph as he takes the redhead into his arms, with Wymack discreetly wiping a tear in the background, is definitely a scene worth the wait.