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Neil hadn’t been sleeping.
The nights stretched thin and strange, hours bending into each other until they were nothing but a blur. He would lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, the stillness pressing down on him like a suffocating weight he couldn’t escape. For years, he’d fallen asleep to the sound of Andrew breathing beside him, something that always steadied him and made him feel safe. Now, the bed feels wrong without Andrew next to him. It had taken time for him to get used to the weight and warmth of another body in the bed. Now, it felt foreign and wrong to not be sharing that space with Andrew.
If his mother knew how much he had come to rely on another person, she’d be very disappointed in him.
It’s been weeks since the semester started. He should’ve gotten used to this by now, but it was like his body refused to adapt to this new normal even though his brain had forced itself to accept it. This bed had been Andrew’s, and then it had been Andrew and Neil’s, and now it was just Neil’s. Andrew wouldn’t be coming, hadn’t shared this bed with him in months, but his body still kept him awake, expecting Andrew to join him, yearning for Andrew’s quiet, grounding presence beside him.
He couldn’t remember when his body forgot how to rest, when he had started reverting back to old habits from before he came to Palmetto and met the Foxes and got comfortable with truly living instead of just surviving. As long as he was able to maintain the illusion that he was doing fine, it didn’t matter.
The noise in his head was too much. At first, he tried to stay in bed, counting to 100 in his head in every language he knew, replaying game footage in his head, listening to the sound of his roommates breathing as they slept. He even tried drinking a tea before bed that supposedly helped with sleep. It didn’t do anything for him.
Too soon, he started to feel antsy when he stayed in bed, hoping for a sleep that wouldn’t ever come. He had no patience for staying still if he was going to be awake anyways.
Neil finally stopped pretending and got up when he couldn't stand it anymore. The clock read 2:43 a.m. The dorm was silent, everyone else asleep, and Neil knew exactly how to get changed and slip out silently without disturbing them. They probably wouldn’t even notice he was gone, not if he made it back before they woke up.
He could go for a run, but that was normally part of his routine in the morning before practice or sometime during the day between classes. Instead, he decided to go to the Foxhole Court.
The court was empty when he got there. He turned on all of the lights, changed into an extra set of workout clothes he keeps in his locker, and went straight into drills. It felt right, being on the court, practicing until his muscles ached, until the noise quieted slightly in his head.
Running afterwards helped, too. Keeping his body moving didn’t give him time to think, to worry about the pressure of his final season as captain. He couldn’t avoid thinking about it all the time, but it was nice to have a breather from it constantly hanging over him. Every mistake he made during games or even practice felt fatal. Neil had to be perfect because his life depended on him getting recruited to a good pro team and continuously performing well.
He knew Andrew’s team didn’t have space for a new striker next year, but there were several great teams in cities that weren’t too far away from where Andrew was based. Neil was hoping that at least one or two of them would be interested in recruiting him.
And Palmetto … it felt too different without his Foxes, his family. The dorm halls didn’t echo with Matt’s laughter or Nicky’s late-night phone calls with Erik. There was no Allison dragging him to the girls’ dorm so she could gossip to him or her forcing him to go shopping so she could continue expanding his wardrobe. No Dan to co-captain with and to learn from. No Kevin to practice, study game footage, or plan out plays for games with.
The air felt thinner without the people who once filled every inch of his life. There was once a time when Neil’s survival relied on him moving through the world alone and without being known; now he didn’t know how to deal with being lonely. At least there was Robin, who was steady in a way he clinged to more than he’d admit to himself. He leaned on her and was grateful for her, but it wasn’t the same.
It weighed on Neil constantly, not knowing what was next, knowing he couldn’t afford to fail, missing Andrew and the other Foxes. All of those nights he’d stayed in bed, thinking and worrying about everything had made it hard to breathe.
Now he knew he could suppress it all, even if just for a little bit, by going to the court and running for hours during the night. Staying out of the dorm until the sun was coming up also gave him a reason to avoid his empty bed.
When he got back to the dorm, Robin was just getting up. She was used to Neil running in the morning, so she didn’t blink an eye. She passed him a water bottle and focused on inhaling her morning coffee.
“You good?” She asked.
“Yeah, fine,” Neil replied, and in that moment, it really was the truth.
—
For weeks, night after night, Neil would leave the dorm after his roommates had fallen asleep and go to the court. He’d spend hours practicing, going through Raven drills and other ones he’d developed over the years repeatedly.
When the court lights shut off, he always ran,
At first, going to the court and running felt like an opportunity to escape from his thoughts and worries. The weight of everything started to press on him even when the court was empty. Especially when the court was empty. He stopped being able to find any break from it, and it left him irritated.
Sometimes he would forget to eat, and sometimes even just a single bite of food made his stomach twist. His nerves were stretched thin and it didn’t take much to set him off. All it took was one wrong word for him to snap at those around him or slam his stick against the court wall hard enough that Wymack would tell him to take a lap to cool down. Neil hated it, hated how close everything sat to the surface, how small the trigger had to be before something in him broke loose. He’d always had his father’s temper, but normally he was at least able to hide it better or do what he could to suppress it.
The team pretended not to notice, but everyone did. Especially Wymack, Abby, and Robin, who knew him the best of all.
Robin was subtle about it the way Renee used to be subtle—gentle prodding, sideways observations, offering snacks or sitting with him while he watched game footage instead of letting him isolate. She covered for him in interviews when his answers got too clipped. She elbowed him during meetings when he looked like he was zoning out. She kept him afloat.
Wymack and Abby checked in with him regularly, reminding him that they were there if he needed anything. They didn’t tell him that they were worried about him, but he could tell from the expressions of their faces when he said he was fine that they were.
Still, Neil brushed off their concern. He kept going, kept running, kept convincing himself that this was fine. He told himself that if he just kept going, eventually exhaustion would have to hit and when it did, it would fix everything. If he burned through everything he had, his body would have no choice but to sleep.
It had to work.
—
It didn’t work.
One night, something in him gave.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t even noticeable at first. It was just a quiet little crack somewhere under his ribs, a pressure point finally pushed past what it could endure. One moment he was pacing the dorm room, dragging harsh hands through his hair, repeating the same useless circuit between the kitchen and the living room over and over. The next, he was outside without remembering how he got there, the cold slamming into his chest, the pavement rolling under his feet like it was pulling him along.
He ran.
The world narrowed until it felt like tunnel vision. All he registered was the rhythm and slap of his shoes hitting the ground, the sound of his own breath, the sting of air against his throat. His chest ached, his ribs burned with every inhale, but he didn’t stop. He pushed harder, like he was trying to outrun his own skin, his own thoughts, the oppressive weight of expectation and loneliness and inability to control what’s coming next that claws at him as soon as the sun goes down and it’s time to sleep.
He ran until he stopped feeling anything at all.
By the time he came back to himself, he was already miles away, the street surrounding him unfamiliar. He normally had a good sense of direction, but right now he had no idea which way home was. His clothes were soaked through with sweat, curls plastered to his forehead, his legs trembling like they were seconds away from buckling completely.
His phone buzzed in his pocket like it was trying to escape. It didn’t have much power, but he was able to see there were multiple missed calls and a flood of text messages. A handful from Wymack, five from Robin, and countless from Andrew, the most recent telling him to pick up the phone. Guilt spread like ice in Neil’s chest.
He took a moment to try to catch his breath, his finger hovering on the button that was programmed to Wymack’s contact. When he pressed down hard on the button to make the call, Wymack picked up almost immediately.
“Where the hell are you?” Wymack demanded, his voice rough and torn between anger and concern.
“I don’t know,” Neil said, voice cracking slightly. He looked around at the unfamiliar street, trying to piece together enough information he could give to Wymack. “I’m on 7th Street and I think the crossroad is University Avenue. Can you come get me?”
Wymack exhaled heavily. “Stay where you are. Don’t move.”
The line went dead, and shortly after, Neil’s phone died. Hopefully Wymack wouldn’t need to call Neil again to be able to find him. He stood under the streetlight, arms wrapped around himself even though he was practically burning up. The crisp early morning air didn’t provide any relief. He felt untethered, floating somewhere outside of his own body. He had no idea how long he had been running, and he couldn’t even remember when he’d first left the dorm.
Neil wasn’t sure how much time passed before Wymack arrived, but it didn’t feel like long before headlights were cutting through the dark. Wymack pulled up hard to the curb, leaned across the seat, and shoved the passenger door open.
“Get in.”
The way Wymack hadn’t hesitated to come for him reminded Neil of when he’d returned to Palmetto from West Virginia, virtually unrecognizable and nothing more than a jumble of lies, and Wymack came for him immediately when he’d called. Neil swallowed, unsure if he’d ever find the words to thank Wymack for coming for him time and time again.
Neil’s muscles protested as he got into the car, every movement painstakingly slow. He should probably consider it lucky he was able to even move at all, what with how much pain there was lancing through his body. His hands shook when he buckled the seatbelt, and the tingling in his arms and legs ebbed and flowed as his body warmed up slowly.
The drive to Wymack’s apartment passed in silence. Neither of them got out when Wymack parked the car. He couldn’t meet Wymack’s gaze, but felt the weight of it as the coach studied him.
Wymack sighed. “You look like hell,” he said finally. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground, kid.”
Neil turned to stare out the window. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”
“Well, it’s too late for that. Robin was about ready to tear the campus apart looking for you. And Andrew’s about two seconds away from showing up here himself.”
Neil’s throat tightened. Andrew was states away in the midst of a busy first season with his professional team; the last thing Neil wanted to do was add more to his plate.
“He … what? Andrew knows?”
Wymack shot him a look. “Yeah. He knew quicker than any of the rest of us. Don't know how. Don’t care. But he’s losing it.”
“He’s busy,” Neil murmured, barely audible.
“Bullshit,” Wymack said. “He’s Andrew. Busy or not, he’s been blowing up my phone for at least an hour. You need to call him before he kills me through sheer willpower alone. But first, you need to get out of this car and take a shower.”
Neil followed Wymack into his apartment, accepting the towel and clothes Wymack pressed into his arms. He waved Neil off before he could say anything, insisting they’d talk more later, which Neil was not looking forward to. He wanted to just forget this had even happened, but he knew Wymack wouldn’t let that happen, let alone Andrew or Robin.
Neil turned on the shower and waited for it to heat up, taking his running shoes off and stripping his sweat-soaked clothes off. He couldn’t bring himself to look in the mirror, but most of the damage wasn’t visible anyways, other than the raw and bloody skin at the back of his heels and some cuts and blisters on his palm from clenching his fists too tightly.
When he got in the shower, the hot water provided little relief to his overworked muscles. He briefly wondered if he made the water even hotter, the pain from the scalding temperature would outweigh what he was feeling now.
Instead, he decided to slowly catalog every ache he felt. Neil was used to pain, but this was different, more extreme, a constant burn he wasn’t able to shake or ignore. He felt the strain in his calves when he shifted his weight just the slightest bit, making him wince. He would survive this, of course, but his legs would likely be close to useless for the next few days as his muscles healed. Thinking about that made Neil feel jittery.
He closed his eyes and stood under the spray for a long time, until the water went cold and he started to shiver. He felt like he was fraying at the edges, and wished he could just go take a nap instead of facing Wymack again.
Eventually, Neil forced himself to get out of the shower and dry himself off. He put on the clothes Wymack had given him, an oversized shirt and sweatpants that were too long on him. He left the bathroom and crept down the hall on unsteady legs towards the living room. As soon as Neil settled on the couch, he knew he wouldn’t be moving anytime soon.
Wymack came to join him, dropping a plate on the coffee table in front of him.
“Eat,” he said gruffly.
Neil did, because it was easier than arguing and it was easy enough to go through the motions when someone was watching. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he started eating, but the food tasted bland to him. He forced himself to finish all of it anyways, bite after mechanical bite taken under Wymack’s assessing gaze.
When Neil was finished, Wymack broke the silence.
“Listen,” he said. “Whatever this is, you have to get a handle on it. You don’t have to deal with it alone. You have a whole team behind you if you need them. You talk to Betsy, you talk to Abby, you talk to me, you talk to whoever you damn well need to. Because this?” He gestured at Neil’s hollow-eyed exhaustion. “This isn’t cutting it, and it isn’t sustainable.”
“I’m fine,” Neil said automatically, even though they both knew it wasn’t true and that he was falling back into old habits.
Wymack sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “One of these days, you’ll be the death of me. Just—call him.”
He passed Neil his phone, which he’d charged while Neil was showering. He took the plate Neil had eaten from into the kitchen, giving him some privacy. All Neil had to do was press one button to call Andrew. His fingers were steady when he did, and the line didn’t even ring once before Andrew accepted the call.
“Finally,” he said, voice monotone, but the undercurrent of tension was unmistakable to Neil. “You are an idiot.”
“I know,” Neil said quietly.
“You haven’t been sleeping.”
“No,” Neil agreed.
“Haven’t been eating either, I assume.”
“Wymack made me eat.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Neil didn’t respond, because he wasn’t sure what to say. He knew he’d let everyone down by being irresponsible with himself, by not addressing the issue more directly and instead using unhealthy coping mechanisms that helped no one. He didn’t know how to explain all of these thoughts and feelings to Andrew or anyone else, and he thought he’d be able to scrape by if he did everything he could to ignore them.
“You are an idiot,” Andrew said again. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I’m sorry,” Neil said.
“Shut up.”
Neil obeyed, and for a moment the only sound he heard was Andrew’s breaths.
“Don’t ever do that again.” Neil could hear the anger and concern in his tone, too attuned to the slight changes in Andrew’s voice and expressions to miss it even if the other man tried to conceal it.
“I won’t,” Neil said.
“Neil.” The way Andrew said his name made something in Neil’s chest loosen. “You don’t get to disappear, and you don’t get to try to outrun it. You call before it gets that bad.”
Relief hit Neil hard, settling deeply in his bones.
“I just—,” Neil started, but his throat felt too tight for him to continue. I miss you, Neil wanted to say, but it seemed too selfish and too honest of a thought to voice.
“I know,” Andrew said, as if he knew exactly what Neil was thinking and wanted to say. “I do too.”
Neil’s breath stuttered, and something in him uncoiled so sharply it hurt. Andrew’s voice was the first thing that felt real in weeks.
“Go to sleep.”
“I don’t think I can,” Neil said, so quiet he wasn’t sure Andrew would hear.
“You can,” Andrew said, firm but quiet in the way that always got through to Neil. “You will.”
Neil nodded even though he knew Andrew couldn’t see it. “Okay.”
They stayed on the line. Andrew kept talking, saying more than he usually would as if he knew Neil just needed to hear his voice right now. It was enough to make Neil feel safe and like he could stop fighting off the exhaustion.
When Neil finally drifted off, it was the first real sleep he’d had in weeks.
—
Neil sat up on the couch, blanket slipping off his shoulders and pooling at his waist. Wymack muttered something like Oh, for fuck’s sake as he opened the door.
He knew it was Andrew before he even heard his voice or saw him, but his heart still jackrabbited in his chest when Andrew spoke.
“Where is he?” Andrew asked, straight to the point.
Neil blinked, trying to clear his head which was still fogged with sleep, just as Andrew stepped inside. He was wearing all black, and had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. His hair was slightly mussed, and Neil wanted to run his fingers through it.
Andrew gave Wymack no more than a quick glance before his eyes locked on Neil. He looked him over closely, slowly, taking his time to study him. Neil watched him in return; it had been weeks since they last saw each other, and the guilt he felt that they were reuniting under these circumstances was immeasurable.
He broke the silence when he realized Andrew wouldn’t talk first.
“Hey,” Neil said, voice raspy.
“You look like shit,” Andrew finally said.
Neil let out a weak laugh. “And you’re not supposed to be here for another couple weeks.”
Andrew shrugged and dropped his bag by the door. “The team will be fine without me for a couple days.”
Wymack cleared his throat loudly. “I’ll leave you two to ... this. Get some more rest, yeah?”
He didn’t give them a chance to reply before he left, locking the door behind him. Neil stood on unsteady legs, intending to meet Andrew halfway but unable to move very far or quickly. Andrew was in front of him before Neil had made it more than a few steps. He didn’t touch Neil, not yet, but he stood close enough that Neil could feel the warmth of him, the solid certainty of his body, the grounding presence that reminded him he was real and gave him a reason to stay.
Neil tilted his head up, and their eyes met again. Something flickered in Andrew’s expression, there and gone, but Neil saw it. Fear, relief, anger, all tangled together and tightly leased. His jaw flexed.
Neil wanted to tell him that he was fine, but he knew Andrew hated it when he said that. He wanted to apologize again, but he knew Andrew wouldn’t listen. Instead, he just watched Andrew and waited.
Andrew reached out, curled two fingers into the front of Neil’s shirt, and tugged him forward just enough that their foreheads touched. He moved one hand to the back of Neil’s neck, the touch grounding. They breathed each other in.
“I’m here,” Andrew said quietly.
Neil’s breath shuddered out of him and he nodded, unable to find any words that wouldn’t splinter apart. He pressed his forehead more firmly against Andrew’s seeking more contact, needing it.
They stayed like that for a while, until Neil’s legs were aching and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stay standing any longer. As if he sensed it, Andrew shifted, nudging Neil gently back toward the couch.
Andrew dropped down onto the couch beside him, sitting close. He wrapped one arm around Neil’s shoulder and encouraged him to rest against him. Neil’s head dropped onto his shoulder and he leaned into Andrew’s warmth.
Andrew kissed his temple lightly before he rearranged them on the couch so they were laying down, Neil’s head resting against his chest.
“Sleep,” Andrew said softly.
Neil let his eyes fall closed. For the first time in weeks, everything truly felt okay and Neil felt whole. Even so, Neil hadn’t expected to be able to sleep again so soon, but the hum of Andrew’s heartbeat against his ear pulled him under easily.
When he woke up hours later to find Andrew still there, it felt like he was finally home again. He didn’t know if this would break the cycle he’d been stuck in, but he wasn’t worried about that right now. He would figure it out later. For now, being with Andrew was enough.