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Time wasn’t working well. That was the only reasonable explanation to what was happening. He had been sitting there, stuck in that lonely and cold airport, waiting for the plane that will take him home (a word Neil Josten had had to learn how to use because it wasn’t in his vocabulary starter pack) and still the departure time wasn’t on the screen. What could he have possibly done to deserve this? It’d been what looked like hours of relentless snow at the other side of the window glass and he was as close to get back to his apartment as he had been when he got there. It pissed him off.
He wasn’t in a good mood to begin with, they lost another game (the third one in a row). His teammates couldn’t get themselves to get their heads in the game and kept buggering him with stupid questions about his private life instead.
In moments like these he missed his Foxes more than ever. He missed how alive they were, how they seemed to outbright everything. How playing with them used to charge him up with a kind of power he didn’t know he had. Now, he was playing Exy with strangers, with the kind of people who didn’t understand what it was to have only one thing in life to keep you away from the abyss. That also pissed him off.
And if that wasn’t enough (if the delayed plane and the uncooperative team weren’t already a handful) it had been three weeks since he saw Andrew for the last time and before that they only had two days to spend together after four weeks of separation. He really should be used to live apart from him already, especially after his last year alone in Palmetto, but the truth was that he wasn’t. And right there, sitting alone in that airport, Neil felt the shadow of all his years on the run stronger than ever. Except that now it was even worse, now he knew what he was missing (or rather who ). That was definitely what pissed him off the most.
The light outside was long gone by the time the timetable in front of him displayed his boarding gate, but by then it was too late for whatever trace of good mood he had left. He was sulking in his seat, his face so grim none of the flight attendants tried to mess with him during the flight. Neil was even aware of the looks of recognition in some of the passengers’ faces, most probably Exy fans, but he couldn’t care less about his public image and kept looking out of the window. When they reached their destination he was too far gone to show any kind of positive emotion at the perspective of getting home.
Getting home to what? He wondered while he took a cab and gave the driver his address. To an empty apartment? To the things Andrew left behind? To sleeping in their bed all alone? The image was far from appealing at that moment. Andrew had a game that night in Arizona—he wouldn’t be coming back home for at least one more week.
Then, why was the front door unlocked?
Even in his current state of apathy he felt the rush of panic running through his veins. His body tensed up in a fight-or-flight response that he had wished he never had to feel again. There was someone in his home. In the small and peaceful sanctuary he had learned to love, to cherish. It wasn’t much, but it was the only safe place he had ever called his and his stomach revolted with the idea of some stranger breaking that atmosphere. Going down the corridor, towards the living room in which him and Andrew had spent countless afternoons sharing bowl after bowl of ice cream, he considered the perspective of finding one of the Moriyamas’ men sitting on their sofa.
He turned down the corner and saw Andrew’s silhouette, having a smoke next to one of the windows. Right then Neil couldn’t remember having ever feel more relieved than in that instant, when his brain put the pieces of the puzzle together and joined that small body frame with the feeling of safety.
He switched the light on and Andrew’s factions became even more recognizable as he turned around to look at him. It only took him a second to realize something wasn’t right.
“What are you looking at, Josten?” he asked, but his voice was almost unrecognizable.
“You’re ill?” said Neil. He was answered with a hard stare.
As Andrew didn’t dignify him with a response he just crossed the room to look for answers of his own. He pressed his hand against the blonde’s forehead, letting out a curse when he felt he was burning out. Andrew remained silent and stared at the hand with his usual aggressive disinterest, but that didn’t stop Neil from leaning forward and pressing his inferior lip against him.
“You’re burning; did they kick you out of training?” The area around Andrew’s nose was all red and puffy and his eyes were watery.
“Or maybe I left, cause I was done with their lame teamwork shit,” he said, raising an eyebrow towards his hairline while he sniffed.
“So they did kick you out.” Neil fished his phone out of his pocket and did a quick Google Search. “CrazyExy just posted a video of you failing in front of the whole court, so I think we can leave it in that you kicked yourself out.”
“I’m gonna kill that damn bimbo for giving you that thing,” Andrew complained with a nasal voice that took the edge out of his statement.
“And now you’re giving out British lingo, you really must be dying on Me,” Neil said mockingly, with one of those smirks Andrew used to say he hated, but that he always wiped out with a fervent kiss.
“You should try getting your head out of your ass, Josten. You may find out there’s a nice view outside.”
“Oh, I thought it was the other way around: your head in my ass. I’m almost sure your tongue was involved.”
“230%, Josten,” Andrew said and he throw a weak punch to Neil’s stomach he deflected easily.
Neil found himself passing on answering him and getting closer instead. Andrew didn’t flinch, so after asking for permission with a questioning look (and evolution of the initial “yes or no” they have achieved after years of being together) he just hugged him, burying his nose in his neck and enjoying the smell of nicotine and something that was unique of Andrew, something that Neil didn’t realize he missed until he had it right there under his nose.
“Stop being so dramatic, I’m not dying.” He complained, but Neil felt the arms around his own waist tightening, pulling him into an even more intimate hug.
“I missed you,” Neil let out against his skin, caressing his neck with his lips.
In response, Andrew buried one of his hands in Neil’s hair and pulled him out of the spot he was kissing to properly smash their lips together. Andrew’s flavor flooded his mouth and Neil let out a moan, while he deepened the kiss. They didn’t go much further than that, they just stayed there, right next to the open window in their living room.
Later on, Andrew already tucked inside the sheets of their bed, Neil watched him falling asleep slowly, helped by the flu medicine they bought in the pharmacy nearby after a brief argument.
“You are my home” Neil said, when Andrew’s breathing deepened.
“Well, you should stop watching me sleep, creepy junkie,” Andrew answered without opening his eyes.