Chapter Text
It started with a simple comment.
They were on their way back from a game, Neil was still buzzing with the adrenaline from their win, and the bus was filled with quiet chatter, a now-familiar backdrop that was comforting. Andrew was tired from the game and, after a quick check for consent, leaned into Neil, half laying on top of him.
Neil was content with warm exhaustion from Exy, a win behind them, and a pliant Andrew in his lap. Things were good. Things had probably never been better than this exact moment.
Neil touched his fingertips to Andrew’s arm in soft askance. Day by day they were getting more comfortable with silent ‘yes or no’s’ but Neil always waited, always checked, just in case. Still verbalized when it was something new or if they were having an off day. But today was a good day, with a heavy Andrew in his lap. Neil didn’t get a no, so he skimmed his fingertips lightly over Andrew’s skin and armbands. Drew nonsensical patterns across him, sticking to his arms, shoulders, and face. Safe spaces.
It was a habit he’d started when they were alone, sometimes too restless to sleep but not wanting to leave Andrew for a run. Keeping his hands busy helped settle his thoughts, and Andrew always provided a point of interest. He liked to touch, liked to be near. Enjoyed the way his fingers trailed over pale skin, could probably watch his fingertips skim over Andrew’s skin for hours. He’d quickly become addicted to the habit, reaching out to touch even when he wasn’t restless.
Andrew always went still and lax whenever Neil indulged in it. He rarely said no when Neil asked for it, sometimes even shifted to accommodate him, which only reinforced the habit. Andrew liked it. Whatever peace Neil found from it, Andrew found some too.
Neil let his fingers wander over small strips of skin, over Andrew’s arm bands. Watched the way his skin dimpled just a little under the touch. Andrew sighed softly and settled heavier against him. Drifted to sleep not long after that. Trusting Neil in his sleep, with his touch, with his safety.
Neil marveled at it, at the growing connection. At the ability to give someone his full trust and have it returned. At Andrew Minyard and the marvel that he was. At being able to touch and find comfort in it, and also provide comfort. It was good, it was amazing— it was everything Neil wanted and never thought he could have.
The others left them alone, used to Neil and Andrew isolating before and after games. The rest of the team talked with each other near the front of the bus, excitement from the game raising their voices. He tuned in and out of their conversation, halfway considering sleep himself, just from sheer contentment. He wouldn’t, not here, not when Andrew was sleeping and trusting Neil to watch over them. But he was happily tired, fingertips slowly dragging over familiar skin.
The comment was barely noticeable, sparked by Allison, who said wistfully, “I need a spa day.”
Renee replied, “That would be nice.”
Dan jumped in, “Yes for spa day. Can we make it a thing?”
Neil heard Nicky’s gasp and smiled softly, circling his fingertips over Andrew’s wrist. He liked hearing the two halves of the team get along; they’d come a long way since Neil first joined. Nicky said, “I know you aren’t leaving me out of a spa day.”
“If you must, I’m sure we can let you tag along,” Allison agreed, faking reluctance.
“Even better. We should have a team spa day.” Dan said, tone lifting in excitement, “Bonding and all that, a day to relax from all out hard work this season!”
“We’re not missing practice for the spa.” Kevin sounded horrified.
Matt huffed a laugh, “You know I’m in for spa days, but if we’re making it a team thing, we may need to pick somewhere else to go.”
Neil silently agreed. Kevin would throw a fit about it. Aaron and Andrew wouldn’t step foot in a spa, and neither would Neil. He didn’t mind his Foxes playing with his hair, painting his nails, or gently talking him into eyeliner because Neil, honey, it’s a crime you don’t wear it more often, look at these eyes!
He was less enthusiastic about letting his guard down around strangers.
A snap of fingers and Nicky said, “I know. Beach trip!”
There were murmurs of interest, which quickly grew to ideas. Excitement caught on quickly.
“We’re not missing practice for the beach either.” Kevin was equally unenthused about his idea.
“Easy, Day.” Allison said, “We can go on a Friday and spend the weekend.”
“Yes. I love it! Team bonding beach trip. Sun and sand and games.” Dan agreed, tone firming in the way she did when she’d settled on an idea and was committed to making it happen. Neil’s fingers stilled, seeing a stretch of sand, thick, dark blood, a car burning and the smell—
He lost track of the conversation for a moment, lost in memories, then just… lost. When he’d come back to himself and their words registered again, they’d already settled on a date. Nicky was teasing Aaron about sandcastles, and Matt was planning food to bring. Even Kevin was reluctantly tossing around ideas.
The Foxes were going to the beach. They had plans for volleyball, sandcastles, and swimming. Sunscreen, bathing suits, a rental house, and hotdogs. They did not mention burning cars, cold and thick, tacky blood, and the grit of sand in their nails as they buried their dead mother in the sand with the taste of bile in their mouth. Alone.
Neil squeezed his eyes shut, thoughts spinning. Swallowed something thick. It wasn’t the beach. It was a beach. That was fine. He could go, and he’d be fine. Neil was always fine. He liked team bonding— they sounded excited, Neil could be excited with them. The Foxes were his family, his new family and they made things better, nicer.
Except the last time his family had been to the beach his mom had been shot on his dads orders, internally bleeding and then externally bleeding and Neil hadn’t been fine, because he didn’t know until it was too late because she didn’t stop, she never stopped no matter how hurt they were even if Neil could have tried to save her and then Neil had to peel her skin off leather and let it burn, buried her deep and left her there and Neil was alone very quickly—
“Neil.”
Andrew’s tone was low and firm, close enough to pull Neil out of his thoughts again and refocus. Andrew had woken and shifted, pulled away from him so they were no longer touching, and Neil hadn’t even noticed. Shit. Andrew’s eyes searched Neil’s in a quiet, focused stare.
He sucked in a deep breath, turned his hands so his palms were up and open. His words came out strangled, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Andrew’s expression sharpened into a glare, “Don’t.” Don’t make excuses. Don’t say sorry, something’s wrong, tell me.
“Bad memory.” Neil said honestly, then paused. If Neil told Andrew he didn’t want to go to the beach, there would be no beach. He was sure of this, took comfort in the idea that if Neil needed that protection, he could ask for it. Trusted that Andrew would back him if it came to that.
But the team sounded excited. Guilt at not wanting to go pulled him further down. Even Aaron had made a comment about inviting Kaitlyn, and sounded interested. His team, his family, wanted this, Neil could manage the beach for a few days. He would be fine. He’d had worse. Maybe he could relearn to like it, like he relearned what home was.
Andrew was glaring at him in silent disapproval and demand. His explanation clearly wasn’t enough.
“The team wants to have a beach weekend.” He said, pulse racing, adrenaline renewed, but for a completely new reason. His stomach turned and he swallowed hard, “It reminded me—” of the time my mother drove for hours while bleeding internally and I didn’t know. Of how I let her die and had to burn her body and leave her on a beach, and she hated beaches—
“Neil.” Andrew interjected again, more insistent.
Focus, Josten, he scolded himself. The Foxes wanted to go, Neil didn’t. Did Andrew? “They seem excited. Do… you like the—uh the beach?”
He frowned at Neil, silently judging the shift in topic, “I don’t care.”
Neil nodded, glanced toward the front of the bus where half the team was planning what food to bring. The other half were considering buying new bathing suits. He could barely hear them over the rush of blood in his ears. Felt dizzy. The beach meant swimming, meant bathing suits and bare skin: scars on display. Meant fires and fear—alone and abandoned. He heard himself say, distantly, “I don’t think I like the. I don’t. Like the beach.”
“Then don’t go.”
Andrew made it so simple. That was nice, that was what he needed. He didn’t have to go. Maybe he could stay back, just once. They’d still have fun without him there; surely, they wouldn’t be too disappointed. They’d understand. Just this once.
He breathed a fraction easier and nodded in agreement: good. He didn’t have to go. That was better. His nerves still rankled against him, adrenaline making him shaky and alert. Andrew had created space between them, clearly awake now, but Neil missed the moment of peace, wanted it back. He shifted restlessly and managed a quiet, “Yes or no?”
Andrew didn’t answer right away, his expression flat and eyes heavy. But eventually he settled on, “Yes.”
Neil buried his hands in Andrew’s, took comfort in their steady grip back. It would be fine. He’d tell Dan to go on without him, that he’d catch their stories afterward. He’d go on other trips with them. It would be fine.
He focused on the warmth of Andrew’s hand in his and ignored the ongoing conversation best he could. Everything would be fine.
He certainly hadn’t forgotten the conversation, but the beach trip became something to avoid. Every time his mind strayed to it, or a teammate brought it up, Neil’s body shut down. Heart spiked, thoughts spiraled, sick. Nightmares came and Neil spent most of his early mornings running off the memories and feeling too aware, too wired to calm down.
Exy and homework became ways to escape it. He avoided the foxes conversations, he threw himself into practice. He sought out Andrew, because he knew Andrew wouldn’t ask him about it, and if he did, Neil could say no, and that would be that.
He survived on pins and needles for two weeks before it was suddenly the Wednesday before the trip and the team’s excitement bled over into nearly every conversation. Neil felt himself winding a little tighter each time the word beach was dropped. His ears rang, teeth jarring, pulse pounding every time it was dropped. Until he was perpetually on edge, teeth clenched, ready to disappear whenever someone came near. Felt like he was back on the run, looking over his shoulder for any sign of danger, and not content to believe it wasn’t there.
He stayed quiet through the plans and conversations he couldn’t escape, only catching half of everything they said anyway. It was hard to focus when it came up, so he just… stopped listening. Stopped everything. He went for long runs or sat silently with Andrew when it became too much. Andrew watched him silently, steady and calm in the storm of Neil’s mind. Told him to stay, Neil, told him calm down, Junkie, told him yes, and when Neil was too flighty to think straight or know what he even wanted, told him no to keep him safe.
It wasn’t good. But Neil was surviving. It worked. He just had to get through this week, and they’d go on their trip and then it would be over. He could do that. He could.
It was fine, it was tolerable all the way up until Dan intentionally pulled him into it, “Neil, hey, Neil, wait a second. You’ve convinced Andrew to come, right? To the beach trip?”
He glanced at her, because, no, he hadn’t even convinced himself to go yet, let alone considered Andrew. He’d been running from the idea for weeks, rabbit once again. Felt the need now to leave, “No.”
“Well, get on it,” Dan said playfully, “Work your magic with him. This is a team event, mandatory for all members.”
His breath caught in a sudden rush of adrenaline. Felt dizzy with it, “…Mandatory?”
“We need time to relax.” Dan said, still upbeat, but a fraction more serious. She meant it, she meant mandatory. His vision went a bit blurry, she sounded like she was talking from far away, he could barely hear her, “We’re doing so much better as a team, but this will be good for us. Like you said, these team events are so important, we should have been doing them all along. Even Kevin’s excited, not that he likes to show it.”
Neil shoved it all down. He couldn’t go, he could not. Everything in him rebelled the very idea of it. “I’m not… I don’t want to go."
“Mandatory, Neil.” She waggled a finger at him teasingly. Neil flinched away from her, tasted blood. She was saying, “You’re going and so is Andrew. No excuses! You’ll love it.”
Neil wasn’t excusing anything, Neil wouldn’t love it. “I don’t—”
“Talk him around,” She said, “It’ll be great, you’ll see!”
He tried again, desperation rising. He said seriously, firmly. “Dan—I don’t want to go.”
“Neil, don’t be ridiculous, it’ll be fun I promise! It’s the beach, its relaxing!” She brushed it off, walking away. The beach the beachthebeach—was not relaxing— “You’ll both have fun! Pack a bag, bring Andrew, its happening.”
Neil’s breath caught and stuck: mandatory, beach, relax. He’d told her he didn’t want to go, and she didn’t listen. She was going to make him go anyway. Stop being ridiculous. Was he being ridiculous? The smell of burning skin and sand against his skin choked him. He had to—get out. He had to go right now.
Neil was out the door and sprinting before he managed another breath.
Andrew found him some indefinite time later when Neil’s legs shook hard enough, he’d had to sit or risk falling. When his breath was a tight pain in his chest and he was too tired to think, let alone panic. He’d sat on the curb and stared at the asphalt until a familiar pair of boots entered his sight.
When Neil raised his head to look, he saw Andrew was near scowling, “What happened.”
“I told Dan.”
“Told her what?”
Neil blinked up at him, realized he lacked context entirely; it had all been locked in Neil’s head. “That I don’t want to go to the— to… On the trip.”
Andrew silently looked down at him and Neil took that as invitation to elaborate. He didn’t want to talk about it. Had just cleared his head over it. But he wanted and needed Andrew to know. Andrew was blunt and honest. He would tell Neil what he thought, even if it was hard to hear. He’d get Neil out of his head and back to reality.
“She said its mandatory.”
“If you don’t want to go. Don’t go.”
Neil exhaled, it was what he wanted to hear. He wanted Andrew to tell him it was okay to miss this. But it didn’t bring him relief. Dan’s words ran through his head. “Mandatory?”
“You don’t want to go.”
“No.”
Andrew’s breath came out sharp, “You need me to tell her that for you?”
Yes, but also, “…No. I, it’s… Mandatory. She— I told her I didn’t want to go. And she said I have to. She’s— Dan. The captain. She asked, I…”
Andrew crouched and met his eyes, staring hard at him, “Your loyalty to the team is sickening.”
Neil said, feeling desperate, “It’s all I have. I have you and I have them. And that’s it.” He couldn't lose them. He couldn't.
Andrew let that sit for a long while. His expression said he wanted to argue, but recognized it was a line for Neil. He extended a hand, “Yes or no?”
Neil took it and allowed Andrew to pull him to his feet. They walked slowly back to the dorms, shoulders brushing. Neil’s legs felt like jell-o; practice was going to hurt tomorrow. Andrew matched his slow pace, lighting a cigarette to share while they walked. The first breath of smoke turn Neils’ stomach, he waived it off for Andrew to finish.
When they got to the dorm, Andrew herded Neil up the stairs and into the shower, not touching, but sharing space together. Neil was more than grateful; it grounded him in the here and now. It was an unspoken promise that Andrew would be there through the trip, just like he was now.
It calmed him enough to tempt sleep. His dreams were awash in memories, soaking his sheets in sweat. His skin crawled like sand stuck to him, the rush of his pulse in his ears sounded like ocean waves.
Neil found himself running again before dawn.
Andrew was awake when he returned. Neil was breathless from the exercise and was pinned by Andrew's heavy gaze, “One word, and I’ll tell her.”
He swallowed hard, torn. Andrew would. He would make sure Neil never set foot on a beach again. But the team pulled him the other way. Mandatory and bubbling excitement. He didn’t want to cause problems, didn’t want to rock the happiness of this trip. “I can try. I can. If I have to, I’ll be fine.”
Andrew exhaled, nodded. But Neil knew the offer still stood. He took a fraction of peace in that. In knowing Andrew would be there with him.
Until the next night, when his dreams were laced with blood and sand and Andrew instead of his mother. Neil threw up, brushed his teeth. And ran.
Two days later Neil was packed into the car, Nicky chattering excitedly at Kevin and Aaron, who both appeared in good spirits and looking forward to the event. Andrew was a silent line of disapproval over the whole thing, and Neil…
Neil was fairly certain he was going to be sick. Everything felt too sharp and too distant all at once—his senses dialed to ten, but his focus unchecked. He had no idea what Nicky was talking about, the car around him was blurry and tight, like it was closing in on him. He’d only drank a few sips of water today, but his stomach churned like he was going to it throw up.
The rumble of the car paired with the knowledge of their destination being the beach swirled until he couldn’t take it any longer. Last time he drove to the beach his mother was bleeding out and he hadn’t known. He could smell the copper—hear her growl out no hospitals, keep your mouth shut. Tell me the rules for survival, tell me! Neil had followed orders, as he always did, and she had died, he had let her die, and now he was going back.
His stomach turned alarmingly and it was so warm in the car. He could smell it, the copper and humidity. Blood and heat. Maybe the air conditioning had gone out, because the air was so thick he couldn’t breathe it in right. He was burning up, like heat from the fire, his skin prickled and he had to get out right now. He wanted—
He wanted Andrew.
“Yes or no.” He ground out in rough Russian, turning his palm over as a hint to what he wanted.
Andrew side eyed him, responded in Russian as well, “Yes.”
Neil slotted his hand into Andrew’s and held on tight—tighter than normal. Andrew shifted in his seat, enough to press their arms together. Offering more than what Neil had asked for. It grounded him a little more, Andrew was warm and steady, not cold and dead to the touch. Neil could see Andrew wasn’t bleeding, was alive and okay and here.
Andrew had stuck close to Neil the last few days. Standoffish to everyone and quick to draw his knives. Any time the trip came up, Andrew shut it down quickly. Herded the team away from Neil with the promise of violence. He hadn’t been settled since Neil told him the trip was mandatory. But then again, neither had Neil.
Neil might feel like he was one second from losing it, but Andrew was a hairs breath from violence. When it got too much for Neil to handle, he’d turn and there was Andrew. Half a foot away. Angry, but not at Neil.
Angry for Neil.
He was grateful, because Andrew meant safe. Meant someone was watching him. He didn’t push Neil to explain, just understood there was something big and wrong about the beach trip. Was ready to shut It down if Neil said so. But knew that triggers were sometimes hard to put into words. Didn’t have to ask. But it was enough to know Neil didn’t want to go, and Dan hadn’t listened.
And now, Andrew still held tight to his hand as they pulled up to the rental and started to unpack the cars. He couldn’t get himself to leave the car he’d desperately wanted out of the whole way here. Outside was the beach, was sand and death and fire. Neil was breathing shallowly, hoping for this to pass. He’d be fine. He had to be fine.
The Foxes unloaded with excitement and Neil forced his limbs to move, to get out of the car. He shivered as he heard the echo of peeling, tacky blood on vinyl. His stomach rolled and he tried to draw a breath to settle the urge to throw up, but the smell of the sea caught in his throat. It caught in a gag.
No—
It tipped the scales, and Neil broke away from Andrew’s hold. He rushed inside the building after Matt to hide from the sound of the waves, the salt on the air. Inside was better—less potent, but it not gone. He kept his eyes down and away from the window view the team was gushing over.
Neil put himself in a corner where the window’s were out of sight. Where he was out of the way. The foxes ran in and out and around. Dropped bags and called preference for rooms. Loud and fast moving, Neil tracking each movement and trying not to let it wind him up more. Foxes were safe; movement meant they were unharmed, not that they were running from threats. He stayed still, backed into his corner. Was certain if he moved he’d start running and wasn’t sure he could stop.
Andrew found him quickly and after a quiet check, threaded his fingers through Neil’s again. Better. He gently squeezed Andrew’s hand, a silent apology for his abrupt exit. It was tolerable in the house, if Neil focused on details, all painted in soft blues and whites. An ocean theme, but fake and decorated. Manageable. It wasn’t sand and waves and heat.
A fraction of his tension eased. Andrew had yet to let go of his hand, and the others were bickering familiarly. Most were out of sight, somewhere deeper in the house. Heard mention of changing and heading outside. It was okay. It was fine, good even. As long as he stayed right here and did not think about anything.
When everyone had gotten changed, save for Andrew and Neil, they piled out of the rental house in groups. Nicky exited with a whoop and a run toward the sand. The others followed at varying levels of excitement. Neil jerkily looked toward the door, which had been accidentally left open in their rush. Or perhaps left open because they thought Neil and Andrew were following shortly. Knew he was expected to join them, or at least close the door, but he couldn’t get his feet to move.
Always running, rabbit, his brain said. Ironic now that his feet were stuck, just like her skin was stuck to the seat and sand stuck to his skin—
Andrew’s hand tugged at his. Neil forced himself to look away from the door, which had been left slightly ajar. Andrew’s face was clouded over, and he said, “Yes or no?”
“Yes.” Neil breathed, because having Andrew close was always good, but especially when Neil forgot he was Neil and not Chris, Chase, Mark, John, Nathaniel. He rocked forward toward Andrew, feet still frozen, but his torso closer.
“No,” Andrew said, clarifying, “Leave the door open: yes or no?”
Neil blinked, heard the crash of the waves. His response came out before he could even think it through, tore from somewhere deep in him. “No.”
Andrew pushed him gently backward into the wall, “Stay.” Neil couldn’t move even if he wanted. Andrew let him go and crossed the room to close the door with a sharp click.
When he returned, he gently pulled at Neil’s hand until he managed to get a step out of him. He pulled and led him further into the house where there were no windows and no doors. Neil nearly managed to smile when he realized it was the bathroom. Andrew locked them in, then wrapped a hand around the back of his neck to draw him close.
Neil shivered, “Can I—”
“Yes,” Andrew murmured softly, and Neil wrapped his arms around him to hold him closer. Good. If Neil closed his eyes, he could almost imagine they were back at the dorms or Columbia. He settled into Andrew, checking his boundaries before letting himself relax into the hold.
The house was quiet, and under Neil’s cheek, he could feel the slow, steady rise and fall of Andrew’s breath. He was fine. No pain, no cars, no blood, his father was gone. His foxes weren’t hurt. And right here, there was no beach. He should be fine. It shouldn’t bother him.
Andrew let him stay there for a long time, but after a while prompted, “Truth… Why don’t you like the beach?”
Neil breathed a shaky sigh into him, the hard-won calm erased as the memories came back in full force. His whole body twitched and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. No. “That’s… too much. Not here. Later.”
Later, when he wasn’t a hundred feet from it. When her memory wasn’t so strong. When Neil felt real again.
“Tell me whats happening.” Andrew asked instead.
Neil struggled with putting it into words, “It’s like I’m not real. But the memories are and they’re…” Overwhelming, “All I am right now.”
“You’re Neil Josten.”
Neil Josten. He nodded, forehead rubbing against Andrew’s chest, “Neil. And Andrew.”
“Yes. Don’t run, Neil.”
“I’m here.” He said, swallowing hard, because that felt like a lie, “I’m. Physically here.”
Andrew’s hand clamped over the back of Neil’s neck, fingers digging in. It helped, familiar and firm and comforting. “Tell me.”
“S’like.” Neil paused, swallowed hard, “Like I’ve been running for hours. I feel… tired. Shaky. Numb. My hearts…fast.”
Fear, panic, Neil knew it well enough. Sacred of a beach trip. Silly. His breath hitched and he pressed harder into Andrew, whose hand tightened around his neck.
“Calm down.”
He was trying. The flash of irritation cut through the fear, and he exhaled sharply. He felt like he was on a tight-rope, careful balance of thinking but not.
“What do you need?”
To leave. To never have come. He should have accepted Andrew’s offer and told Dan no. He should have taken his mom to a hospital, he should have given her a proper burial and not a burnt car and buried bones on a beach—
“Neil.”
“I— don’t know.” It came out gasping. He took a long breath in and held it for a moment before exhaling. He had to get himself together.
Andrew pulled away and Neil let him move, never going to be the one to force him to stay if he didn’t want contact. He wanted to cling with an odd desperation, but Neil had been clinging to Andrew for a long time now, it was fair he wanted space. “Drew?”
“Bee.” He commented, hand still on the back of Neil’s neck, a comforting squeeze. “I can call her. She may have suggestions to help, yes or no?”
Neil considered, because he didn’t like therapists… But Andrew trusted her, and Neil was on his last leg. He couldn’t do this—not for two days, not for two more hours. Suddenly not for a moment longer. He whispered a soft, “Yes.”
“My phone’s packed. I’ll have to leave to call her.” Andrew stood, pinning Neil with a firm look, “Don’t run.”
“Okay.” He said, making it the promise that it was. He wouldn’t run, but without Andrew he felt restless and jittery. He stood, paced the two steps the bathroom allowed. Now that he was alone, he noticed how small it was; the walls pressed in on him. Neil huffed a breath, caught a flash of his reflection— blue eyes and a wicked, cruel smile— and fled to the hall to escape it. Less claustrophobic, no reflection. Still no windows. Tolerable. He could see when Andrew was coming back. Better.
Andrew had only been gone a minute or so when Matt came in. He found Neil hovering in the hallway and grinned at him. “Hey, man there you are! Come on outside. We’re getting food around if you and Andrew are hungry?”
The thought of food was nauseating, his stomach pitched alarmingly and he swallowed hard. “No. Andrew might.”
“Where is he?”
Should be back soon. Time had gone weird on him, he didn’t really know how long he’d been gone, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. “…On a phone call.”
Matt made a face, “Who’s he calling?”
Neil shrugged, because he didn’t think he’s calling Bee to ask for tips to help me not panic would fly.
“Alright,” Matt shrugged it off, filled with good humor and happiness, “Don’t hide inside all day man, come on, we got a surprise for you.”
Neil didn’t want a surprise, he was already far too keyed up to function. He wanted predictable and steady. He wanted the court and his dorm, and a rooftop. He wanted home and to not be here. He wanted to be far far far from the beach.
Matt misread his hesitation, lowering his voice, “It’s just the team, Neil. We don’t mind if you keep your long sleeves on. We just want you to be comfortable and have fun.”
Neil wanted to leave. Would be comfortable back at court. His scars were, for once, the least of his concerns. He glanced around the hall—Andrew was still gone. How long?
“I want to stay inside.”
“Naw, come on, man, it’ll be fun!” Matt insisted, “Give it a try at least. I think the girls will come drag you out if you don’t come willingly.”
His heart raced, panic thready. No, don’t drag him out there. His muscles tensed, prepped for flight, except Andrew’s don’t run stilled him. What— He took a step backward, hesitated on the threshold of the bathroom—too small, no doors, no escape there. Trapped.
“Matt.” He said seriously; expressing things he wanted or needed never came easy, but he found the will to do it here. “I don’t want to go outside. I don’t like the— beach.”
“It’s alright, man.” Matt agreed, “It’s so chill, its really isolated. There’s nobody else around, just us. And I bet Andrew will follow you out, even if he’s allergic to the sun. Just come check out our surprise and if it’s still not your thing, well, we’ll try and convince Nicky and Dan to leave you be.”
Neil shuddered, took another half a step back, his shoulders hit the wall. Nowhere to retreat. “Matt…”
Matt looped an arm around his shoulder and Neil’s skin crawled, feeling the sticky, tacky blood and gritty sand from his mother’s death. He’d had to loop her arm over his shoulder to get her out of the car. His vision blurred, thoughts dropping away.
“Come eat and then we’ll leave you be. Andrew can catch up.” He assured, steering Neil toward the door.
Neil wasn’t supposed to argue with an order; survival depends on you keeping your mouth shut and doing what I say, you hear me? Neil heard her. He dropped back into familiar, protective habits. Let himself be steered without protest, feet moving automatically. Ducked his head like he’d been taught, because usually an arm over his shoulder was a familiar tactic and always meant: we’re moving fast, don’t argue with me, just move. Don’t get caught, blend in. Mind the cameras.
He didn’t try to duck out of the hold, because that usually meant a beating or a struggle at least, and if they were moving fast they couldn’t afford for him to call attention their way.
He didn’t stop despite the blood rushing in his ears and pounding heart. Something must be wrong, something must be very wrong. But he couldn’t get himself to stop because following orders is all you need to do. You shut up and follow orders and I won’t have to be cruel to you. Do as your told or you won’t survive Abram.
Survive. Hide your face. Keep moving. Follow orders.
He was led to a door, and that shook him. He blinked, one moment in the hall, the next staring at the messy line of sand at the doorway. Neil froze in his tracks despite his instincts to follow. He didn’t want to go out there. He could feel the heat, the salt, the sand, the blood. That was worse than a punishment. It was worse than a beating. He’d take that over the sand.
Matt gave Neil a hesitant smile when Neil stopped at the threshold, “Alright, man?”
No.
“I’m fine.” You can’t afford to be sick or hurt, I don’t care, his moms voice was clear in his head you’re fine until I say otherwise. “I’m fine.”
Matt looked skeptical, “Okay. Come on then.”
He risked a glance back—no Andrew. His nails dug into his palms. He wasn’t usually so dependent, but right now he felt one light breeze from being blown over. Wanted Andrew at his back. Couldn’t get himself to explain to Matt why he didn’t want to do this, not when he’d been shot down already. Not when his thoughts were gone—replaced with pure instinct that said no no no, obey or suffer.
He managed a step outside, felt the sand crunch and shift under his foot and the world shivered out of focus—black. It came back in sharp and he drowned in adrenaline as Matt grinned at him, “There! Not so bad right? Come on.”
So bad. Bad bad bad—
Neil followed him blindly, eyes locked on the sand. It was a different color than the other beach, light and fine sand here, but coarse and darker there. It was brighter, daylight. But it didn’t matter—it moved the same, it was gritty and—He remembered the feeling of digging through the grains, a hole to bury the evidence, sand cold and wet the further down he dug, hands shaking.
It felt the same underfoot, the sound it made when it shifted under his steps was the same, the sound of the wave in his ears drowned out the rest of the noise. Everything except the echo of memories in his head. Memories of blood and leather, of smoke and heat. Dead she was dead and Neil was left to make decisions and the only thing he had was gas and a lighter. Gagging as he pulled her body—the sound it made when it hit the bottom of the hole he’d dug.
“Neilio!” Nicky called in excitement, bounding close. Neil drug his eyes up off the sand, looked at Nicky’s grin. Saw blood over his face—smeared— just like hers. He looked back down, the sight of sand blurring his vision as it narrowed to a pinpoint. He felt ice cold despite the sun, hands and feet numb. “Finally! Let Andrew be sullen inside, and check out what we built.”
Neil was a lie, Neil was going to pass out, he was going to—his eyes tracked the sweep of Nicky’s arm, flinching back from the motion— I’m only cruel when you don’t listen— and there was a flash of light and heat flickering in his vision. He looked up from the sand and saw the Foxes—familiar— they were speaking, but their words were unknown sounds to him. It was like he was underwater, everything else ceased to exist.
His focus was on the fire—a bonfire.
Fire—heat and oil, blood popping and crackling and his mom would never ever leave the beach. He burned her body and buried the remains—
The building panic reached a peak and surged through him. No no—not again. It was too much, the sand, and waves, and fire with his family— Everything else shut down, the bubbling urge to flee overrode everything. Run, Abram, run.
He skittered backward, intent to get as far away from blood and fire and death as he could get, but he couldn’t feel his legs and the sand shifted oddly underneath him. He slipped and hit the ground on all fours before he even took a full step.
No, no, nonono— Sand under his nails, under his hands, caked on from the tacky blood, the fire at his back crackling, he was burying her all over again as the car burned. Can’t run from this—you have to watch to make sure it all burns. Watch. Stay. No evidence, Abram. Inspect the remains, you have to. Bury her deep Abram, so they can’t track you. You have to watch, you have to bury her deep, you have to burn her. He tried to breath in air, but only managed a wheeze that tasted like cooked meat, his mother was burning and she smelled like—
He twisted as his stomach heaved and he gagged; would have thrown up if he’d eaten anything at all today. The urge to puke stayed and he swallowed hard around it. He’d thrown up then too, had to choke it down and keep going, keep digging. Smoke thick in his lungs, the heat of the fire on his face.
The world spun alarmingly—his hands dug into sand, just like he dug her grave and buried what remained of her under the cold, shifting grains. It had clung to him for days—gritty under his nails, stuck on dried blood, the smell of burning meat on his clothes.
Neil’s breath caught, stuck, and the world shivered away. He was lost to the horror of his memories, drowning in sand and smoke.