Work Text:
“See ya, Josten!” Neil’s classmate yells at a volume way too loud for the time of night.
Neil hides a wince. They’re lucky that this is a college campus. They’re probably even luckier that they’re right in front of the frat houses, because no one else would be awake at almost midnight and not care about being disturbed, seeing as from what Neil hears, the frats and sororities literally party every day of the week.
But, well, these are the frat houses, and Neil literally watches another person walk out of a noisy house while his classmate walks in.
Sighing, Neil waves a goodbye, and starts to head back to Fox Tower.
He’s tired. Or at least, he thinks he is. It’s hard to tell when feeling like death ran him over with a train is all he’s felt like for the past few days. Because of course, even after surviving the last nine months, he had to catch the flu right before finals.
And because Neil’s been sick with the flu, he’s had to put off everything that didn’t require stepping outside of the dorm until his fever broke—Andrew’s, Kevin’s, and Abby’s orders. Neil didn’t fight them, but he does blame them for the fact that he was benched during the last off-season game before finals came to kill him a second time.
But—finals week starts in less than two days, and Neil’s just finished a huge project with his classmates that’s due in three, and right now, Neil would like nothing more than to get back to his dorm and find Andrew before going to sleep.
“Did Kettler just call you Josten?”
Neil jumps at the sudden voice, blinking in bewilderment when he sees the same person who walked out of his classmate’s frat standing before him. And Neil—his heart lurching in his chest uncomfortably—thinks that Andrew would kill him if he knew that someone had gotten the jump on Neil-fucking-Josten.
The worst part is that Neil had been practically looking at the guy the entire time he’d approached. He’d just been so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even register —
Okay, yeah. Neil’s a dumbass. At least, he definitely feels like one.
“Neil Josten?” the guy asks, still waiting for Neil’s answer. He’s slurring his words a bit. Probably drunk. Eyes glazed, cheeks red, barely standing—definitely drunk. “On the exy team?”
Neil’s face goes blank. He hates hates hates that people know him just as much as he loves having an actual identity and name that he can call his own. It’s a constant contradiction that leaves him with far too many anxiety-burning late-night practices, leaves him with far too many memories of run, don’t look back, keep going , and panic-fueled nightmares.
“Yes,” Neil says, cutting off his own thoughts by force to give the stranger a blank stare. “Did you need something?”
“Think you can help me?”
Neil blinks. He has no idea where this is going. “With what?”
“My car,” the guy grumbles. “Need to get to my car. But can’t remember where the parking lot is. Can you take me?”
With how drunk the person in front of Neil is, Neil doesn’t think that he’d even be able to recognize which car is his. And god forbid he wants to drive it.
Then again, it really isn’t Neil’s problem what he does if Neil says yes and takes him to the parking lot. Far as Neil is concerned, the guy can go off and do whatever the heck he wants. Besides, it’ll be a lot less energy wasted if Neil just walks him to the parking lot and then walks back to Fox Tower. It’s on the way, and Neil feels too awful to try and fight this guy over something like this.
(Neil tries to ignore the voice in his head that tells him this is a bad idea. He’ll be fine.)
“Sure,” Neil says, turning in the direction of the parking lot. “Follow me.”
They totter along, Neil walking briskly enough that he doesn’t have to talk to the guy swaying side to side behind him. He doesn’t have the energy to be any more social than he already has been today.
Honestly, he just wants to curl up in a bean bag chair and sleep .
“Here we are,” Neil says, stopping at the entrance to the frat and sorority’s combined parking lot. Drunk frat guy comes to stand next to him. Neil asks, more out of courtesy than anything, “You gonna be okay from here?”
He desperately wishes for the guy to say yes.
“Yeah,” the guy says, his voice going quiet and intense in a way that has Neil stiffening. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”
In the end, Neil’s too slow to dodge the blow to the head, and as his body falls limp and his world goes dark, Neil only has enough to think, Andrew is going to kill me, before he passes out.
“Wake up, you stupid fuck.”
“The only stupid fuck here is you, asshole,” Neil spits out before his eyes are even open.
If Andrew wasn’t going to kill him before, he definitely will now, because Neil’s opening his big mouth again and mouthing off to the person who is literally standing above him with a fucking crowbar and a twisted, half-feral snarl on his face.
Maybe Kevin will join in on the killing. Neil’s pretty sure he has a concussion. And he’s pretty sure that concussion equals “no playing exy.”
Neil has a lot to look forward to if he gets out of this one.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Neil laughs humorlessly. “Make me.”
Unfortunately, drunk frat guy, who’s now apparently a lot more sober than before, takes Neil up on his taunt and kicks him in the stomach. Hard. Neil chokes on a breath as another kick makes its mark on his ribcage. One last kick is to his side, and Neil flinches, instinctively curling up to cover his injured torso.
Neil gets the feeling that this guy is angry at him. The sad part is that Neil doesn’t even know what for .
“I hate you,” is spat at Neil with nothing but venom, and Neil pushes aside the memory of Andrew’s eyes as he says similar words with a completely opposite meaning. Because, Neil doesn’t think this guy is going to ask his consent to beat him up or kiss him.
The answer to both would be no, a part of Neil’s brain thinks with fuzzy satisfaction.
“Feeling’s mutual,” Neil eventually wheezes out. “Now that we got that out of the way, you can fuck right off.”
“Do you even know what you cost me?” frat guy hisses, crouching down to grip a hand in Neil’s hair and pull his face off the asphalt. Neil’s forced to look into the guy’s raging black eyes in the dim light of the parking lot’s lamps high above them. Frat guy pushes his face way too close. “You cost me everything.”
“Don’t touch me,” Neil growls back in defiance.
He gets dropped back to the ground.
Frat guy steps back, and Neil should probably get up, but—and he realizes this with panic rising in his throat—he’s not actually sure that he can. He doesn’t have anything to defend himself with. Just his backpack lying discarded on its side underneath one of the cars he’s lying between. And it’s out of his reach, anyways.
So, he stays on the ground and glares up at his perpetrator. “What do you want? ”
“It was almost a sure shot that Palmetto would win the last game,” the guy sneers. “At least, it was until their star striker sat out and ruined the Foxes chances.”
Neil coughs, more out of bewilderment than breathlessness. “ That’s what this is about? An exy match?”
“I had everything riding on that match!”
“Not my fault.”
“You sat out!”
“And now I wish I had done it on purpose, just so I could personally say, fuck you.”
That last one earns him a crowbar to an arm. Probably not worth it, considering Neil cries out as pain radiates from his wrist to his shoulder after the hit.
“I’m going to have fun with this,” the frat guy hisses, white-knuckled fists tightening on the crowbar. “I’m going to have lots of fun with this.”
Neil has a feeling that this is going to be more like hell than fun. But he doesn’t say anything. He just gathers what strength he has left, grits his teeth, and glares defiantly at the man who’s probably about to smash his skull in.
The guy’s eyes gleam with a mix of anger and glee. Neil refuses to close his eyes. And the crowbar comes down.
Andrew is going to kill him.
It’s the first coherent thought Neil manages while lying on the asphalt, now alone, and beat to hell and back. Frat guy is gone. And he’s sure that Andrew will kill Neil for this.
But not before he goes on a witch hunt for the guy who’d almost killed Neil before Andrew could give his go at it.
Still, Neil’s got a few hours left to live until Andrew finds out about this.
Hours because—well. There’s no way he’s getting back to the dorm like this. He doesn’t think he can push himself up to lean against the car tire behind him, let alone stand up and walk to Fox Tower five minutes up the hill.
Still, considering it’s still somewhat chilly outside at night, lying in a parking lot all night probably shouldn’t be something that Neil should do. Even if his first instinct is to find enough strength to gather himself up and make his way to the nearest safe place, it’s just not something he can realistically do right now.
He should call Andrew.
There’s a phone in his pocket and a promise to keep it with him at all times between him and Andrew and Coach Wymack. All he’d have to do is reach into his pocket and pull out the dumb thing. Way less energy than walking back to his dorm.
He should call Andrew.
He calls Aaron.
Straight to voicemail.
He calls Aaron again.
Voicemail.
Neil swallows and calls Matt.
Matt picks up on the second ring.
“Hey, buddy!” comes Matt’s loud, overjoyed greeting. There are other voices in the room, too low for Neil to make out. “What’s up? Did you want to join the party?”
That’s right. Matt, Dan, Renee, Allison, and Nicky were going to have a movie night tonight. Neil had declined because of the project with his classmate that needed to be done tonight, before Neil combusted with stress. Andrew had just declined.
God, Neil hopes Nicky didn’t try to cajole Andrew into going after all.
“Who’s there?” Neil asks, his voice hoarse.
His lips crack open with fresh blood and Neil has to turn his head to keep it from dripping into his mouth. He does not want to start choking while he’s on the phone with Matt. The third year would end up looking like a lost puppy, or something.
“Oh, uh, everyone but you, Andrew, and Aaron.” Matt sounds bemused.
“Can—Can you do me a favor?” Neil asks, trying his best to keep his voice steady when his lungs feel like they’re caving in.
“Anything,” is Matt’s immediate response.
“This is probably unfair to you, but can you not tell anyone else what I’m about to tell you?”
Neil can almost see Matt’s face fall. “ Neil— ”
“I’ll—” Neil grits his teeth and wheezes out a somewhat steadying breath. “I promise I’ll tell them later. But can you—please, Matt. I—I really need your help.”
And fuck, does he hate to admit it. He tamps down on the urge to slam the phone shut and deal with his problems by himself, because if he does that, there’s a good chance he’ll die of shock and blood loss, and then Andrew really will kill him. Or—he’ll kill someone .
And Neil, really, really doesn’t want to die like this. He’s too stubborn to die like this.
He just needs Matt’s help.
“ Okay, ” Matt says. There’s panic in his voice, but the background voices get softer, until they’re completely gone. “ Okay, what’s wrong? What do you need me to do? ”
“I need—”
Neil’s body chooses that moment to fuck him over. He inhales just a tiny bit too deep and pain lances through his chest. He chokes off his words and breathes out nothing but a pained wheeze. It takes several moments for him to regain enough breath and coherency to even listen to Matt’s panicked voice on the other end of the line, let alone reply to it.
“ Neil, I swear on Andrew’s Maserati that I will get Dan to call Coach and then go find Andrew if you don’t respond in the next— ”
“Fine,” Neil pants. “I’m fine.”
Matt’s laugh is tinged with disbelief. “ What the hell .”
But Neil doesn’t have time for this. “Aaron.”
That stops Matt short. “ What? ”
“Need…Aaron,” Neil breathes. “Frat parking lot.”
“ Neil, what happened? ”
“Matt,” Neil says, his eyelids fluttering shut. He can feel himself shutting down. If Matt doesn’t get Aaron in the next few minutes, this will not end well.
Or—it will end worse , because he doesn’t think that this situation has a good ending whatsoever.
“ Hey, I’ll be right back!” Matt calls out, probably not to Neil. There’s a chorus of voices, but Matt doesn’t answer any of them before they’re cut off. Neil waits while Matt jogs down the hallway and unlocks the door to his and Aaron’s room.
“ Aaron ,” Matt sighs out in relief. “ Neil, you’re on speaker. ”
“Andrew’s not there, right?” Neil asks.
It’s a precaution. He thinks he can admit that on top of not wanting Andrew to kill anyone, he also just doesn’t want Andrew to have to see him physically falling apart again. Not after Evermore. And definitely not after Baltimore.
“ No ,” Matt says. “ But I honestly think he probably should be. ”
“Don’t,” Neil says as sharply as he can with the breath left in his lungs. “He won’t let anyone touch me, and honestly, I probably needed Aaron five minutes ago.”
“ Neil? ”
Neil blinks in bewilderment. “Katelyn?”
“ Are you okay?”
“I’m—”
“ Oh my God, if you say you’re fine, ” Aaron grumbles, “ I will punch you, Andrew or no Andrew.”
“Noted,” Neil says, far too lightly. “But, turns out, someone beat you to the punch. Literally.”
There’s silence for a few seconds and then—
“ He’s hurt .” Matt.
Aaron scoffs. “ Yeah, no fucking duh, dipshit. Why the hell do you need me? Call a fucking ambulance.”
“Don’t need you,” Neil manages to say. He’s getting dizzy. “Matt, just bring Katelyn with you?”
Aaron’s tone is biting. “ Why the hell would— ”
“ I’m going ,” Katelyn says, cutting Aaron off.
“ What— ”
“ Okay ,” Matt says. Neil hears keys jingling. “ He’s just down the hill. Frat parking lot. ”
“ Neil ,” Katelyn says, her voice a lot clearer than it was before. She must have taken it off speakerphone. Her voice is all business, though he can hear the concern behind every word as she says, “ All three of us are on our way. Can you tell me your worst injuries?”
“Ribs,” Neil says. “Maybe lungs? And bleeding.”
“ From where?”
“Everywhere,” Neil laughs, barely enough breath to make a sound. “Guy had a crowbar. Wasn’t afraid to use it.”
“ Oh my—”
“Don’t,” Neil cuts in again, voice sharp and demanding. He thinks he almost sounds like Andrew a little bit. Maybe he’s rubbing off on Neil. “How long?”
“ About thirty seconds. We’re almost there. ”
“Good,” Neil says, his voice starting to slur. He can hear Katelyn say something else, but it’s lost in the haze settling over his brain. He forces one last thing out. “Between the white Kia and black Chevy.”
And then the darkness takes over, and Neil lets go.
It’s okay. Help is coming.
“Neil,” Katelyn’s voice calls out, this time not over a tinny phone speaker and instead somewhere just to the right of him. “Neil, can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes.”
“Shouldn’t you be taking care of the bleeding?” Matt.
“He’s not bleeding enough to make him pass out from blood loss from what I can see,” Aaron snaps from Neil’s otherside. “Which means he passed out from something else.”
“We need him awake before we move him,” Katelyn chimes in.
Neil takes a second to register that, and then peels his eyelids open. And, hell does it hurt. Everything hurts. Every single nerve in his body is on fire and if Neil wasn’t as stubborn as Kevin is on anything exy-related, he’d slam his eyes shut and decide to pass out again.
Katelyn’s hovering above him, relief shining in her eyes. “Thank God.”
Aaron’s in his face a moment later, shining his phone's flashlight in Neil’s eyes. “Are you dizzy or nauseous?”
“Dizzy,” Neil slurs out, blinking against the sudden brightness. “Head hurts. I think the son of a bitch knocked me out with the crowbar.”
The light goes away and Aaron’s fingers probe at his head the best they can while Neil’s still lying on the asphalt. Neil’s eyes clench shut when Aaron brushes past a bump on his head.
“Fuck you,” Neil grits out.
“Fuck you!” Aaron snarls back, pulling his hand away. “And fuck your fucking concussion, too!”
“Aaron,” Katelyn snaps.
Aaron’s mouth shuts, and Neil thinks that he would kill for a superpower that shuts Aaron Fucking Minyard up for more than two seconds.
Hazel eyes snap down to meet Neil’s. “Fuck you, Josten.”
Ah. Oops. He might have said that thought out loud.
“Matt,” Katelyn says, crouching down by Neil’s legs. “Help me take his shoes off.”
“Can you move your toes?” Aaron asks once Katelyn and Matt have gotten both sneakers off. Neil painstakingly moves all ten of his toes. Aaron watches. “Well, we can probably move you now.”
“Thank goodness,” Matt sighs.
He runs out of Neil’s line of sight for a second and returns with two blankets. As soon as Katelyn and Aaron help Neil into a sitting position, Matt’s draping both over his shoulders and bundling him up.
Neil loses some time, then, his eyes dragging closed of their own accord, and when he opens them again, he’s curled up in the passenger seat of Matt’s truck, Katelyn and Aaron in the backseat, arguing with Matt in the front.
They’re still in the parking lot, but Neil doesn’t mind as much since he’s not shivering on the cold asphalt.
Also, he’s concussed and it’s hard to focus, and he’d love to just pass out and sleep for the next week.
“He said he doesn’t want to involve Andrew,” Matt says, sounding like he’s said it for the millionth time. “What Neil wants counts for something.”
“I get what you’re saying, Matt,” Katelyn says, her voice gentle, but with a stern tone underneath that has Neil thinking she’s a weird mixture of Renee and Dan at first. “But there are too many open wounds to leave him like this. He needs to shower and disinfect those cuts.”
“Katelyn’s right,” Aaron cuts in. “Fuck what Josten thinks anyways. It’s not like any of us can stop Andrew from finding out.”
“Aaron—” Matt sighs out.
“Abby’s or the dorm,” Aaron sneers. “Those are your two options. Either way, Andrew finds out.”
“Coach,” Neil mumbles. His eyes slide closed, but the memory of a little over a year ago, his body and mind falling apart on him as he tells Coach Wymack to help me . And Coach’s response, let me . It warms Neil up in a way that blankets don’t quite manage.
When Neil is falling apart, he has two options: Andrew or Coach Wymack.
Neil’s not ready to let Andrew deal with Neil like this again, so Neil chooses the only other option available to him.
“Take me to Coach’s apartment,” Neil says, opening his eyes a little to glance over at Matt.
Matt’s already turning the key and peeling out of the parking lot before Aaron or Katelyn can argue.
Neil sighs, sinking deeper into the blankets.
Somehow, Neil is in front of Coach Wymack’s open apartment door, still swaddled in the blankets and somehow in Matt’s arms.
Neil blinks at Wymack and Wymack blinks back.
“Jesus Christ,” Wymack sighs. “Why is it always you, Josten?”
Neil doesn’t think that that’s supposed to be an actual question, but he answers it anyways, probably sounding like a twelve-year-old when he says with just a trace of annoyance, “It’s not always me. Besides, it’s not even my fault this time.”
“Yeah?” Wymack says, sounding skeptical as Matt lays Neil down on the rock hard couch. “And whose fault is it?”
Neil’s really tempted to spit out Kevin because yes, Kevin had been the first one to look at Neil and bench him, and blaming Andrew would do as much good as blaming a teddy bear for a rainy day.
Instead, he vaguely explains, “Some asshole decided that it was my fault we lost yesterday’s game and beat me up with a crowbar for it.”
Katelyn’s eyes widen. “Why would he blame—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Neil says. It’s automatic. Matt flicks him on the forehead. Neil rolls his eyes and tries again, “I mean, I was sick. The guy was just angry he lost money and took it out on an easy target.”
“This is fun to talk about,” interrupts Aaron from where he’s settled cross-armed against the wall. “But Josten needs a shower.”
Wymack raises an eyebrow at Aaron. Then he swings his gaze to meet Neil’s with a challenge. “Can Josten stay standing long enough to shower?”
“I’m fine.”
Wymack’s eyes harden. “One more time, Neil, and I will call Andrew.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“And I’d rather you weren’t beaten to hell and back again, but look at where we are.”
Matt’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket. Panicked, he says, “It’s Dan.”
Neil blinks. “Oh. The party.”
“I’m—I should go, right?” Matt asks, eyeing Neil’s injuries, and then eyeing the other people in the room. Then he turns back to Neil to meet his eyes. He doesn’t look like he wants to go, despite his words. “Unless you need me here? I can stay here, Neil, no problem. I’ll text Dan saying that you—I don’t know, got lost jogging or whatever.”
“Dan also knows I’m sick,” Neil says, narrowing his eyes. “Do you want Dan to kill me on top of Andrew and Kevin?”
Aaron snorts. Neil ignores him.
“Matt, go back to the dorm,” Wymack sighs, running a hand over his tired face. “And take Katelyn back to her dorm, too. Aaron, you stay here.”
Aaron’s face twists in anger, but before he can sneer out a single word, Katelyn puts a hand on his arm, and he immediately deflates. The Katelyn superpower, Neil thinks again.
Katelyn turns towards him. “Be a good patient for Aaron,” she tells him. “And call Andrew.”
Neil sighs but he nods, even when Aaron gives him a disgruntled look.
There’s a whirlwind of noise and goodbyes for the next few minutes that Neil barely hangs onto, and then, it’s just him, Wymack, and Aaron.
Wymack sits down on the coffee table in front of the couch. He says seriously, “Neil.”
Neil knows what Wymack wants him to do, but— “I don’t want to.”
“And I don’t want him breaking down my door.”
“You know he’d pick the lock.”
“ Neil.”
Neil closes his eyes against his own frustration. His head’s fuzzy and every part of his body hurts and maybe he’s concussed to hell and back, because he knows he should call Andrew. He knows that otherwise, Andrew will go ballistic over the fact that Neil has yet to come back to the dorm at near one in the morning when he’d promise he’d be back by midnight.
But there’s a war inside of his concussed brain—one side clamoring for the need of Andrew’s hand cupping the back of his neck, and the other demanding Andrew stay away from him and his bad luck that constantly seems to get both of them hurt.
“Fine,” Neil says, quiet enough that it’s barely above a whisper. Both Wymack and Aaron hear it fine, though.
“You’re an idiot,” Aaron says. Then he pulls out his phone and walks out of the room and into the kitchen.
Wymack watches Aaron go. And then he turns back to Neil and looks him over again. “It’s none of my business, and honestly I don’t really care to know about the why. Above my paygrade,” he says, “but you may want to think of how you’re going to tell Andrew that you called his brother instead of him.”
And with that, Wymack leaves Neil to sulk on the couch.
Andrew’s there within fifteen minutes.
And within those fifteen minutes, Neil—extremely frustrated and annoyed (and relieved) that they’d called Andrew—lets his temper get away from him far too easily. Neither Wymack nor Aaron are able to get close enough to check on his wounds after the first try.
Neil’s stubborn enough to bullhead his way past the symptoms of his own concussion. He has years of experience pretending he’s fine, so ignores the dizziness and the pounding in his head, pretends he’s more coherent than he actually is while he sulks like a child on the couch for no reason.
“Where is he.”
Andrew.
Wymack barely says, “The couch,” before Andrew comes around the corner, hazel eyes flashing with anger.
Andrew doesn’t say anything when he stops in front of Neil, but Neil—his whole entire body relieving itself of tension and leaving him wrung out, sick, and just plain tired —asks Andrew, “Will you help me shower?”
Andrew helps him to his feet without a word. Neil lets himself be tugged along by Andrew—and Wymack, because Neil can barely stand up straight, let alone walk—into the bathroom and sat on the rim of the tub.
“I’ll get you some towels and extra clothes,” Wymack says before he shuts the bathroom door and leaves the two of them alone.
“I’m sorry,” Neil says, staring hard at the tile beneath his dirty socks.
“You’re an idiot,” Andrew tells him, so similar yet so different to his twin. His hands hover above the fabric of Neil’s ruined shirt. “Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
Andrew helps Neil completely undress. Neil has to sit on the floor while Andrew washes his cuts, and Neil’s brain has gone blank with sheer exhaustion. Physical and emotional.
Ten minutes pass without a word more said between them. There’s a knock on the door, a towel drying him off, clothes tugged over his scarred body, and then Neil is back on the couch, curled up in the corner while Andrew watches him from the opposite end.
It’s only then that Aaron crouches down in front of Neil with a first aid kit. “I need to check for internal bleeding. Body and head.”
He sounds as tired as Neil feels. Neil refuses to feel guilty for dragging him into this, though. Not when Aaron’s pre-med and a little bit less of an asshole than he used to be.
“Okay,” Neil says.
He struggles to lift up his shirt, but no one helps him, and Aaron is clinical and detached as he checks whether Neil is going to die like his mother, checking Neil’s ribs, lungs, and all of his other organs by poking and making Neil breathe in and out a lot.
“Everything seems okay,” Aaron says cautiously. There’s an uncertain look in his eyes as he looks from Andrew to Neil and back again.
“What.” Andrew’s face is blank and his voice is flat. He doesn’t look like he’s willing to wait patiently for Aaron to get over whatever self-conscious thoughts are plaguing him.
“I think his ribs are cracked,” Aaron admits, biting down softly on his lip. “If not outright broken.”
Andrew twitches. Neil exhales and closes his eyes. “Not bruised?” he asks.
“At the very least, one of them’s cracked,” Aaron says. “I—Andrew, they could be broken. And that can lead to a lot of complications I can’t deal with on my own. He probably needs x-rays and a hospital.”
When Neil opens his eyes again, Andrew’s staring at the ceiling and Aaron’s staring at Andrew. When neither speaks again, Neil asks, “I’ve had cracked ribs before. I’ll be fine.”
“Shut up,” Andrew snarls out at the same time Aaron does. Aaron continues, this time much more self-assured in all his pissed off glory, “If you feel any pressure on your lungs, you go to a hospital.”
“I’m—”
“Shut up, Junkie,” Andrew says with a lot more anger this time. He barely turns his head enough to turn his attention to his twin. “I’ll take him if he gets worse.”
Aaron nods at that, looking somewhat relieved. “Now let me see your head.”
The rest of Aaron’s exam is a blur. Neil’s pretty sure he falls asleep in the middle of it, because the next thing he knows, he’s curled up on the couch, painkillers and a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him. Andrew’s thigh is just inches away from his head.
“You’re an idiot,” Andrew tells him again once he notices Neil’s awake. He helps Neil take the painkillers before he asks, “Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
Neil’s head is moved to Andrew’s lap.
“I’m sorry,” Neil says again, because apparently they’re repeating things, and Neil is sorry that he kept Andrew out of the loop.
“Why.”
“Didn’t call you.”
“Why.”
“Don’t know.”
Neil hears Andrew’s teeth clack. “Bullshit.”
“It’s the truth,” Neil says, closing his eyes and letting Andrew rest a hand in his hair. “I wasn’t thinking rationally. I don’t know.”
“You do,” Andrew insists. “Tell me.”
There’s quiet for a long time. Neil stews in his jumbled thoughts and Andrew lets him. Almost five minutes pass before either of them speak.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” Neil finally says. And he probably had a fucking panic attack right there in the middle of the parking lot. But considering Neil still doesn’t want Andrew worrying, that’s where he leaves it.
Andrew stills. In the end, he says nothing in response to that. Instead, a phone buzzes, and Andrew flips it open.
“The cheerleader,” he says, irritation in his voice that makes Neil laugh breathily, even though it hurts.
“Katelyn, yeah,” Neil says. “She put her number in there a while ago. It pisses Aaron off that we’re friends.”
Andrew hums in what Neil thinks is consideration.
Neil lets the conversation lapse back into silence. Neil almost manages to fall back asleep. And then, “She helped you tonight.”
Neil manages a sleepy noise of agreement. “She’s gonna be a good doctor, I think.”
“I don’t care.”
Neil laughs again. It pulls at a bandage he doesn’t remember getting plastered to his face. “Don’t tell Aaron that Katelyn and I are scheming behind his back.”
“Scheming.”
“Mmm. Yeah. We’re doing friendship dates to try pissing him off—well. I’m doing it to piss him off. Katelyn genuinely wants to be friends for yours and Aaron’s sake, I guess.”
“You’re concussed, Junkie,” Andrew tells him.
Neil hums. “I’m also dead fucking tired.”
Andrew’s hand in his hair presses down just a tiny bit more before his fingers start to move with the lightest of touches. He says, “Then sleep.”
And Neil does just that.