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He’s bleeding out on the locker room floor again because this is where Riko left him.
It’s been a good few years since Neil’s time on the run ended, and that instinct to move, move, move was gutted to death right along with his mother. Staying still is the only choice he’s allowed, so it’s the only choice he makes. He used to think people had parts of themselves that were intrinsic, such as his own restlessness or his mother’s stubborn refusal to bend to any force other than her own. He doesn't think things that naive anymore.
Riko has made good work of him. A ruthless defender, the third placeholder in his perfect court, and fastest in the league just after Riko himself. Everything will always be ‘just after Riko.’ This is the nest, and that’s how things go.
“Neil, we have practice again in a few hours. You can’t stay here forever.”
Oh good, an audience.
He didn’t even notice Jean come through the door. Neil’s worn through. The beating he got for his insolence this time around was less of a warning and more of an exercise in finding out how many times you can hit someone before breaking a bone. If you’re a weak piece of shit like Riko, that number is a lot higher than you’d think.
The others see the steep rise in his rebellious behavior as a pathetic attempt to free himself like Kevin— Jean sees it for what it is: his will’s giving out. Survival means less than it should these days. All the winding black hallways and starless nights. When the dorm lights shut off, he can’t help but ask himself the difference between his bed and a coffin.
But Jean’s desperate for company, and they’re both sinking. Have been for longer than either of them are willing to admit. Protective streaks and loyalty are what once bound the three of them— back when Kevin was more than the bloody ghost haunting Riko’s shoulders. All that’s left of them now is dragging each other to the bottom of the ocean and pretending to fight against the tide.
“Come on, Neil. I won’t wait all night.”
But it’s okay. He can pretend. Back before his mother turned to smoke, he was good at it. Neil could be anyone, anything. So now, with bruised ribs and an empty heart, he can pretend to be someone better than he is; he’s got good practice.
“I was just enjoying the view,” Neil manages to wheeze out. Standing up is so much harder than it should be. He’s had worse, but like he said, his fight’s giving out.
“Of the locker room ceiling,” Jean mocks, moving forward to help him off the floor.
“If I blink really fast, I start seeing stars.”
“That’s just the head trauma.”
“The French are so joyless.”
Now standing, he only manages one step forward before nearly collapsing right back onto the floor. Jean steps in because he spots Neil’s weakness before he does. That’s what it means to be partners in this place.
“I have a stash of pain meds in my drawer,” he whispers in worried French. The stars are back, and as Neil glances at him, he looks like a galaxy. Neil’s universe has been shrinking down piece by piece. He’s the only part left of it. Jean’s the only reason he’s still here. Some days Neil finds it within himself to resent him for it. “There’s some of the strong stuff left.”
“You mean oxy? How did you even get your hands on that shit? Did you steal it off the nurse?”
“I know you of all people are not about to lecture me about breaking the rules.”
However, Neil’s the reason they are alone with each other now. Some days Jean resents him for that, too. Neil made the plan to get Kevin away from here. Sent him out to all the right people. Jean couldn’t get himself to leave the nest, and Neil couldn’t get himself to leave Jean. He knows they both would’ve been tracked down and killed, but dying to a life on the run is familiar territory. Neil had made his peace with it. Now he’s not at peace at all.
With help from Jean, Neil stumbles back into his bed. He’s got an hour and fifty-three minutes to get some rest— the mental calculation of it comes second nature.
Jean asks him again if he wants it, and he won’t ask a third time.
Neil takes it from him, rolling the pill between his forefinger and thumb. It’s hard to see with the lights out, but enough years in this place have given him time to adjust around the darkness. The pill is blue, he can just barely tell. The only things that make Neil feel better these days are the ones that walk the line between life and death.
Neil swallows it. He’s forgetting if there was a time he was strong enough to do anything but.
———
The first time they see Kevin again is hard on both of them, even if it’s for similar and opposite reasons.
On the bus ride to the banquet, Jean is silent. He won’t even look in Neil’s direction and hasn’t for the past week. The silence suffocated him at first, but eventually he grew numb to it like everything else. Even if he wanted to talk it out, there's no chance to do so. Since the loss of his second in command he’s become the insufficient placeholder for Riko’s loneliness. Neil got rid of his favorite pet, and now he’s paying for it.
Riko makes loud, cruel jokes from the seat beside him, and it’s always followed by a chorus of synchronized laughter. Neil barely stifles a grimace at the sound. Riko notices because, despite his ego, he always notices Neil. He fascinates him. Not quite in the same way Kevin did— there was something deeper than simple fascination there— but enough that he’s always caught his interest in the worst ways. Maybe it’s the bite that Riko still hasn’t been able to beat out of him. Maybe it’s that he’s playing a careful hunter’s game, waiting and watching until Neil finally falls apart under his hands. Maybe he knows he’s almost there.
Neil gets an elbow in the side for his non-participation. Riko doesn’t glance towards Jean and his silent seething, and he figures it’s better this way. Better Neil than him.
“What’s got your feathers all ruffled, Weninski,” Riko smiles through the wolfish slide of his teeth.
He’s the only one in the team who still deigns to call him that. Neil’s not sure which he hates more, his arrogance or the stupid fucking raven pun.
“Nothing,” Neil replies smooth as anything. “Try telling a funny one. Maybe next time I’ll laugh.”
While he expects the hand at his throat, the panic is still hard to shuck down. Riko’s nails dig into Neil’s skin, blunt just like his fathers. Pain doesn’t come easier just because he knows how to predict it.
“Easy there. Not sure you want to get me all riled up before our big reunion with the dog you let through the front gate.”
It’s ice water to the face. Neil’s been having nightmares about what Riko will do at the banquet for weeks, but he knows he’ll be kept beside him the entire night. Riko has an inferiority complex that he’ll try to quell by convincing everyone else he simply doesn’t want Kevin anymore– he’s got a new, fiercer toy to throw at the wall.
Neil’s only hope is that the Foxes resemble their namesake and make a massacre of the Ravens tonight.
The bus pulls into the parking lot without further injury, just the bruises on his neck and purple blooming across his side. Jean is the last to get off the bus, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost. He needs Neil more than ever, but Neil’s a bad man to need.
Riko yanks Neil next to him by the collar of his shirt, and Neil smacks his hand away. With the low hum of music spilling out of the building’s front door, Riko is immediately put in a good mood; it sours his.
Their seating arrangements are right across from the Foxes because of course they are. Riko would never have it any other way– he’s a whore for the theatrics of it all.
As they line up and take their seats, all in sync, Kevin has his head bowed halfway in his lap. He’s so pale that he’s started turning green, and the tremble in his shoulders turns full body the second the chairs scoot in. Neil wants to call out to him, the instinct to help him nearly scratching right through his skin, but he thinks better of it. Andrew is leaning across the table with his head propped on his elbows, beaming at Riko like a kid on Christmas. Drug-induced mania, he assumes, but for a split-second Andrew’s eyes divert from Riko’s to Neil’s and then down to his nail-bitten neck, and Andrew looks more sober for it.
“Kevin!” Riko jibes. “It’s been so long. When was the last time we spoke properly like this? Ah, yes. Your accident. How’s the arm?”
The three of them tense– Jean, Kevin, and Neil– and suddenly it feels like they’ve all been placed right back in the waiting maw of the nest. They all remember that night in blurs and flashes. Fear swallowed the memory whole. Neil’s heartbeat jackrabbits into a gallop, and he would almost believe nothing had changed between that night and now if it weren’t for the sharpening glint of Andrew’s smile. For reasons outside of human understanding, Neil trusts him. Maybe he sees himself in Andrew. Maybe it’s something else entirely.
The rest of the Foxes are quick to jump to Kevin’s defense, Dan Wilds on the front lines, likely trying to stifle whatever venomous words lie in wait behind Andrew’s teeth. Riko and her go back and forth until Matt Boyd looks half-ready to leap across the table and tear out his throat.
Jean looks at the team with a sour grimace. He hates them, the disorganized, unworthy mess of them. Neil’s a little in awe. Even hating each other half to death, the Foxes form a line of defense to protect their own.
Kevin’s head tilts up from the floor with Riko preoccupied and lands his attention on Jean. His gaze doesn’t divert towards Neil, and it won’t. Looking at Neil is hard. Kevin’s sitting across the table and basking in all Neil’s ever wanted, and he knows it.
“Hello, Kevin,” Jean says, all ice.
“Jean,” Kevin replies, quiet as anything.
The grip Jean has on the edge of the table turns white. It’s jealousy and rage and hopelessness all bubbling up to the surface of him. At this moment, he hates Kevin. At this moment, he hates Neil too.
They don’t continue their conversation beyond that. Just a silent staring competition where they both know words will simultaneously be too much and not enough. Andrew’s sharp attention flicks to them and then away in clear disinterest. Neil’s convinced the goalie is only part-way high. He’s on the come down.
Instead, Andrew leans towards him.
"Neil," he says. "Hey, Neil. Roadrunner. Hey. Hey. Hello."
He hears a lull in the verbal catfight as Riko’s attention slides in his direction. Neil has a way of drumming up spectacles, and his reputation precedes him.
Andrew reaches forward to shake his hand in a gesture that would be polite if it were coming from anyone other than a Minyard. It’s a trap. He walks into it anyway. Andrew’s knuckles go white as he tries to crush his hand, but Neil has always been good at giving as well as he gets. When they both drop their grip, his hand aches. The passive expression on Neil’s face twists into something a little more feral.
“I’m Andrew. We haven’t met.”
Before Neil gets the chance to reply, Jean cuts in. “That’s because that is like introducing fire to kerosene. Find someone else to fuck with tonight.”
But he’s not saying that to protect Andrew, he’s saying that to protect Neil. Riko made him promise to be on good behavior at the banquet, and Neil’s a liar with a shaky history of keeping his mouth shut when it counts.
“Not sure you need much of an introduction,” Neil says despite Jean. “Your face gets plastered over every exy publication once a week for bad behavior. I know who you are, Andrew Minyard.”
His manic smile grows like a house on fire. Neil’s reminded, suddenly, that Riko’s not the only killer at the table.
“Coming from you, that sounds like a compliment.”
Neil tries to keep the amusement out of his voice. “Maybe it is.” He fails.
“Pardon Nathaniel. He’s not fully trained. Table manners haven’t been beaten into him yet, but we’re working on it,” Riko says.
His fingers dig into Neil’s thigh under the table, and all the amusement drains right out of him. All that’s left is a tight ball of dread in his chest. He grits his teeth. The three of them tense slightly at the warning in his tone. It's muscle memory when their bodies remember exactly what follows. This, more than anything else, is what makes them Ravens.
Andrew is nonplussed. He keeps his tone as patronizingly smug as it always is. “You sure you’re not the one who needs training? You’ve been barking nonstop since you sat down. My eardrums are going to burst before the music starts.”
“It’s just the inferiority complex,” Neil says before his mind catches up with his mouth. “He thinks if he talks enough, people will forget why this has been his worst scoring season to date. You know, with no Kevin around to bully into doing all the hard work and goal assists.”
Kevin and Jean go white in the face. Jaws drop down the line of the table on both sides, the Ravens slightly more subtle in their shock but no less wary.
Andrew Minyard might be a bad influence on Neil, but so is this night. Kevin’s in front of him, drunk on fear and vodka, and won’t even look him in the fucking eye. Jean’s no better off, his panic filed sharp as a knife and wielded as hate-fueled rage towards Kevin, Neil, himself— just anyone but fucking Riko because what’s the point of picking a fight with the devil when you’ll never win. And then, of course, here Riko sits with his wounded pride and empty promises of brotherhood, being burned alive by a ‘betrayal’ he manufactured when he took a hammer to the only thing tying Kevin to him. And that’s somehow Neil’s fault, so he gets the beatings and the torture and the endless dehumanization because, at the end of the day, he doesn’t belong to anyone but the Moriyamas. Neil will be stuck here forever and ever, always looking out on the other side of freedom— so fucking close he can taste it between his teeth— and knowing it’s not his fate. Life is the luck of the draw, and he only believes in the bad kind; he’s never been given the chance to believe anything else.
Riko’s hand comes down on the back of Neil’s neck, hard and unrelenting. Nothing is kind about the blood pooling under the strength of Riko’s nails. He knows he’s fucked when he gets back to the nest tonight, but he’s always fucked. Just another night and another night and no more days.
The Foxes look at the grip Riko has on him with open disdain. A few of them look about ready to leap across the table to defend him, and they barely know him. He’s bred more loyalty with them in twenty minutes than he has in five years with the Ravens.
Andrew appraises him from across the table.
“Sounds like he’s more Fox than Raven to me.”
Riko’s scowl is tight with fury. “Careful, Doe. Those are fighting words. You’ve stolen enough pets off me as it is. You won’t like me when I start collecting compensation.”
“No one likes you regardless,” Nick Hemmick says. “Not even your own teammates, it seems.”
Neil nearly bites through his cheek to suppress a hiss as Riko’s hold turns agonizing. A collar of bruises. Or a noose of them, more like.
The confrontation with the Foxes is ended shortly after by the PSU coach butting in and moving his team to a new table. Neil watches Kevin leave with half a brain to be thankful that he’s temporarily out of Riko’s clutches, but it’s hard to focus on anything but the blood trickling down his neck.
In another act of grace, Riko gets pulled away by the Master to go make nice with some corporate sponsors. It seems he’s smart enough not to drag Neil along with him— everything about him is a PR nightmare waiting to happen.
For three full minutes Neil manages to stay with his back to the walls of the room as they open up the dance floor for rounds of endless networking. As soon as it hits minute four, he goes outside.
When he gets to the side of the building, he leans against the wall with a hiss of breath long enough to empty out the air in his lungs three times over. The nip of the October chill almost soothes him; pain makes sense when you’ve given your body a reason to feel it.
It doesn’t take long before he’s got company.
Andrew saunters towards him, Kevin at his heels and jutting forward like he’s being pulled by an invisible leash. Kevin keeps his eyes to the ground. He’s always been a coward like that, but it’s hard to be on the other side of his wariness.
As per usual, Andrew is unaffected by the strained atmosphere. He slides into the spot next to Neil, two people’s worth of space between them, and takes out a cigarette. Neil watches him, completely entranced in the fluidity of the motion as he lights it. He’s only had a few opportunities to see Andrew up close, but he wears grace like a second skin. He doesn’t even seem aware of it.
Neil is shocked when Andrew taps a cigarette out towards him. He’s even more shocked with himself when he takes it.
Blowing smoke lazily through the side of his mouth, Andrew throws him the lighter. That usual drug-induced smile isn’t plastered on his face anymore, winding down into something more neutral. While he doesn’t seem completely sober yet, he must be using up the last dregs of his high.
The sound of Neil clicking the lighter on makes Kevin raise his head. He holds the cigarette up to his face, but doesn’t put it in his mouth.
“You don’t smoke,” Kevin says, incredulous. And of course that’s the first thing he’s said to Neil all night.
Neil wants to say you don’t know shit about me anymore, but it wouldn’t be fair, and it’s exactly what Riko wants. Needs them to make enemies out of each other. Neil is so fucking tired of letting Riko win.
Instead, he ignores the comment and turns towards Andrew.
“I’m assuming you didn’t come out here for the fun of watching me waste your cigarettes.”
“I wasn’t aware you were going to waste it when I offered it to you. Damn heathen.”
“We all make mistakes,” Neil shrugs.
“Was yours not leaving Riko when you had the chance,” Andrew asks, but it’s not a question. Not really.
Neil tenses immediately, losing his loose posture and gritting his teeth.
“I’ll ask again. Why are you here?”
It goes quiet for a long few seconds, and Kevin goes back to staring at the asphalt like it’ll swallow him whole if he focuses hard enough.
“To give you a second chance. I’m proposing a deal,” Andrew says eventually.
“Which is?” Anger starts to simmer under his skin. He would write it off as a cruel joke, but Neil knows enough to be aware Andrew doesn’t joke about deals. It's why he trusted him with Kevin in the first place.
“You come to the Foxes.”
Purposeful joke or not, Neil laughs. It’s all grit, no humor.
“And what? You’ll stand between me and Riko? Protect me from the Moriyamas?”
Andrew flicks the ash off his cigarette, unperturbed by Neil’s tone. “Can’t be too difficult. No one on this entire goddamn planet is more trouble than Kevin.”
“Hey—!” Kevin starts.
“Can it,” Andrew cuts him off.
Neil starts bouncing his foot in an effort to purge the adrenaline building in him.
“You either underestimate me, or are just willfully blind. Kevin is light work in comparison.”
They both ignore Kevin as he continues mumbling under his breath in garbled complaints.
Andrew says, “The meds make everything dull. I'm looking to stir things up. Having a rabbit to chase around the minefield is bound to keep me entertained.”
Rabbit? Neil scrunches his nose at the idea. When he looks down to see his foot still tapping, he forces himself still. It can’t be helping the comparison.
“Even if I were to fall to the Foxes, I'd have nothing to offer you,” Neil counters.
“Because you’re a ghost of a man?”
It stings, and he hates himself for being so easy to see through. The truth of his nonexistence is hard. Even more difficult when he’s washing himself away with self-destruction under the guise of rebellion.
“Something like that,” Neil says, and means Something less.
Andrew takes a deep drag and lets the smoke out slowly. His face stays stoic, but Neil can tell he’s thinking.
“I'd have use for you in the Foxes. Riko doesn’t stick on you like a leech for no reason, and I need someone to keep Kevin around. He gets jittery. You can keep his attention— I’ve seen you do it. That’s reason enough for a deal.”
“You flatter me, but Riko keeps me around as my eternal punishment for getting rid of Kevin.”
“You're not the one who shattered his arm,” Andrew reasons, like there’s any making sense of Riko’s line of logic. He’s a sadistic child with a brain made up of ego, ego, and ego. There’s no room for anything else.
Regardless, Neil is stunned. Kevin can barely talk about anything other than exy. He can’t imagine him making it through a retelling of that night with Riko. Neil says as much.
“Surprised Kevin told you.”
“He didn’t,” Andrew says, tone a little scathing as he holds Neil’s gaze. “It's not hard to piece together. Unlike you, I'm not an imbecile.”
And, well, for once Neil doesn’t have anything smart to say. A deeply suppressed part of him asks what life would’ve been like if Riko hadn’t let his jealousy consume him. What would life be like if it were the three of them together again, barely surviving but keeping each other afloat. It's weird to know Kevin has let someone else in— that he lets someone else take the punches for him nowadays.
Neil is so in his own head he startles when Andrew speaks again.
“The Foxes have a striker position opening up.”
At first, Neil’s confused. Doesn’t understand the implication of it until he looks over at Kevin and the complicated expression on his face.
All he manages back is, “I'm a backliner.”
Andrew stubs out his cigarette and lights another. On the blow out, Andrew says, “I hear things. Unfortunately, exy is the only thing Kevin never shuts the fuck up about. Can’t tune him out all the time, god knows I’ve tried.”
Neil’s throat goes tight, but his eyes stay dry. He hasn’t cried since the day he burned his mother’s body along with his freedom. So instead the pressure just hurts. His leg starts jumping.
“It's a nice dream. Fox striker,” Neil smiles but it sits on his face all wrong. He drops his cigarette to the ground and crushes it under his shoe. “Maybe in another universe.”
Kevin flinches, but Neil ignores him as he moves off the wall.
However, Andrew doesn’t seem content with his answer. The line of his mouth goes mean as he stares pointedly at the bloody and bruised mess of Neil’s neck.
“Waiting around for Riko to break you next? Too busy hop-hop-hopping yourself off a cliff, rabbit? I didn’t take you for the suicidal type.”
And Neil wonders, briefly, what it would be like to be known outside the nest the way Kevin is now. What it’s like to create bonds that don’t start and end in blood. The Foxes seem like the type of people he’d like to be known by.
“Take care of Kevin for me,” Neil says and walks back inside.
He spots Jean by Riko’s side, tense and coiled tight as a spring. The relief in Jean’s eyes as he spots him back reminds him what he’s doing this for. The sting of adrenaline mellows into something darker as he takes his place on the other side of Riko.
As Neil turns to look at him, Riko smiles.