Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It wasn't really about the letter to Santa. Seriously, they weren't that into the Christmas magic, no matter how much Nicky giggled that their quest to make the kids believe in miracles had gone too far. No, they knew why they were doing it. They wanted it. There was an empty space in their house. It didn't matter that the family already felt complete - they both felt like there was one more facet they needed to add to make it truly complete.

Andrew sighed as he opened the door to the street, and winced at the sound of a loud bark.

"Storm, sit!"

He commands in a stern voice. The German Shepherd puppy they got for the kids stops barking immediately, sitting up and looking at Andrew with a guilty expression. His ears are slightly flattened against his head, but his tail is thumping the porch floor in genuine joy.

The dog was a Christmas present, a wish Chris had made that they couldn't ignore. Even though the kids were doing their best to look after him, and the main responsibility for his care fell on Neil, it was Andrew who Storm obeyed without a question. It was as if the puppy saw him as a leader who couldn't be disobeyed, even though he was affectionate to everyone.

"It's not fair."

Neil mutters, watching Storm's tail flicker like a propeller when Andrew simply looks at him.

"He loves you more."

Andrew grins, adjusting the collar of his jacket.

"Are you jealous?"

"What?"

Neil blinks and then rolls his eyes indignantly.

"Of course not!"

"Okay."

Andrew chuckles, glancing at the dog, who seems to understand every word they say.

The puppy, deciding that he is allowed, whines softly, begging for attention. Andrew pats his head, and Storm instantly calms down. They head to the car, and Neil, still frowning, sits in the front seat.

"It’s just weird that I walk him, the kids feed him, and he only listens to you."

Neil grumbles, but there is no anger in his voice, only a quiet displeasure.

"Well, you could try being more strict with him."

Andrew suggests, starting the engine and glancing in the rearview mirror.

"It won’t help. You’ll still be his favorite."

Neil hears a quiet chuckle from him and, pursing his lips in displeasure, pokes Andrew in the shoulder. Andrew only shakes his head, keeping a slight smile on his face, and Neil turns away to the window, immersed in his thoughts.

Tyler went out with friends, and the twins went to Sophie. But all three knew where Neil and Andrew were going today, and each of them had their own thoughts on the matter.

"Just please, don't bring the baby."

Tyler asked them the night before, smiling slightly, showing that even if they brought a month-old baby, he would still accept him. Or her.

"I want her to be able to play hide and seek with us!"

Chris exclaimed, throwing the ball to the side. The puppy enthusiastically ran after the toy, returned with a drooling ball in his mouth and ran again when it was thrown even further. Neil watched this with a small smile, mentally noting that Storm had proven to be a good solution for Chris's ADHD, even he got tired after a few hours of playing.

"And dinosaurs!"

Jim added, sitting on the floor and hugging one of his toys.
Neil grinned, pretending to write everything down on an imaginary list.

"Any other wishes?"

"Can we call her Mary?"

Jim asked unexpectedly. Neil froze for a moment, the smile disappearing from his face. Andrew immediately realized that this topic had touched him, and gently intervened.

"That's enough."

He said firmly, squeezing Neil's hand in his own and giving him a minute to come to his senses.

"We're not going to the supermarket for groceries. This is a child. He will be who he is."

"She," Jim corrected him, to which Andrew only smirked.

"She."

They remain silent the entire way to the foster care center, afraid to ruin this moment with unnecessary words. Andrew holds Neil's hand a little tighter than usual, and can't help but remember their first visit here, almost a year and a half ago. Everything had seemed so foreign and frightening. They didn't know what lay ahead, that they would become the parents of three amazing, albeit difficult, children. They couldn't imagine the trials they would all have to go through to become a real family. Before leaving the house, Andrew paused by the wall where the adoption certificate hung in a frame. On the wall was that same photo from the courtroom: their friends, their children, themselves - so happy.

Despite his phenomenal memory, Andrew still tries to remember every moment of this new chapter of their lives. The way his fingertips twitch, his heart beats faster, and the faintest smile appears on his lips when he meets Neil's eyes.

This time, everything is different. There are no exhausting weeks of classes to get a guardian certificate, no huge fair with dozens of children and worried foster parents, vigilantly protecting their little ones from prying eyes. This time, everything is simpler.

Just the two of them, Miss Charlotte and a small room where she is already waiting for them - their daughter.

"Her name is Valerie. She is two and a half years old."

Miss Charlotte says with a smile.

"She is a real rascal."

"Only two?"

Neil exhales in shock, glancing quickly at Andrew, who shrugs calmly.

“And a half."

He clarifies, unperturbed.

"But she’s so small.”

Neil whispers. He suddenly realizes he’s not sure they can handle a child that small. They barely managed twins, and they were five when they first moved in together, and that wasn’t easy.

"Andrew, what if we can’t handle it?"

Neil’s voice sounds strained, almost choppy.

"I don’t know anything about children that small. Remember Sophie? That was a nightmare."

He runs a nervous hand through his hair, running through everything he knows—or doesn’t know—about children that age. Do they walk? Do they talk? Can she go to the toilet on her own yet? Will Valerie be able to tell if something is wrong or if she’s in pain? What if she can’t? What if they can't give her what she needs?

Andrew looks at him with his usual calm.

"We'll manage."

He speaks firmly, leaning forward slightly.

"I know enough. And I remember Sophie at that age very well. Yes, it wasn't easy. But we managed then, and we can manage now."

"But there's so much we'll have to do!"

Neil tries to argue, his thoughts racing.

"She probably needs a crib with bumpers so she doesn't fall in the night, special food, and..."

Andrew takes his hands gently but firmly, pulling him closer, and looks him straight in the eyes.

"Neil, calm down."

His voice sounds confident, like an anchor that keeps Neil from drowning in his fears.

"She doesn't need bumpers or special food. At that age, kids are starting to eat regular food."

Neil exhales, but his hands are shaking slightly, and Andrew feels it, squeezing them a little tighter as he continues.

"But she’s so small, Andrew."

Neil exhales nervously.

"What if she throws things everywhere? Throws food? Or doesn’t eat at all? What if she has trouble sleeping? Or…or starts going through all the stages of growing up: lying, screaming for no reason…"

Andrew raises an eyebrow, the corners of his lips trembling slightly, as if he’s trying to hold back a smile.

"Sounds like a little version of you. And look, I’m still alive."

Miss Charlotte stands nearby, not interfering with their conversation, giving them time to decide for themselves whether they’re ready to walk through that door.

"But if you want to say no, that’s okay."

Andrew looks him in the eye.

"You know how it works. We either both agree or we both say no."

Neil pauses, taking a deep breath. His mind is still racing with a thousand thoughts, but he looks at Andrew and sees in his eyes what has always helped him through the toughest times: confidence and trust.

"I…"

Neil swallows and nods, smiling slightly.

"No. I want this."

Andrew shakes his head, grinning, and lifts a hand to run through Neil’s hair, gently ruffling it.

"Then we’ll try. Together."

"Do you really think we can do this?"

Neil whispers, as if he’s afraid to be overheard. He lowers his eyes, his gaze sliding to the floor.

"She’s a girl."

But Andrew doesn’t share his doubts. Neil knows it from the way he looks at him with confidence, without looking away. They’ve talked about this before. About how fathers are more likely to want boys because they can play ball with them, or go fishing with them, or watch football with them. But they already had three sons, none of whom were interested in sports, much to Neil’s disappointment. Neither of them had ever been fishing before: Andrew hated getting up early in the morning, and Neil didn’t like the feeling of a slippery fish in his hands. They even turned on the TV more often for cartoons, sitting on the couch as a family, pulling the cats and Storm onto their laps.

"She’s a girl."

Andrew nods in agreement, his voice even but warm.

"But she needs the same that boys need: love. And we can give her that."

Neil looks up. He sees in Andrew’s blue eyes the confidence he’s trying to find himself. A smile appears on Neil’s lips, and the anxiety disappears.

"Yes."

He says quietly, nodding, as if trying to convince not only Andrew, but himself as well.

"We can. She’ll be the happiest girl in the world."

Andrew shakes his head, grinning. They turn to Miss Charlotte, who smiles at them softly and warmly. Andrew nods confidently at her.

"We're ready to see our daughter."

"Okay, but be quiet. It's her nap time."

Miss Charlotte warns, gesturing for them to come in. Andrew holds out his hand and Neil takes it, squeezing it tightly. They take a deep breath, open the door and enter the room where Valerie is waiting.

The room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn, letting in only thin strips of light. A little girl is sleeping on a small cot, tucked into blankets and hugging a fluffy stuffed rabbit.

"Oh, fuck..."

Neil whispers, stunned by what he saw. His voice is quiet, almost trembling, as if he's afraid to wake her.

"She's a redhead."

"Discrimination against redheads, Neil? Friendly fire?"

Andrew snorts, but his gaze is also fixed on the sleeping girl. She is tiny, with round cheeks covered in tiny freckles that seem even cuter in her sleep. Her hair is bright red, like tongues of flame, spread out on the pillow in curly locks. Her small hands are clutching a plush toy tightly.

"Her hair is so…"

Neil adds quietly, almost in a whisper, as if he doesn’t believe it.

"And long enough to braid."

Andrew notices with a slight smile. He can already imagine how he will carefully braid those soft curls into pigtails, making her look like a sly little fox or a restless squirrel.

"You can’t keep taking children just because they look like me."

Neil teases, trying to hide how much this scene touches him. He sees Andrew's frozen gaze on the girl. It's funny because the twins really did look a lot like Andrew, except for Neil's blue eyes. And Tyler seemed to have taken on the habits of both his parents, turning them into a nuclear mixture. But Valerie was the spitting image of Neil, only her hair was lighter and more reminiscent of the warm summer sun.

Andrew only smiles slightly, not taking his eyes off the baby.

"I'd like to see how you stop me."

"Andrew."

Neil shakes his head, rolling his eyes, but a warm smile still plays on his face. He realizes that he's already fallen in love with this girl, just as he has with the twins, and with Tyler, and with their family.

"What?"

Andrew raises an eyebrow, but his gaze remains fixed on the child. He nods slightly toward Miss Charlotte, smiling faintly.

"We'll take her. Pack her up, no receipt needed. Thank you."

"Oh, shut up."

Neil hisses, covering his face with his hand, but there's a laugh in his voice. He turns to Miss Charlotte, his eyes already glowing with warmth and determination.

"Can we wake her up?"

Neil asks, still slightly nervous. Miss Charlotte smiles at them kindly and nods.

"I'll have to stay in the room, but yes, you can."

Neil and Andrew walk over to the small crib together, sitting down on its edge. Both of them can't take their eyes off the tiny figure covered with a blanket.

Tyler was easily awoken by any noise, and he didn't need to be told twice, just a soft call or a knock on the door. Jim needed to whine a little, but eventually he got out of bed himself, rubbing his eyes and heading for the bathroom. Chris, on the other hand, turned it into a real battle, stubbornly ignoring any attempts by Neil to wake him up and remaining a dead body until he won. Well, or until Andrew entered the room, simply lifting him up and carrying him to the bathroom.

But Valerie... She is completely different, small and gentle. Andrew leans closer, gently blowing on her face, causing the curls of her red curls to sway and open her eyes.

The little girl frowns in her sleep and wrinkles her tiny freckled nose in displeasure.

"Valerie."

Neil calls softly, feeling how the excitement in his chest mixes with something gentle. The girl tosses and turns and sleepily rubs her eyes.

"Valerie, wake up."

He repeats, smiling. She sighs heavily, stretching her small arms up before slowly opening her eyes. Large, bright green eyes look at them with slight confusion, as if she is trying to figure out who these two strangers are in front of her.

Neil freezes, struck by this shade of green, so rich he has never seen it before.

"Who are you?"

Valerie asks quietly, blinking sleepily and continuing to look at them. Her gaze lingers on Neil's scars, but there is more curiosity in her eyes than fear.

"We are your new parents."

Andrew answers calmly, his voice firm and confident. The girl's eyes widen, as if trying to process what she has heard.

"Do you want to go home?"

Andrew asks with a small smile. She nods, stretching out her small hands towards them, dropping her fluffy bunny on the floor in the process.

"Yes."

Valerie answers quietly, but with a firm confidence that Neil hears as something that echoes their own desire to be her family.

Neil picks the girl up carefully, feeling how tiny and warm she is in his arms. Andrew places his hand gently on her back, hugging them both. They glance at each other over Valerie's red curls, smiling at each other.

"We can do this."

Neil says quietly. Andrew nods.

"Like as always. Together."

Chapter Text

A family Christmas was something Neil and Andrew could never have dreamed of in their lives before. It was a real miracle that they created themselves, after so many years of loneliness and pain.

For Andrew, Christmas used to be a time of disappointment and bitterness. When he was little, every year he would see other children excitedly opening presents and proudly telling what their parents had prepared for them. And he... he had long since stopped hoping for anything good from his adoptive parents. There were no presents, and instead of joy and fun, there was only a cold emptiness. Christmas became a reminder to him that no one was waiting for him, loved him, or cared for him. Andrew already knew that he shouldn’t expect any care or affection.

But then, later, when his “big brother” came for the holidays, Andrew began to associate Christmas with fear and pain. His visits did not bring joy, as his foster mother thought, but only reminded him that he would not be able to escape the familiar horror. Andrew could not understand why everyone around him was so excited about the holidays, with their garlands, decorations, and loud celebrations around the common table. In his world, it made no sense. Then all he did was try to do something good for Neil. Neil, who looked with delight at these garlands and trees, with eyes full of happiness and childish faith in miracles.

Neil, for his part, didn't know what a real Christmas was either. His memories of the holidays were filled with fear. With a murderous father and later a mother who was always on the run, there was no talk of a holiday. Presents, decorations, even Christmas cookies - all of this was unavailable to him. Instead of joy and family comfort, Neil experienced only fear and hatred, when all around him was cold and empty. Christmas was not a holiday for him, but just another day to survive.

And now that they were together, Christmas became something new and incredible for them. It was like a discovery - a bright holiday, filled with real love and care, which they both had been deprived of for so long. With each garland hung, with each bright light on the tree, with each happy smile of their children who joyfully decorated the house, Andrew began to feel his heart melt.

Now Christmas wasn't just a holiday - it was a symbol of them finally finding each other, finally finding their family. Who would have thought that it had been two years already.

"Papa, hurry up!"

Chris shouts impatiently, and Neil picks up a box with the crooked word "Christmas" and snowflakes painted on the side. It was a little dusty from the year it had been lying in the attic, but Neil doesn't even notice, trembling as he runs his fingertips over the drawing. These snowflakes were painted by the twins last year.

"I'm coming!"

Neil shouts back, noticing another box of garlands and tinsel nearby. He narrows his eyes, assessing whether he can pick up both boxes at once. Thoughts flash through his mind about how he'll have to get down there without dropping either of them.

"Go faster!"

"I'm trying! Don't shout, come and help me!"

Neil can't stand it any longer and hears the sound of feet from below. Chris is almost there. He stands by the stairs to the attic and lifts his head up, trying to see what's going on there.

"Papa, I came to help you!"

Chris doesn't even try to climb the stairs, and Neil silently thanks himself for explaining to Chris several times how important it is to be careful if he decides to climb up on his own, and how painful it can be to fall from this shaky ladder if someone doesn't hold it from below.

"Great!"

Neil comes down, holding a light box of tinsel in his hands, and solemnly hands it to Chris, who is jumping with impatience. He is wearing a hat and for some reason his jacket is unbuttoned so as not to freeze outside. Chris can't wait to show Valerie all their toys - for the first time she will decorate the tree with them.

"Here, carry them carefully, okay?"

Chris nods, seriously hugging the box to his chest, and is already running outside. At the same moment, there is a knock and the sound of something falling. Neil turns around, and his gaze meets a familiar picture - Chris is lying on the floor, but despite this, he does not let go of the box.

"I'm fine!"

"Make sure your dad doesn't hear you."

Neil winces, but his lips involuntarily curl into a smile.

"I heard everything! I'll talk to you later!"

Andrew shouts from the first floor. Neil winks at Chris, who, having risen, takes the box in his hands again, and heads for the stairs. Taking the remaining decorations, Neil thinks to himself that this holiday will definitely be special.

"Look, Vi! We'll decorate the tree with this!"

Chris yells, setting the box down in the snow with a loud noise. Valerie, also in a hat and jacket, lets go of purring Sir, who is happily twirling around her, and walks up to her brother. The snow crunches under her boots, and she stops next to him, glancing at Andrew, who is clearing a path around the tree with Tyler, removing the snow that fell overnight. She tilts her head slightly, repeating the gesture after Neil.

"Can I, Dad?"

Valerie asks with a smile, pointing to the tinsel in the box.

"Sure, how else are we going to decorate the tree?"

Andrew answers. He nods, watching the children vigorously making chaos around the tree, and glances at Tyler, who is helping him.

"We'll also need to wire a switch to connect the garlands."

Tyler nods and sets the shovel aside, heading over to the pile of wires lying on the porch. He picks them up, carefully unfolds them, and plugs them in. Meanwhile, Andrew looks at their real tree with pride. He's glad Neil decided to buy it back then - it really was better than the regular artificial tree they had in their house before.

The kids are already unpacking the box, taking out colorful tinsel, which they happily use to decorate the lower branches of the tree. King immediately climbs into the empty box, settling down comfortably inside. However, her contented face and fluffy tail still stick out of the box.

"Did I make it?"

Jim asks breathlessly, running out of the house with Storm behind him. The dog barks happily, as always, ready for adventure. Especially if we're all together.

"Yiu made it. Button up your jacket."

The dog waits patiently for the boy to finish, and then runs out into the street, racing towards Andrew.

"Sit."

Despite the stern tone, Andrew can't help but lean over and scratch Storm behind the ears, who happily sticks out his tongue and happily shakes his tail. Sir, noticing the stranger, meows anxiously, jumps out of the yard and disappears into the house, and King doesn't even notice the new guest - she's too busy with the box.

"Ow! Fuck!"

There is a loud meow, then a knock and Neil's scream from the house. Andrew narrows his eyes, not saying out loud that, most likely, Neil just stepped on the cat. Chris and Valerie have always been especially sensitive to animals and their suffering, and Andrew did not want to ruin this wonderful day.

"Poor Sir."

Tyler mutters, glancing at Andrew with a small grin, who can't help but grin back.

"Okay, here are the rest of the decorations!"

Neil announces, walking out into the yard in just his sweater and setting another box down in the snow. He looks around at the group before continuing.

"Should we start with the tree and then decorate the rest? Or should we split up and bake cookies later?"

"Cookies!"

Vi exclaims, her eyes shining as she eagerly looks from the boxes to Neil. As always, she never turned down food, especially if it was cookies.

"Later. They still need to be baked."

Neil explains, stroking her hair as she lets out a small, frustrated huff. Jim, seeing her displeasure, wraps an arm around her shoulders, leaving Storm to roll around in the snow.

"We'll all bake them together. And you can make any shape you want and then color it in."

Vi's eyes light up and she nods immediately, absolutely excited, as always.

"I want to bake cookies!"

"Me too!"

Chris agrees, already wearing two bright red Christmas tree balls sticking out from under his hat on his ears and a yellow tinsel around his neck instead of a scarf.

"Me too!"

Tyler raises his hand, smiling at everyone. It seems like they're all eagerly waiting for this little family tradition to begin.

"Ty, are you in?"

Neil asks, holding one of the garlands so it doesn't get tangled.

"Yeah. Otherwise you'll have to go get a stepladder."

Tyler chuckles, and the next moment a snowball hits him in the face, making him laugh.

"I'm just kidding!"

Ty says, before he can dodge it, he shakes the snow off his face, still laughing.

"Snowball fight!"

Chris yells, and Neil barely manages to duck before a crooked snowball flies straight at him.

And everyone, as if on cue, rushes into battle. Andrew instantly clutches a snowball in his hand and aims accurately at Tyler. With his accuracy, Tyler doesn't stand a chance - the snowball flies like a sniper shot, and hits the target. Ty laughs and steps back, putting his hands out to protect himself.

Neil laughs and helps Valerie make snowballs. He hands them to her so she can run up and throw them at her brothers or Andrew, who, giving in, don't even try to dodge her throws.

"That's it! My girl!"

Neil laughs, passing her another snowball and ducking to avoid another throw from Jim, who also doesn’t miss his moment.

“Daddy, hold on!”

Valerie screams, still laughing merrily. Neil tries to stay on his feet, not letting the snowballs hit him, but then one of Chris’s snowballs hits him in the chest - and Neil exaggeratedly gasps and falls on his back, pretending to be mortally wounded.

Laughter is heard all around as everyone throws snowballs at each other. Neil, lying in the snow, looks at his children, their faces shining with joy, and his heart fills with pride. It's been a long time since he's felt this light and happy.

When the fight is over and everyone is pretty wet and out of breath, they start decorating the yard with bright lights, and the tree with baubles and tinsel. The evening sky seems to respond to their joy, dimly glowing with stars that contrast with the bright lights on the tree.

Then they return to the house, where they warm up, removing snow from their clothes and warming their frozen hands on cups of hot cocoa and marshmallows. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla hangs in the air, and the children's laughter fills the room again. As soon as the drinks are gone and the cups are empty, Neil takes the pre-made dough out of the refrigerator and hands out a large piece to each child.

"And my biggest baby gets the biggest piece!"

Neil laughs, slapping a huge lump of dough in front of Andrew. The children laugh happily, feeling the holiday atmosphere.

"I'll make you..."

"Ooo, so cute!"

"And then I'll bite your head off."

Andrew continues with a threat, and everyone bursts into laughter again. Neil smiles teasingly, leaning closer to Andrew, playing along.

"You know, bite my..."

"Chris! Don't eat the dough!"

Andrew turns away from flirting with Neil and points a finger at Chris, who, unabashed, is about to put another piece of raw dough in his mouth.

"Life has taught you nothing? Remember how your stomach hurt last year from raw dough?"

Chris, a little confused, swallows the one he's already put in his mouth and shrugs.

"I already forgot."

"Remember it and stop. This applies to everyone. The dough is only for cookies!"

Neil makes snowmen with a smile. They come out a little crooked, with their heads askew and their eyes slanted toward their carrot noses, but each one is still unique, just like this moment.

"Why are they so ugly?"

Andrew grins, but Vi looks up before Neil can answer.

"That's not nice, Dad!"

Neil raises his eyebrows, pretending to think seriously.

"That wasn't really, by the way! Thank you, honey."

"And they're not ugly!"

Jim says, examining Neil's oven while Chris eats some more dough with gusto, while no one is looking.

"They just melted because it's so warm. Right, Papa?"

"Yeah, that's what I meant."

Neil nods, smiling, stroking Vi, who's snuggled up to him. Then his gaze falls on Andrew's creation. He really did make a figure out of dough that looked very much like Neil, as well as himself and the other kids. Neil exhaled in admiration and Andrew straightened up proudly.

"Look what I made!"

Chris shouted, proudly showing off his carefully formed Christmas trees made with the help of cookie cutters. Jim, sitting next to him, kept up with his brother and carefully cut out snowflakes and presents from the dough, working with concentration so that every detail was perfect. Tyler, a little out of rhythm, tried to create a figure of Santa and his elf helpers, but the dough sometimes spread a little under his hands.

Only Valerie preferred animals over Christmas cookie cutters. Working with concentration and sticking out the tip of her tongue from the tension, she had already cut out a whole zoo out of the dough, starting with rabbits with fluffy ears and ending with long-necked giraffes, which look a little strange, but very cute.

They will bake all the cookies today, but they will not color them until tomorrow morning, when the cookies have cooled. Jim will lick the food coloring off his brush again, and Chris will color not only the cookies, but her face as well. Tyler will probably go to his friends, but Valerie. Well, they still have to find out what she will do.

Late in the evening, when they are about to go up to their rooms, Vi tugs at Andrew's sleeve.

"Dad?"

She whispers, looking at him with a question in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Does Santa really exist?"

Andrew freezes, not knowing how to answer. He would like to preserve the miracle for his little daughter as long as possible, but uncertainty flickers in his thoughts. Luckily, Jim is nearby and intervenes in time, rescuing Andrew from a difficult situation.

"Of course! He flies with a team of reindeer and brings gifts. Then we'll write a letter, and he'll bring you everything you ask for!"

Jim nods confidently, and Andrew breathes a sigh of relief. Vi looks at him with a wide smile.

"Really?"

Valerie gasps, looking up at Andrew with hope and faith. He nods, confirming Jim's words.

"That's right."

Andrew puts Valerie to bed, adjusts the blanket, as always, with tenderness, and bends down to kiss her on the top of her head.

"Goodnight, honey."

"Goodnight."

Valerie responds, almost falling asleep. Andrew, once again glancing at her calm, almost angelic face, leaves the room. She has already fallen asleep, wrapped in a warm blanket. Having closed the door, he notices Jim standing in the hallway and looking at him with a serious expression.

"Dad."

"Yes?"

Andrew tilts his head, noticing the thoughtfulness in the boy's voice.

"Actually, I know you brought Vi home. It wasn't Santa."

Andrew's lips curl slightly, a hint of sadness in his eyes. He wants Jim's faith in miracles to last as long as possible, to keep the magic of Christmas with him for at least a little while longer.

"Who do you think helped us to find her?"

Tyler's voice is heard, appearing on the second floor with a glass of water in his hands. He hears the conversation and immediately connects.

"Of course it was Santa! If it weren't for him, we might have had a sister, but a completely different one. Santa found Vi and sent our parents a hint where to look for her."

Jim looks at his brother, his eyes light up with delight, and he smiles widely.

"It's a good thing Santa sent us Vi. I wouldn't want another sister!"

With these words, he runs into his room, the door closing softly behind him. Tyler smiles, watching him go, and then turns his gaze to Andrew.

"And I wouldn't want another parents."

Andrew freezes for a moment before reaching out and hugging Tyler tightly. Even though he's already taller than him and Neil, Ty still feels like the same 15-year-old boy in his arms.

"I wouldn't want another son."

"Hugs without me?"

Neil's playful voice is heard coming out of the nursery. He walks up to them and hugs them both, bringing warmth and lightness with him. Tyler laughs, feeling another pair of strong arms wrap around him.

Christmas with family. What could be better?

Chapter Text

It was all Aaron's fault.

Seriously, if it wasn't him, none of this would have happened. Andrew again regretted not eating him in the womb.

"Andrew."

Neil calls him, entering the bedroom and sitting down next to him on the bed. Andrew turns over a page of his book without even raising his head.

"Mm?"

"Andrew?"

Neil calls him again, this time more insistently, clearly demanding his full attention.

"Mmm?"

Andrew moans again, unperturbed, still absorbed in his reading.

"Stop it."

Neil sighs, a little annoyed, but with a sly smile.

"Do you want me to tell you who the killer is, and then we can talk?"

Andrew sighs heavily and slowly puts the book aside, turning his head to Neil.

"Don't you dare."

Neil smirks and hands him the phone with the open chat.

"Aaron sent me something."

Andrew narrows his eyes, picking up the phone, and raises an eyebrow questioningly.

"Now that's interesting. How long have you been talking to my brother behind my back?"

"A long time. We've been thinking together how to bother you again."

"I knew it."

Andrew glances at the phone screen. He carefully reads a couple of messages, and his face immediately distorts with a mixture of indignation and doom.

"Oh, no."

"Yeah, go ahead", Neil happily urges, anticipating.

"No."

"It's a tradition, Andrew."

Neil adds with a grin, looking straight into his eyes.

"If we're going to play by all the rules of Christmas, we're going to play until the end."

Andrew rolls his eyes and shakes his head, knowing full well that he doesn't really have a choice.

"We're already writing letters and baking cookies for Santa. What else do we need?"

"This."

"No."

"Why not? The kids will love them!"

"They're creepy", Andrew grimaces, looking at the screen.

Neil laughs, snatching his phone from him and opening the online store.

"Don't tell me you're scared of them?"

Andrew shoots him a murderous look, which Neil only smirks at, raising his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay. We'll find something non-creepy. Move along", Neil says, settling in next to him.

Andrew sighs heavily again, but seeing Neil's persistence, he reluctantly dives into the search with him. What wouldn't you do for the kids?

"This one?", Neil points at the screen, showing another option.

"No. His eyes look like they're looking into your soul."

"Yeah. Okay, you're right. They're a little creepy, though."

...

Neil had read that the elf usually arrives at the house when the Christmas tree is decorated. Some kids who can already write leave a greeting letter for the elf. Others just call out to him, enticing him with treats as soon as the tree is up. Neil decided that a letter was a great idea.

One evening, while collecting the kids' letters for Santa, Neil raises an eyebrow and says thoughtfully.

"I see letters for Santa..."

"I hope there are no requests for children or animals this year."

Andrew mutters under his breath. Tyler, sitting next to him, chuckles quietly, watching Neil.

"But where are the letters for the elf?"

Neil asks, his gaze sliding over the surprised children's faces.

"What?"

The children ask in unison, looking at each other, clearly not understanding what he's talking about.

"An elf?"

Valerie asks in bewilderment, raising her thin eyebrows questioningly.

"Now that you're officially living here, Santa will send his helper to us."

Neil begins, looking at the children, who are attentively listening to his every word.

"He will keep an eye on you and how you behave. He's a big prankster, but we need to show him our hospitality."

"It's Santa's elf!"

Chris exhales enthusiastically, opening his eyes wide and turning to a smiling Valerie.

"Did you hear it? We're going to have our own elf!"

"Hooray! Papa, can we play with him?"

Valerie asks excitedly, jumping up and down.

"Unfortunately, you can't."

Neil replies, leaning slightly towards her to make his words sound more mysterious.

"The elf only moves and acts up at night, when everyone is asleep. And if you touch him during the day, his magic power will disappear. Then he will become an ordinary toy and will not be able to return back to the North Pole."

"Oh no, how awful!"

Tyler gasps, theatrically covering his mouth with his hand. Neil gives him a warning look, but Tyler just laughs, quickly covering his cough with laughter.

"What do we have to do to get him to come?"

Jim asks seriously, looking at Neil with genuine curiosity.

"We have to write him a letter and invite him."

Neil explains, nodding at the pile of paper, markers, and pens scattered on the table.

"Then leave the letter under the tree with something sweet. Then he'll definitely come."

"Let's write him a letter!"

Chris exclaims, already jumping to his feet. Valerie immediately jumps up after him.

"Yes! Can I draw a kitten?"

A girl with shining eyes asks. Jim frowns, following them.

"A kitten is not a Christmas theme."

"A snowman kitten?"

Valerie suggests hopefully. Jim nods thoughtfully, clearly finding the idea acceptable.

"Okay."

Valerie's face lights up instantly.

"Are you seriously going to do that?"

Tyler whispers, leaning toward Neil in confusion.

"We?"

Neil raises his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"It's a magical elf, Ty. We don't have to do anything."

Andrew rolls his eyes, but Neil notices the small smile that flickers across his face as he watches the children, bent over a piece of paper, trying to come up with the best letter possible, so that the elf will love them from the start and tell Santa that they deserve the best presents.

...

The children wake up and run downstairs with delight and noise, their stomping echoing throughout the house. They are talking loudly, looking into every corner in search of the one who became the main topic of conversation last night.

"Here he is! I found him!"

Chris shouts happily.

Everyone immediately runs to the kitchen, where a toy elf is sitting near the sink on the very edge. He has a wide smile and sly, almost squinting little eyes. He is almost not creepy: all dressed in red and green, long striped knee-highs and a hat with a fluffy pompom on the end.

"Wow!"

Valerie gasps in admiration, immediately reaching out to him, but Jim stops her in time.

"If you touch him, he will become normal, remember? Then there will be no presents."

"Oh, I forgot..."

Valerie smiles embarrassedly, removing her hand and instead firmly taking her older brother's hand.

"Look here!"

Chris laughs, climbing onto the counter and pointing into the sink.

Tyler, curious, comes over and peers inside. He helps Jim and Valerie up, then chuckles, picking up a note lying nearby and reading it out loud.

"I wanted to bring you a snowman from the North Pole, but he melted."

"Yeah, look! There's a carrot floating in there, and sticks for handles!"

Chris adds, choking with laughter.

"And buttons", Neil clarifies, pleased with the children's smiles.

The children laugh, pointing their fingers into the water-filled sink. The elf and his funny joke have clearly won their hearts. Andrew, watching this chaos, sighs, but he can't help but admit: it was a good idea. If ordinary water with "garbage" floating in it makes them happy, who is Andrew to take that joy away from them?

"It’s funny", Tyler nods, casting one last glance at the sink.

"It’s the elf", Neil says, shrugging his shoulders with a completely serious expression.

"Of course", Ty says skeptically, but a faint smile still flickers across his face.

...

On the second night, Andrew decides to add a little intrigue. Taking a toy from each of the children, he carefully slips out of the bedroom. Chris’s doll lies peacefully in the toy box, and Jim’s dinosaur is lying on the floor. Andrew makes short work of them. Valerie, unlike her brothers, is clutching her stuffed rabbit tightly in her little hands. Andrew has to be patient, carefully unclenching each tiny finger. The girl almost wakes up when he pulls out the toy, but Andrew’s soft whisper lulls her to sleep again, turning on her side.

As Andrew goes down to the first floor, he notices King is following him. The cat meows loudly and demandingly, following him, Andrew hisses at her several times.

"I’m not going to feed you, you insatiable monster", Andrew whispers to her.

King meows stubbornly, not retreating, until she realizes that she’s wasting her energy here. Snorting, she runs back upstairs, where she’ll most likely settle down next to Neil in a warm bed.

"Oh, God, what am I doing?"

Andrew asks rhetorically, laying out toys around the elf and getting out some tape.

The morning begins with a piercing scream, so loud that it seems like someone is about to burst into tears.

"My bunny!", Valerie screams.

Neil’s eyes widen and he immediately turns to Andrew, who is already awake.

"You didn't do it", he whispers, horrified.

"I did", Andrew grins wickedly, listening to the patter of little feet in the hallway.

"You're a monster."

Neil breathes out in shock, then quickly changes tactics.

"But how? She's clinging to it with all her might!"

"Patience and hard work..."

Andrew begins, but they are interrupted by a knock on the door and a loud baby cry.

"Daddy!"

Valerie calls, and Neil instantly jumps up to open the door and pick up his daughter.

"Aw, Vi, what happened?"

Andrew can't help but smile slightly as he watches Neil and Valerie. Their red hair looks like it's glowing as they stand next to each other. His heart skips a beat, but the moment is broken by another scream.

"My dinosaur!"

Another one a second later.

"Lady Sparkle!"

Andrew climbs out of bed, rubbing his face, and meets the worried twins and a frowning Tyler in the hallway.

"What's all that screaming about?"

Tyler asks tiredly, glancing at the upset children and looking suspiciously at Neil and Andrew.

"All the toys are gone. It must be the elf's work", Andrew shrugs indifferently.

Chris gasps.

"He stole them! We need to call the police!"

Neil barely holds back his laughter, hiding his face in Valerie's red hair, who is still sobbing.

"He works for Santa, he's magical," Jim rolls his eyes.

"I suggest we look for clues", Andrew says seriously, heading downstairs.

The children rush after him, filled with excitement.

"My bunny! Daddy, let me go!"

Valerie screams in relief, kicking her legs and trying to break free from Neil's arms to get her pet back as quickly as possible. Neil lets her go and Valerie immediately runs to her rabbit on the table.

"Oh, what's that?"

Valerie exclaims in surprise, turning to her parents. Andrew, remaining unperturbed, raises an eyebrow and nods towards Jim.

"Will you read it?"

Jim nods in agreement and comes closer. Andrew did a good job: the elf was firmly glued to the table with tape, and even his mouth was sealed just as securely. Toys were placed around, candies were scattered chaotically, and a note was lying nearby.

"We caught the Elf. He wanted to eat your candies, but we stopped him. Your toys."

Jim reads aloud, and his serious expression makes Tyler laugh. He takes out his phone to take a photo of the scene as a keepsake.

"Chris, not in the morning!"

Neil is indignant, noticing how his son, while everyone was distracted, rustles candy wrappers and is already stuffing a second candy into his mouth.

"But Lady Sparkle saved them for me!"

Chris makes an important excuse, pointing to his toy, proudly standing next to the captured elf.

"After breakfast", Neil patiently reminds, but then sees Valerie already unwrapping the candy.

"Valerie!"

"But daddy eats them too."

The girl betrays her parent, pointing at Andrew, who deftly hides the bright wrapper in his pocket and indifferently shrugs his shoulders.

"I'm just testing."

Andrew answers, shaking his head slightly towards the elf.

"I don't trust him."

Neil sighs heavily and can't help but smile, looking at the happy children, cheerfully discussing the "heroic capture" of the elf. Even if they now have half a box of candy for breakfast, he decides that it's worth it.

...

They continued to arrange new pranks with the elf every night, coming up with more interesting and funny scenes to surprise the children. All the children. No matter how much Tyler pretended to be an adult, Andrew and Neil could see him waking up just as impatiently as the younger ones. Every morning he would pretend to yawn, but he would still be the first one to peek into the living room to see what the elf had done this time.

They had already thrown things around the rooms, pretending to be chaotic, covered the floor with flour, making "snow", and even painted funny faces on the windows. Neil had once outdone himself by dyeing the cats' tails in Christmas colors - green for Sir and red for King. Andrew's reaction was priceless: his shock and bewilderment were captured in a photo, which Tyler, fortunately, managed to take.

However, after ten days of such fun, Neil woke up in a cold sweat. He fell asleep! God, how could he?! They tried so hard, and now everything is ruined because of his fatigue.

"Andrew, wake up! We forgot about that fucking elf!"

Neil shakes Andrew's shoulder, who doesn't even open his eyes.

"Not we, you", Andrew answers lazily, rolling over. "It's your turn to move him today."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Neil pulls on his T-shirt and runs into the living room in a panic, trying to figure out how to get out of it.

"Papa!"

A sharp scream makes him turn into the nursery. Valerie is standing by the mirror, rubbing her face with her small hands in shock.

"Papa, he got me!"

"Who?"

Neil is surprised, coming closer to her. On the girl's cheeks are visible... snowflakes, drawn with a marker?

"What the...?!"

Neil bends down to wipe the drawings off his daughter's face, but only smears them even more.

"I don't..."

"Me too! Look, Papa!"

Chris pops out of his room, laughing, and points to his cheek, where a snowman is shining. Jim comes out behind him, frowning. There's a huge star on his forehead.

"What's that?!"

"Papa, he drew on you too!", Valerie laughs, pointing to Neil's face.

"What?"

Neil runs to the nearest mirror and sees that there's a gingerbread man with his tongue hanging out drawn on his cheek.

Neil is still blinking in confusion when Andrew comes out of the bedroom. Oh god! There's a fluffy Christmas tree on his cheek, drawn with the same black marker as all the other drawings.

"Looks like an elf found a marker in the night and colored our faces."

Says Tyler, with drawings like a gift on both cheeks. He points behind him.

"It's on my bookshelf. Go and see for yourself!"

The kids run past Tyler, screaming excitedly, to check out his words. Neil smiles with relief, watching them.

"Thanks. I didn't even realize how I fell asleep!"

Neil laughs, looking at Andrew, who is still half awake.

"That was a great idea with the marker, Ty. But how did you get into our room? I thought I closed the door..."

Tyler interrupts his question, grinning and raising his eyebrows.

"Me?"

"Well, it wasn't me."

Neil snorts, but Tyler shakes his head.

"It wasn't me either."

Neil turns to a sleepy Andrew.

"Don't look at me. You think I would dirty my face?", he says seriously.

"Then who?"

Neil asks out loud, but his question remains unanswered. It's late at night and Neil is sitting in the living room, staring at the notorious elf with his sly eyes and wide smile, who seems to be laughing at him.

"Neil, go to bed."

Andrew calls him, pausing near the sofa. But Neil continues to stare at the elf, as if he is hiding some terrible secret.

"I can't."

Neil replies, his voice full of tension.

"You can't be serious."

Andrew snorts, and there is laughter in his voice. He pauses, then sighs heavily and approaches the elf to prove that all this is nothing more than a child's toy. He touches it, pokes his finger right into the elf's smiling plastic face.

"That's it. I've taken away his magic powers, you can sleep soundly."

Andrew says, as if he's just accomplished a great feat.

"My hero", Neil replies mockingly, but there's still relief in his voice.

Later, when Neil is almost asleep, he's suddenly awakened by a quiet whisper right next to his ear.

"It was me."

"I knew that!"

Chapter Text

"This is the best Christmas ever!"

Chris whispers loudly, snuggling into Andrew's warm side, and there is genuine happiness in his voice. The cold air outside freezes his fingers, but they press closer to each other to feel that warmth that only comes from being surrounded by loved ones. Andrew squeezes his arms tighter, hugging not only Chris, but also Jim, who is sitting on the other side. Both press against him, finding comfort and protection in his presence.

The six of them sit on the wooden steps of the porch, sprinkled with snow, as if this is their little corner of peace in the endless chaos of the holidays. Tyler has settled a little lower than the others, so that he can rest his head comfortably on Neil's thigh. His eyes are closed, his face is relaxed, and he seems to enjoy every light touch, while Neil runs the fingers through his hair. Vi, with her arms wrapped around Neil's neck, hangs on him, her hot breath touching his ear, making Neil shiver sometimes.

The winter gloom is already beginning to thicken over the horizon. The sky is painted in deep shades of purple and orange, painting the branches of the trees around the house in bright colors. But the most beautiful of them is this decorated Christmas tree, standing in the center of the yard, all strewn with garlands that shimmer with shining lights. The light softly reflects on the snow, creating a magical picture.
Before going to Aaron, they need some peace and quiet - just spend time together, sit on the porch of their house and enjoy the view.

"When are we going to Sophie's already?"

Vi's voice sounds almost capricious. Her breath tickles Neil again, and he, unable to resist, slightly lifts her, causing her to chuckle.

"Soon", he answers shortly, barely holding back a smile.

But Vi is not happy with this. She clings to him even tighter, like the little monkey that she is. She looks at him with a mixture of hurt and insistence on her face.

"When?", she demands, looking Neil straight in the eye.

"Soon."

Neil answers again, holding back a laugh. Teasing her has become his little pleasure. Vi winces, clearly showing her displeasure, and, throwing an expressive glance at Neil, turns to Andrew.

"Dad?", she asks, hope in her voice.

"In half an hour", Andrew answers calmly.

Neil rolls his eyes, snorting quietly.

"You’re not funny", he notes.

Valerie, still hanging on Neil’s neck, laughs.

"I’m keeping the balance between us", Andrew answers with his usual calm, shrugging slightly.

Chris fidgets in his seat, clearly losing his patience. Every now and then he glances at the yard, where the garlands are twinkling, then at the house, as if expecting something unexpected to appear from there. It’s hard for him to just sit quietly and do nothing. Andrew, noticing his state, lets out a quiet sigh and nods towards the house.

"Go check if we got presents for everyone, and then we’ll go", he suggests.

Chris’s eyes light up with enthusiasm, as if he’s received an incredibly important assignment. He nods vigorously and, getting up, runs into the house. There, near the door, neatly wrapped presents are already standing, sparkling in bright wrappers and ribbons.

Jim watches his brother go, but is in no hurry to get up himself. He’s still comfortably settled, hugging Andrew across his chest, and enjoying the warmth of his embrace. Quietly inhaling the scent of Andrew’s cologne, Jim barely audibly calls.

"Dad?"

"Mm?", Andrew replies, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

"I love you."

The simple words sound so sincere that for a moment time seems to stand still. Jim presses his cheek to Andrew, closing his eyes. Andrew leans down slightly to leave a soft kiss on the top of his son's head.

"And I love you", he replies with quiet confidence.

"And me?"

Vi's voice rings out, immediately reaching for Andrew. She pushes away from Neil and moves closer, clinging to Andrew with her arms. Andrew gently catches her with his freed arm, sitting her on his lap, still hugging Jim.

"Of course, you too. So much," he assures.

"And I love you! A kiss?

Vi asks with such childlike spontaneity, and Andrew can't help but smile slightly. He leans down, allowing her to reach. Vi pecks him on the cheek with a loud "mwah!"

"And I love you!"

Neil intervenes, smiling widely. He cups Tyler's face where he lies in his lap and begins to pepper his cheeks and forehead with kisses.

Tyler lets out a quiet laugh, but doesn't even try to break away. His face lights up with joy, and he looks genuinely happy.

"Already so grown up."

Neil quietly remarks, sighing involuntarily. His gaze warms, but there is a slight sadness in it. He can't help but notice how quickly Tyler is growing.

When he and Andrew first met him two years ago, Tyler was a skinny and withdrawn teenager, almost as tall as Andrew and as wary as Neil had been in his younger years. But in the last two years, he has changed so much. Whether it was the care they surrounded him with, or the love he received from them every day, Tyler seemed to blossom. He grew up quickly, outstripping both of them by a whole head. And the twins, Chris and Jim, were clearly not going to lag behind their older brother.

"Come on, Papa!"

Tyler's voice sounds soft, without a hint of irritation.

"What? Am I wrong? You can’t even celebrate Christmas with your family anymore."

Neil answers with a deep sigh, but there’s still a slight smile on his lips.

"But you don’t mind, right?"

Ty asks quietly, frowning a little.

"I can…"

"Neil isn’t serious", Andrew interrupts.

"You can celebrate Christmas however you want."

Andrew adds. His voice sounds deliberately indifferent, but a smile can be discerned at the corners of his lips. Neil only shrugs, looking at his son.

"Yeah, but… I can miss you, can't I?"

"I’ll come in the morning", Tyler assures, a little more confident.

"I know", Neil responds. "But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ll miss you."

Tyler stands up, straightening up, and wraps his arms around Neil’s shoulders.

"You're getting old and melodramatic", he mutters, shaking his head.

"You...!"

Neil laughs, scooping up a handful of soft, fluffy snow and throwing it at Tyler without really aiming.

The snow slams into the side of his jacket, leaving a white stain, but Tyler deftly dodges the second throw.

"Run, Ty!"

Vi lets out a loud, infectious laugh as she jumps to her feet, ready to join the snow attack.

But Tyler, contrary to expectations, doesn't run. Instead, he falls straight into the snow.

"Snow angel!"

He screams, waving his arms and legs.

"Snow angel!"

Chris joins in, appearing behind them. His cheeks are hot from the cold, but his face is filled with pure joy. Without thinking, he lunges forward, landing next to his older brother and immediately starts making his own figure.

"Dad, can we go?"

Jim asks quietly, touching Andrew’s shoulder, and Andrew gives in. Neil and Vi exchange glances.

"Well then", Neil sighs, but the smile never leaves his face. "Why not?"

He lies down next to Tyler, Vi settles down nearby, and within moments, all six of them are waving their arms and legs, creating a chaotic but happy field of snow angels.

...

"Don’t drink too much, don’t do drugs, and don’t… well, that’s all I think."

Neil says with feigned calm, looking at Tyler, who already seems to be half in another world, mentally sitting in the car with his friends.

"We’ll keep an eye on him!"

Tessa’s ringing voice comes from the car window. She leaned out halfway, waving her hand as if her words weren't just a promise, but an actual vow.

Andrew gives her his signature look—slightly raised eyebrows and an unimpressed expression.

"Who would keep an eye on you?", he says dryly.

"That's true, too."

Tessa laughs, not offended for a second. Her new piercing, a small silver ring above her upper lip, sways slightly, reflecting the light from the streetlights.

Tyler turns back to Neil.

"It'll be okay", he says with absolute certainty. "I promise: no accidents."

"Okay", Neil sighs, waving his hand. "Have fun."

Andrew steps forward, wordlessly hugging his son and handing him a neatly wrapped package.

"From me and Neil", he says quietly. "You can open it later, with the rest of the presents."

"Thank you", Tyler immediately hugs Andrew back. "My presents for you are at Neil’s."

Tyler, full of enthusiasm, runs to the car, where his friends happily greet him. Andrew turns to the rest, loudly saying.

"What are we waiting for? Everyone in the car!"

The drive to Aaron’s house is short, but for Neil it stretches out to infinity. He is seriously considering banging his head against the glass, just to distract himself from the children’s questions. Only one thing consoles him — he and Andrew have not seen the age of the twins’ tireless "why" questions.

"Why is the snow cold?"

Vi suddenly asks, looking out the window. Her voice is completely serious. Jim, sitting next to him, answers with unexpected enthusiasm, as if this question is incredibly interesting.

"Snow forms in the upper atmosphere, where the temperature is much lower than at the earth's surface. Drops of water freeze, turning into snowflakes, and, remaining in this state, reach the ground."

Andrew, sitting in the front seat, takes a quick look at the rearview mirror and grunts.

"Eh?"

Vi frowns, clearly not satisfied with such a complicated explanation.

"Because it's cold outside."

Neil intervenes, shortening the explanation to something understandable.

"Oh, I see."

Vi nods, but her eyes show that she still doubts. A couple of minutes later, she asks the next, no less important question.

"How can Santa bring everyone presents in one night?"

Neil remembers how this question once interested him. Then he read several interesting articles that explained it from the point of view of science fiction.

"It's easy", Neil begins with a slight smile.

"Santa moves at a speed close to the speed of light. Imagine: at a speed of 300 thousand kilometers per second, he can go around the Earth seven times in one second."

"Magic", Andrew cuts off, not letting Vi fall into despair from all these complex answers.

The girl thoughtfully nods, accepting the answer, and turns her head to the window, checking if they have arrived yet.

"Will Sophie be there, dad?"

She asks, swinging her legs back and forth.

"Since she lives there, yes", Andrew replies, holding back a smile.

Aaron’s house is, as always, full of life and people. Laughter, conversation, the smell of baking—it all blends into a cozy chaos that Andrew, though he doesn’t show it, gets satisfaction from. He’s quietly glad that they’re celebrating here and not at their house. To survive all these people in one place with no way to escape? No thanks. Although, of course, Andrew has no plans to go anywhere, but the fact that there are escape routes pleasantly calms him.

"Vi!"

A ringing scream cuts through the general noise, and before anyone can react, Sophie runs into Vi, opening her arms as she goes.

Andrew watches her with a slight smile. Sophie is so grown up now—almost eight years old—but to him, she’s still a little girl whose hair he just wants to ruffle. He does this, of course, passing by.

"Uncle Andrew, no!"

Sophie cries out, indignantly moving away.

"You'll ruin my hair!"

"Sorry."

He says peacefully, and, smiling slightly, fixes her hair. Sophie immediately softens, replacing indignation with a radiant smile.

"I missed you!", she declares, hugging him around the waist.

"And what about me?"

Chris asks, throwing off his boots right next to the door. They fall into an untidy pile next to his coat, and Neil immediately throws him a stern look, pointing out the mess. Chris, rolling his eyes, picks up his boots from the floor, sighing quietly.

"No!"

Sophie cuts him off, sticking her tongue out at him. She immediately grabs Vi by the hand and pulls her towards a large Christmas tree, which is lit up with multi-colored lights.

Jim, standing next to her, smiles faintly. He silently takes a book out of his backpack, clearly making it clear that he has other plans for the evening. He didn’t really miss the company and was going to spend this time alone.

"Sophie, wait!"

Chris shouts. He understands that Jim has gone into "reader" mode and there’s no getting him out of it. And spending the evening alone is the last thing he wants. Sophie no longer pays attention to him, enthusiastically showing Vi the top of the tree.

"Look! I hung the star! See how high it is?"

Chris stops to the side, snorting in displeasure.

"The tree sucks! Who hangs the same decorations next to each other on the same branch?"

He shouts after her, folding his arms over the chest.

Sophie only laughs louder, and Neil, watching this, barely holds back a smile, looking at Andrew.

"It really sucks", Andrew mutters under his breath, shrugging.

Chris turns to Neil, looking disappointed.

"When's Aunt Dan going to have a baby? I need a brother!"

Neil can't help but snort, smiling at this statement, but before he can say anything, Matt appears in the hallway, wiping his hands on a towel.

"Soon, buddy."

He replies with his usual friendly smile.

"But he won't be able to play with you for a while. You'll have to be patient."

"That's exactly what I don't have!"

Chris huffs, frowning. He stomps heavily after his sisters, showing with all his appearance how tired he is of waiting.

"Ask Santa about it next year!"

Nicky shouts, peeking out from behind the door with a wide grin.

But Chris can't hear him anymore. He sees his favorite person in the world walking toward them and immediately rushes to him.

"Grandpa!", he cries joyfully, throwing his arms wide.

David smiles and scoops up his grandson. At that moment, the rest of the world simply ceases to exist for Chris.

"You are late", Nicky notes, frowning slightly, but his voice is warm.

"We were making snow angels", Neil replies with a slight shrug.

"So we’re setting the table, cleaning up, and running around like crazy, and you’ve been rolling around in the snow?"

There’s a familiar hint of mockery in Allison’s voice. She stands in the doorway, arms folded, eyes narrowed.

"And we’re glad to see you, too."

Andrew snorts dryly as he passes, but quickly shakes Matt's hand as he goes, and wraps his arm around Nicky's shoulders as he goes to find Aaron.

Matt reaches out to Neil, giving him a big, warm hug and a pat on the back.

"Oh, I've missed you", he says with his usual enthusiasm.

"And I need all the advice you can give me about kids!"

Neil grins and hugs him back.

"You know we’ve never had a baby, right?", he reminds her, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Ask Aaron."

"I've already asked", Matt sighs, rolling his eyes. "He just smiled creepily and shook his head."

...

The evening is filled with warmth and easy conversation among the family. They discuss their flights and share the latest news from work. Light laughter and the clink of dishes create a cozy background that invites one to forget about time. No one even notices how the evening flies by until, as if on cue, the children begin to yawn. Vi is the first to give in.

"Neil, your daughter is sleeping with her face in mashed potatoes."

Andrew calmly informs, setting his glass down and nodding in her direction with a grin. Neil glances at his daughter. And indeed, Vi buried her forehead in the plate and now is quietly snoring.

"Actually, she’s your daughter too", Neil raises an eyebrow.

"When she does something like that, she’s exclusively yours. I have nothing to do with it", Andrew snaps, still unperturbed.

Neil rolls his eyes, but still gets up. He knows that waking Vi up is wasting of time. Even if she opens her eyes, she’ll fall asleep right away. He and Andrew joke that she’s clearly Kevin’s long-lost daughter, who also still can’t wake up in the morning.

Neil picks Vi up and looks at Jim. He’s sitting lazily at the table, holding a book in his hands. One of his eyes is closed, but the other is still stubbornly sliding along the lines.

"Jim", Neil calls him, shifting Vi more comfortably.

"Just a little bit more."

Jim mutters, not looking up from his book.

"That's time for bed."

"There’s only a page left in the chapter", he answers with a little stubbornness.

"Neil, be human."

David joins in, smiling that kind smile that only a father of many children has.

"Let the kid finish reading."

Neil sighs and looks at Chris and Sophie, who are sitting at the table, surrounded by a mountain of candy wrappers.

"Chris, let’s go", he says, but before he can answer, Aaron intervenes.

"Neil, maybe you could take mine, too? One more child, one less — what difference does it make?"

A loud laugh is heard around the table, and Neil, shaking his head, turns to Sophie.

"Come on, Sophie. I think I’m the only one taking care of you here."

Putting the kids to bed turns out to be easier than he thought. They are old enough to wash themselves, and Valerie is too sleepy and tired to make a scene about it. She obediently opens her mouth for the toothbrush while Neil washes her. Usually they teach her to do everything herself, but now she can barely stand on her feet.

When all four of them are in the nursery, Neil breathes a sigh of relief.

"Okay, everyone, go to bed. The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner Christmas will come."

"Oh..."

Chris begins, but Neil doesn't let him finish, turning off the light.

Vi is already asleep next to Sophie, and the twins are settling down on the pre-inflated mattress.

"If you don't fall asleep, Santa won't be able to fly in and leave presents."

As soon as Chris hears about Santa, he immediately closes his eyes, as if he wants to prove that he is already asleep. But judging by the way his arms move to the sides and his quiet snores, he really does pass out almost instantly. Jim frowns at the sounds, but remains silent - he is used to it. But Sophie looks at her brother in shock, as if she has only just realized what awaits her this night. Fortunately, she is also too tired for the day. Her eyes slowly close, and in a minute the room becomes quiet.

"Good night."

Neil whispers, leaving the nursery and closing the door behind him.

...

A night in a house full of loved ones feels surprisingly familiar, as if all these years of separation had not happened. The quiet rustle of the wind outside the window, someone's snoring and the breathing of peacefully sleeping children create such a homely atmosphere that Neil involuntarily smiles. He turns his head to Andrew, lying next to him, and whispers.

"All together, like before in the dorm, huh? And we're twenty again?"

Andrew does not open his eyes, but the corner of his lips rises in a barely noticeable smile.

"I'm still young."

"You’re thirty-seven."

Neil shakes his head, but his voice is soft and non-judgmental.

"I’m in my prime", Andrew retorts lazily.

"Yeah, whatever", Neil chuckles quietly, settling into a comfortable position.

The house comes alive with the first rays of the sun. The children’s joyful cries echo through the hallways as they realize that Christmas has arrived. The noise grows louder, and Neil and Andrew, accustomed to this chaos, join in the general commotion.

In the living room, children and adults are sitting on the floor, surrounded by colorful boxes and sparkling wrappers. Laughter and joyful cries sound almost louder than the crackling of paper.

"Dad, look!!!"

Sophie cries happily, holding up her present - a makeup kit for kids. Andrew turns his frowning gaze to Aaron, who only laughs and shrugs.

"Oh, wow!"

Vi gasps, looking over her sister's shoulder and curiously examining the palette with bright shadows.

"Dad, I want..."

"Oh, no."

Andrew clicks his tongue quietly, moving closer. He deftly intercepts his daughter's attention, handing Vi her own gift.

"Look what Santa brought you."

Vi is distracted as she opens her package. Under the wrapping is a small Exy stick, the perfect size for her tiny hands. Vi's eyes light up and she immediately screams.

"Dad! Look!"

She runs up to Neil, shaking the stick before his face. Andrew nods, looking pleased.

"And no makeup until you're thirty."

Neil can't help but laugh, catching Kevin's stunned gaze. In the corner, Renee and Allison can be heard quietly laughing.

"At least one of Neil's kids is into sports", Renee whispers with a smile.

Vi is already on her feet, jumping up and down, shaking Neil's sleeve.

"Let's go play Exy!"

Neil scoops her up and spins her around in the air.

"In a minute. Chris and Jim haven't opened their presents yet."

Valerie nods impatiently, but wraps her arms around Neil's neck, pleased and happy. Jim carefully unwraps his present, and his eyes light up when he sees the e-reader.

"Thank you!"

He exclaims, looking at Neil and Andrew with genuine joy.

"This is exactly what I wanted!"

He immediately begins to examine the device, pressing buttons and looking through settings, so engrossed that he almost stops noticing what's going on around him.

Chris rips open the packaging, pulling out a brand-new gaming console, and his cry of delight is heard over the noise of the room. Almost immediately, Chris is tugging at his uncle's sleeve, begging him to help him hook it up to the TV.

"And now the presents from your Grandpa!"

Wymack announces happily, clapping his hands to get the kids' attention.

...

*Behind the scenes*

The half-empty mall is bathed in soft morning light. The sun is just beginning to rise outside the wide windows of the mall, and inside you can hear the quiet rustle of footsteps and the creaking of the cart that Andrew is pushing. His face is always frowning, and his eyes are fixed forward, as if he is going to battle. Neil is walking next to him, too cheerful for such an early hour, holding a piece of paper with a shopping list in his neat handwriting.

"Remind me why we came here at eight in the morning?"

Andrew asks, gloomily looking around the rows of stores that are starting to open.

"Because in a couple of hours there will be a crowd here, and you will grumble even more."

Neil answers, quickly checking the list without slowing down.

"I’m not grumbling."

Andrew grumbles, which immediately causes Neil to roll his eyes.

"Sure", he chuckles.

Andrew lets out a short sigh of exasperation, his fingers tightening on the handle of the cart.

"Okay, where do we start?", he gives in.

"With a gift for Vi."

Neil suggests, but is immediately met with a categorical answer.

"No."

"Why not?", he asks, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"Because the Exy section is a death sentence. You'll be stuck there for an hour, minimum."

"You're in no hurry anyway."

"I'm in a hurry to finish this as quickly as possible so I don't have to be here."

Andrew snaps, turning the cart toward the electronics store. Neil grins and walks easily after him.

"Okay. Then we'll start with an e-reader for Jim and a game console for Chris."

"And a phone for Tyler", Andrew adds, casually glancing at the shelves.

"Great, убьём трёх зайцев одним выстрелом"¹, Neil concludes.

"It’s too early for Russian proverbs", Andrew mutters, wincing.

Neil ignores him and runs his eyes down the list again.

"Then we’ll have to get something for Aaron and Nicky."

"And Allison", Andrew reminds him, not hiding his irritation. "And Wymack."

"And Kevin", Neil adds, folding the list in half. "But we’ll do that when we go pick up Vi’s present."

Andrew gives him a hard look, but says nothing, knowing there’s no point in arguing.

"What about Sophie?", he asks suddenly.

"What did she want?"

Andrew tries to remember, frowning.

"Something weird. Some kind of furry little animal that makes weird noises."

"Great. That means we’ll have to go to the toy department anyway", Neil concludes.

"Damn it", Andrew breathes out, exasperated. "We'll be here until lunch."

"Then I'll buy you coffee. And a doughnut", Neil says conciliatorily, clapping him on the shoulder.

Andrew narrows his eyes and looks at him with an expression that could almost be described as grateful.

"My hero."

He mutters, and abruptly pushes the cart forward, heading for the electronics department.

The day is just beginning.

...

¹ Kill three birds with one stone.

Chapter Text

"Neil, Vi!"

Andrew calls, opening the door to the yard, and stops for a moment, looking at the picture that opened up before him. He even forgets why he opened the door in the first place.

Neil is standing at the goal, wearing only a light sweatshirt, no coat, but winter boots. His face is focused, and he is holding the Exy stick tightly in his hands. Right in front of him is Vi, who is already ready to throw, her face serious and focused. Her scarf is lying somewhere in a snowdrift, and her hat is askew so that her bright red pigtails are sticking out in different directions.

The stick turned out to be a little heavy, but Valerie stubbornly carries it with her everywhere, except for the fact that she doesn’t take it to bed, and for that she is grateful. From the tension, she stuck out the tip of her tongue, aiming.

"Hurray!"

Her scream breaks the silence when the ball crashes into the goal with a deafening blow, and the goal begins to glow, demonstrating a clearly unequal and completely inconsistent with the truth score.
Even if Neil had been blind, he wouldn't have missed so much, certainly not with Valerie, who had just picked up a stick. He and Neil had argued for a long time about whether or not to give her such gift. But Neil certainly wasn't upset when Vi asked him to write to Santa about the Exy stick. Andrew was ready to swear that he saw Neil crying while writing a letter for Santa. Well, how could Andrew refuse both of them when they looked at him like two ginger cats from Shrek? Andrew wasn't made of stone. At least he was glad that Exy fever had passed their sons by, leaving their house intact a little longer. Literally, in the couple of days after Christmas, Andrew had already lost a floor lamp and a Chinese vase, and Neil had to replace cracked glass in photo frames twice. And yet Andrew couldn't help but be happy when he saw his only daughter enjoying playing ball with her father.

"You goul again! You have talent!"

Valerie laughs happily as Neil picks her up and throws her into the air.

"Daddy, did you see how I played? Papa said I have talent! I'm going to be like him, playing Exy when I grow up!"

She screams as she walks towards him. Her face is glowing with happiness. Andrew, watching this moment, smiles softly, his eyes full of tenderness. He picks her up and hugs her.

"Do you think I can do it?"

Valerie asks, and Andrew already knows the answer. He strokes her head and answers with complete confidence.

"You can do anything you want."

Andrew is sure that she will be happy, no matter whether Exy becomes her future or she chooses something completely different. But one thing is for sure - she will know that she can always count on them. Always.

"We’ll sign you up for the team when you go to school", Andrew promises, looking at Valerie with a small smile.

Vi immediately tilts her head to the side, her face taking on a serious expression, as if she’s considering a difficult decision.

"Will you play with me?", she asks hopefully. "Papa misses all the goals."

Andrew glances quickly at Neil, who’s just shaking the snow off his Exy stick. He pretends not to hear them.

"I will. Tomorrow", Andrew promises.

If Kevin only knew what kind of power this three-year-old girl had, he would have used it to convince Andrew to come back to the sport. And Andrew would come back. Somewhere deep inside, he knows that he would do anything for his family.

Valerie smiles widely, revealing one of her missing front teeth. Andrew sighs heavily.

"Where’s the tooth?"

"At Papa’s!", Vi answers cheerfully, settling comfortably in his arms.

Andrew glances at Neil, who lifts his hand to show Andrew a small white tooth clenched between his fingers.

"Why isn't it in its place?"

Andrew asks suspiciously, wincing at the sight of this small "trophy".

"Well... because!", Valerie shrugs, as if it were obvious.

Andrew nods in understanding.

"Got it."

He helps her take off her shoes, carefully placing them by the threshold, and nods towards the stairs.

"The clothes are on the bed. Go get changed. I'll be there in a minute. I need to talk to your father."

"Okay!"

Valerie runs upstairs. Andrew slowly turns to Neil, who makes the most innocent expression on his face, barely noticing his gaze.

"I need to talk to your father."

Neil repeats slowly in a low voice and makes a terrible grimace.

"Should I be scared already?"

"It depends on your answer."

Andrew says, crossing his arms over the chest. He sounds like he's in court, interrogating a suspect.

"Did you knock out our daughter's tooth?"

Neil snorts like that's the most absurd thing he's ever heard.

"You're so strict", he says sarcastically, then sighs in resignation. "No, it wasn't me."

"Neil", Andrew's voice is warning.

"Honestly, I didn't!"

Neil shakes his head as he takes off his shoes and heads into the living room.

"She fell face first into the golf club. Come on, it's just a tooth."

Andrew stands still as Neil easily falls onto the couch, his feet up on the armrest.

"At least now we can teach her how mice work", he adds with a smirk, not taking his eyes off the ceiling.

Andrew frowns.

"What the hell, mice?"

Neil pretends not to notice his tone.

"The ones that collect teeth and leave coins under your pillow."

"There are no mice. The wizarding world has a monopoly on the tooth trade. There is only the tooth fairy."

Andrew snaps, as if the matter were long settled. Neil grins and shakes his head.

"Whatever you say."

"Dad, I'm ready!"

Chris's clear voice echoes through the house as he runs downstairs, taking the stairs two at a time.

"Let's go?"

"In five minutes. Keep yourself busy."

Chris rolls his eyes, but doesn't argue, heading for the couch where his backpack is already lying on. He starts sorting through his things, checking to see if he's forgotten anything, and occasionally casting impatient glances at the stairs.

Andrew sighs and goes upstairs. They're teaching Valerie to dress herself, of course, but sometimes buttons or zippers prove too difficult for her. He knocks on her door and peeks inside.

"Are you ready?"

He asks, seeing Valerie fumbling with the zipper on her sweater.

"Almost there, Dad!"

Andrew comes up silently, carefully adjusts the collar of the sweater and helps her zip it up.

"That's it, now I'm definitely ready", Valerie happily declares and runs out of the room.

Andrew knocks on Tyler's door, then calls Jim and goes downstairs.

"Tell me something", Neil says, lazily stretching out on the couch and looking at his son.

Chris immediately perks up. His eyes light up, and his voice becomes loud and emotional.

"Oh! Papa, did you know that during a mountain expedition, the Indian army first noticed the mysterious foot steps of the mythical creature Yeti?"

Neil frowns, but is clearly interested.

"Really? Where was it?"

"Near the Makalu base, in the Himalayas!", Chris continues, gesturing vigorously. "The steps were huge!"

Neil whistles theatrically. Valerie jumps up and down.

"I want to go to the Himalayas and find the Yeti! Let's go there!"

Andrew snorts, putting on his coat.

"Sure. What a great idea. Let's have a family camping trip."

Valerie doesn't catch the sarcasm and continues to enthusiastically talk about how she's going to take a thermos of cocoa and cookies with her to treat the Yeti when she finds him. Neil looks at her with such warmth, as if he's never heard anything better.

...

"So, don't fall, don't break your arms or legs, and take care of your fingers."

Neil's voice is confident and a little stern, like a coach explaining the rules to newbies.

"What?"

Jim frowns, looking up from the laces he's busily tying on his skates. Neil shrugs, as if it were obvious.

"If you fall, you clench your fists so that no stranger riding by can cut them off."

Chris blinks, clearly trying to figure out if Neil is joking. But before he can ask, Tyler, already ready to go out on the ice, shrugs and adds calmly.

"And if he does cut it off, it's okay."

"What?!"

Jim looks at him with pure horror now.

"The cut will be smooth, and the ice will keep it alive."

Tyler continues, as if he were explaining how to cook pasta.

"So they'll just sew them back on."

"The main thing is to keep your gloves on."

Andrew nods calmly, sitting next to them and lacing up his skates.

The younger kids fall silent, looking at the adults with expressions of mild panic. Valerie, sitting off to the side, slowly pulls off her gloves and examines her tiny fingers, as if checking to make sure they're still there.

Neil looks at Andrew and Tyler with amusement.

"You watch too many medicine shows. Too many."

Tyler stands up, balancing easily on his skates, and heads toward the ice rink. His movements convey the confidence of someone who's been here for hours.

"Okay, Ty", Neil watches him go, then turns to Andrew. "He comes here with his friends. How do you know how to skate?"

Andrew pauses for a moment, then answers briefly and clearly.

"Nicky."

Neil and Tyler nod in understanding, as if that explains everything. Andrew doesn't elaborate, but there's a slight note of nostalgia in his voice, as if he's thinking back to the days when Nicky taught him how to skate.

"Okay, let's go, show us what Nicky taught you."

The rink is awash in lights. Bright garlands strung over the ice rink are reflected in the perfectly smooth surface of the ice, still creating a festive atmosphere. The air is filled with the smell of hot chocolate and cinnamon, coming from a nearby tent with treats. The laughter of children, the quiet conversations of parents and the sound of skates sliding on the ice all blend together.

Andrew confidently skates around in a circle, as if the ice is his second home. He watches the twins out of the corner of his eye, who are mastering skating at an incredible speed for their first time. Chris, who at first clung uncertainly to the sides, is already moving on his own after a couple of minutes. His legs are still shaking a little, and he sometimes loses his balance, but with each passing minute he becomes more confident.

"Good job", Andrew praises, following him at a short distance, ready to support him if necessary.

Chris turns around every now and then to check if his brother is keeping up with him. Jim keeps up with his brother and father, carefully imitating their every move.

A little further away, Tyler holds Vi’s hands. She squeals happily as he carefully skates her across the ice. Valerie is frozen in place, afraid to move her legs, so Tyler has to literally drag her, moving them in sync and encouraging her when she gets scared by another sudden movement. Her ringing laughter is incredibly infectious, and Tyler smiles in a way that he only knows how to do at such moments - warmly and sincerely.

Andrew, noticing how Neil crashes onto the ice again with a crash, stops and skates towards him with a raised eyebrow. Neil is sitting on the ice, awkwardly rubbing his thigh after another fall. Andrew folds his arms over his chest and looks at him with a familiar expression of mild reproach.

"You're an athlete", he says, not hiding the irony in his voice. "Shouldn't you have good coordination?"

"I should", Neil replies, pulling his legs closer. "Apparently today is not my day."

"And how come you haven't been kicked off the team yet?", Andrew offers him his hand. "Get up, I'll teach you."

Neil grabs his hand and struggles to his feet. His skates stubbornly slide to the sides, forcing him to balance as if on a fine line. Andrew, as calm as ever, easily holds him until he finds relative balance.

"First, you need to learn how to stand."

Andrew says this simply, without unnecessary words, but in a tone that does not allow for objections. He slightly narrows his eyes, as if trying to assess the readiness of his student.

"Bend your legs. The center of gravity should be lower."

"Is it as simple as you say now?"

Neil tries to joke, but his voice still sounds tense.

"If you listened, it would be easier", Andrew chuckles. "Come on, concentrate."

Neil throws him a meaningful look, but still obeys. He bends his knees, feeling his weight distribute evenly, and takes a careful step. Andrew, still holding his elbow, gently corrects his movement.

"That's better. Again."

At this time, Chris and Jim drive up to them. Jim calls out proudly.

"Look, Papa! I'm riding myself!"

He confidently rides a few meters, though he almost falls on the turn, but then quickly regains his balance. Chris follows him.

"And I can do even faster!"

Andrew grins, nodding in their direction.

"You're doing great, but don't forget to be careful."

"Okay, Dad!", Chris responds and rushes forward again.

Neil watches them, not hiding his smile.

"Now, concentrate. Come on, try again."

Neil sighs quietly, but catches Andrew's gaze, which is both stern and caring. He bends his legs again, feeling how it becomes easier. The ice no longer seems like an enemy to him, and although his movements are still awkward, progress is already obvious.

His gaze was riveted on Andrew's concentrated face. At this moment, Neil thinks only about how much he loves this man.

Neil looks away, noticing the twins, who are already confidently playing tag on the ice. Then his gaze stops on Tyler and Vi, who are circling nearby.

"Don't get distracted."

Andrew's voice brings Neil back to reality.

...

*BONUS*

The snow slide is in full swing. Joyful cries of children are heard everywhere, sleds flash here and there, like multi-colored lightning, sliding down the snowy slope. Children in winter jackets and hats are running up and down. The air is filled with laughter, a slight frost, and the spirit of real winter fun.

Chris stands at the bottom of the hill, his eyes wide. His excitement is almost tangible, and he keeps looking back at Neil.

"Papa, let’s go! Let’s go!", he insists, dancing in place.

Neil grins, looking at the high hill, and nods excitedly.

"Let’s go to the very top?", suggests Ty, also captivated by the view.

Vi glances warily at the top, her lips already trembling.

"I don’t want to go there", she mutters quietly.

"Neither do I", Jim supports her, taking a step back. He presses himself closer to Andrew. "I’ll get sick again."

Andrew looks at them, then at the mountain, and chuckles briefly.

"We’ll split up", he suggests, glancing at Neil. "You go up with Ty and Chris, and we’ll skate down below."

Neil nods, smiling.

"Deal."

...

Andrew sits down on the big sled, pulling Vi in front of him so she can hold on. Her eyes are shining with excitement.

"Everything's gonna be okay", Andrew says in a low, confident voice as they begin to slide down slowly.

They're not picking up speed, so the descent isn't scary at all. Vi initially squeezes Andrew's hands as hard as she can, but when she feels like Dad has it under control, she starts laughing. As soon as they reach the end, she jumps to her feet, throwing her arms out to the sides.

"Again!", she screams.

Jim slides down right after them and comes closer, offering.

"Let's do it together?"

Andrew breathes out in relief, rubbing his shoulder tiredly.

"Okay", he says, squinting slightly. "I'll catch you at the bottom. Jim, just hold on tight."

"Sure!", Jim nods with full responsibility, grabbing his sister's hand.

Chris, Ty, and Neil drive past at full speed, screaming. The sled picks up speed and they bounce around the sharp turns. Ty is the first one on the sled, catching snow with his open mouth. They have Chris in the middle, his face already bright red from the wind, but he is laughing the loudest. Neil is at the very end, his arms wrapped around both of them so that no one falls out along the way.

When they hit a small snowdrift, the sled bounces in the air and the three of them fly apart. Neil falls into a snowdrift, but immediately gets to his feet, shaking snow off himself.

"Everyone alive?", he shouts, laughing.

Chris jumps up after him.

"Yeah! That was awesome!", he shouts, looking at Andrew, who is watching them. "Dad, did you see that?"

Andrew nods, grinning.

"You bet."

Ty rolls over onto his back with a groan.

"Ty, are you okay?", Neil calls him.

"I'm not sure", he pulls, but still grabs Neil's outstretched hand and gets up.

"Well, again?", Neil asks with sincere joy in his voice.

"Yes!", Chris has already grabbed the sled and, without waiting for an answer, runs up. "Now I want to go first!"

"Whoever gets there first, gets to sit in front!", Ty shouts and runs after his brother, overtaking him.

"Not fair!", Chris is indignant, rushing in pursuit.

Andrew watches them with a grin.

"You can't tell he's seventeen", he mutters.

But Neil is no longer listening. He also grabs his sled and rushes after the children, shouting.

"I'm going first!"

Andrew shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. He grins, looking after his husband with a familiar calm and love.

"What an idiot."

...

*BONUS 2*

On a deserted road framed by snow-covered trees, Andrew holds the wheel confidently. His gaze slides every now and then to the rearview mirror, where Chris and Jim are sitting on a tube, clinging tightly to it.

"Ready?", he shouts, leaning out of the slightly open window.

"Yep!", a joyful cry is heard in response.

Andrew presses the gas, increasing speed, and drives, carefully checking every movement.

"Hold on tight!"

Neil speaks loudly, standing to the side, holding a phone in his hands. The camera is aimed at the squealing boys, whose faces are distorted in joyful grimaces.

Andrew confidently turns the wheel, driving in smooth circles. The tubes attached to the car spin around, twisting slightly as they turn, but the kids hold on. Chris and Jim bounce over every bump, their screams echoing around them.

Tyler stands next to Neil, clutching Vi close as she waves cheerfully at her brothers.

"Wanna try it?", Neil glances over his shoulder, grinning.

"Oh, no thanks", Ty snorts, tossing Vi higher and catching her back. "Vi and I are just going to watch, huh?"

"Yeah!", his sister agrees, laughing.

Andrew brakes gently, and the tube slows until the twins spill out into the snow, their hands finally unclenching. They lie there, arms outstretched, like little snow angels, breathing hard but still laughing.

"Awesome!", Chris cries, rolling over onto his side. "That was so cool!"

Jim is in full support.

"Again!"

But their excitement is interrupted by Neil, who turns off the recording and, putting his phone in his pocket, waves his hand at Andrew.

"Now it's my turn."

Andrew, who has been watching the proceedings with restraint all this time, looks out the window and, slightly bowing his head, measures Neil with a narrowed gaze. Then his lips stretch into a cheeky grin.

"Get in", he says teasingly. "I'll give you a joy ride."

Chapter Text

The twins' first grade was a real event for them. Literally - they threw a whole party for this occasion. For some, finishing kindergarten and entering elementary school is a normal thing, but not for their family. Not after everything they had to go through together.

That day will remain in their memory for a long time: there was music playing, a barbecue was being prepared, a huge cake was on the table. All their relatives and friends gathered to celebrate this important moment. The atmosphere was so joyful and warm that no one even thought about what trials awaited them ahead.

Homework.

The horror of all parents, which sometimes turns out to be harder for them than for the children themselves. Five math problems, ten pages of English, a poem to learn, and don't forget about the drawing for art class. Oh, right, and multiply all that by two.

Tyler is old enough to handle his homework on his own. Only occasionally does he ask Andrew to ask him about memorized material or Neil to help with French and math. There were times when he even called Kevin to discuss a history project. But overall, Tyler was independent.

Neither Neil nor Andrew had any idea what was in store for them with the twins.

"Dad, I'm done! Will you check?"

Andrew looks up from the urgent paperwork he was about to fill out and wearily looks at Jim, who hands him a notebook.

"And your other dad?"

Jim shrugs.

"He's busy. Will you help?"

A small smile flashes across Andrew's face, at least some excuse to take a break from the monotony of work.

"Sure, did you do everything?"

He asks, taking the notebook and quickly running his eyes over the neat lines.

This is math. Andrew has never been great at it, but his knowledge is still enough for first-grade problems. However, as soon as letters or complex fractions appear here, he will immediately pass the baton to Neil.

"Yes, everything!"

Jim nods, although there is a slight uncertainty in his voice, as if he is trying to remember - is it sure that he forgot everything.

Andrew peers at the problems and proudly notes that there are indeed no mistakes.

"Well done! Everything is correct. Pack your backpack for tomorrow, and you can go play."

Jim beams with praise, as if he won the main prize, and happily runs upstairs. Andrew reluctantly returns to his papers, deciding that now he can calmly finish the work.

But not for long.

"Dad?"

Andrew looks up again. Jim is standing in front of him, looking a little confused now.

"Yeah?"

Jim bites his lip, as if choosing his words, and glances towards the stairs.

"I think Papa needs your help..."

Andrew sighs heavily, immediately understanding what is being said.

"Is he helping Chris with his homework again?"

Jim nods.

"Okay."

Andrew closes the folder, realizing that he won't be able to work today anyway.

"What is it this time?"

"Maths", Jim answers, and Andrew winces slightly.

They go upstairs together and Andrew looks at his son questioningly.

"How bad is it?"

"Papa has already gotten to the point of visual examples", Jim tells him innocently.

Andrew chuckles discreetly. This means that Neil has tried to explain the tasks to Chris verbally, but to no avail, and has now resorted to more creative methods. They all know from experience that this will not lead to anything good.

"Okay, I'll handle this myself. You go play."

Andrew can't help but ruffle Jim's hair and takes a deep breath before opening the door to the nursery. The room is in a quiet panic: Neil is standing at the table waving something, apparently trying to imitate the "objective example" and Chris is sitting with the most miserable expression on his face in the world. Andrew freezes in the doorway, watching them.

"Well, how many do you have, then?"

"Five?"

Chris's voice is shaking, and tears are about to spill from his eyes. He blinks rapidly, trying to hold back, while Neil lets out a resigned groan and waves his crayons in the air again.

"Well, what do you mean five?"

He almost screams, trying to maintain his patience.

"Look, we only have five pencils, if we take away three, how many are left?"

"I don't understand, Papa."

Chris frowns at him.

"We're supposed to be counting numbers, not pencils."

"It's just an example!"

"But we're counting numbers!"

"Imagine that pencils are numbers!"

"But they're not!"

The conversation seems to be reaching a dead end. The tension is growing, and now Neil is exhaling heavily, visibly losing his patience.

Andrew lazily knocks on the door frame, attracting their attention. Both turn to him at once: Chris looks completely lost, and Neil is on the verge of an explosion.

"Please tell me this is a draft."

Andrew says calmly, almost mockingly, glancing at Chris's scribbled notebook. It looks about the same as a regular notebook, not much different: covered in strange scribbles, scraps of problems and random drawings.

"Andrew!", Neil exhales in relief, turning to him.

Chris frowns even more, and Andrew snorts and, crossing his arms over his chest, looks at them.

"Well? What's going on here? A school drama?"

Neil throws up his hands, not knowing whether to laugh or start crying.

"This isn't a drama, this is a nightmare! Chris refuses to understand elementary mathematics!"

"I understand mathematics!"

Chris says indignantly, stamping his foot.

"You're just explaining it wrong!"

Andrew barely holds back a smile. It seems that he enjoys watching this scene from the sidelines.

"Okay, enough arguing", he says finally, coming closer.

"Chris, listen to me carefully: if you have five candies and you give three to Jim, how many do you have left?"

"Two."

Chris answers instantly, as if it were the most obvious question in the world. Neil freezes, then slowly rubs his temples while Andrew openly laughs at him.

"See?", he says to Neil. "It's all in the approach."

"We finished the written assignment and even managed to figure out the world around us, but math... I've already exhausted all my strength here."

"Paps, look, this cloud looks like a cake!"

Chris screams, pointing his finger towards the window. Neil looks up at the ceiling, clearly trying to maintain the last of his calm.

"I'm a very patient person", Neil says slowly, taking a deep breath.

"But I'm vetoing it. That's it, I've had enough for today. I'm not doing homework with him. Your turn", Neil glances at Andrew and resolutely heads towards the exit.

"You're weak."

Andrew quietly throws after him, smirking when he sees Neil giving him the fuck finger without Chris noticing.

Chris, who was sitting at the table with a notebook, looks at his father guiltily.

"I didn't mean to...", he whispers, lowering his head.

Andrew sighs heavily and sits down next to him.

"I know."

Chris looks up at him with sad blue eyes.

"Really, Dad. I try, but I can't do it... I'm just too stupid."

Andrew frowns and puts his hand on his son's shoulder.

"Hey, no, wait, look at me. You're not stupid at all. No one thinks that."

Chris sobs, his lower lip already trembling.

"Neither Neil nor I think that", Andrew repeats softly. "Neil is just upset because he doesn’t know how to explain it. It’s his problem, not yours."

The boy nods silently, but his eyes are still shining with tears. Andrew hugs him, gently stroking his back.

"But he’s so smart!"

Chris exclaims, pointing desperately at the door through which Neil has disappeared.

"Yes, he is", Andrew confirms calmly.

"But it wasn’t always like that. It was very difficult for him to study, believe me."

Andrew remembers very well how Neil told him how Mary made him learn the multiplication tables while they were on the run and how Neil had to do tests in the backseat of the car. Andrew didn’t ask what happened if he failed or made a mistake - the answer was obvious.

Chris frowns, moving away from Andrew and looking into his eyes.

"But Jim did it all so quickly…", he says, still hesitating.

Andrew smiles and leans towards his son.

"I want to tell you something", he says conspiratorially.

"And it’ll be our secret."

Chris’s eyes widen in surprise.

"Even Papa doesn’t know?"

Andrew shakes his head with a small smile.

"Nobody knows. It’ll just be our secret."

Chris narrows his eyes, as if assessing the seriousness of the offer.

"You promise to keep it?", Andrew asks, holding out his little finger.

"I promise", Chris answers firmly, interlocking his little finger with Andrew’s.

"You know I lived with foster parents when I was a kid, too?"

Andrew asks, looking softly at Chris.

"They weren’t nice, were they?"

Chris asks cautiously, looking up. Andrew takes his hand, squeezing it lightly, so that Chris feels supported.

"That’s right", he nods.

"When I lived with them, they weren’t at all interested in helping me with my homework."

Andrew pauses for a moment, choosing his words carefully. He hasn't mentioned what those people were really interested in, or why they hired him in the first place. Chris doesn't need to know that. Not now.

"Did you do it all yourself?"

Chris asks curiously. Andrew smiles slightly at him, leaning toward the boy, as if about to share an important secret.

"Not exactly", he answers quietly. "I... copied."

Chris's eyes widen in surprise. Both Neil and Andrew always say that copying is cheating yourself. Neil says it straight out: first you have to learn on your own, and only then can you copy a hundred times.

"But...", Chris begins, blinking in confusion.

"It was hard for me to read", Andrew continues softly. "As hard as it is for you to concentrate."

"How come?", Chris asks, tilting his head slightly.

"When I looked at the book, the letters seemed to blur before my eyes, or the letters changed places. I just couldn't make them out, no matter how hard I tried. It's called dyslexia."

"But you can read now", Chris says, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"I learned", Andrew replies, his voice warm and encouraging.

"It was hard. Much harder than for others, but it's possible. You can do it too. It'll just take more effort."

Chris is silent for a moment, then quietly asks.

"Will you help me?"

"Of course", Andrew says confidently, opening the textbook to the page where Neil finished working with him.

"So, examples, huh?", he clarifies, turning the book towards Chris.

"Yes", the boy exhales tiredly, leaning over the notebook.

"We'll do it together", Andrew says confidently, gently patting his son on the shoulder.

Chris straightens up, his lips trembling in a sly smile.

"And then we'll go get ice cream?"

"If you solve all the problems in half an hour, I'll buy you two", Andrew promises with a smile.

Chris nods, taking up the pencil a little more confidently.

Chapter Text

Neil loves his job. Exy has been more than just a game for him for many years - he became his salvation, his refuge, and, ultimately, his path to a family he never dreamed of having. At first it was an obsession, that kept him going during his darkest times. And later, Exy not only saved his life, but helped him build a new one, full of meaning.

Sometimes, especially on nights when old nightmares haunted him, Neil would lie in the dark, stare at the ceiling, and think. He would run through his thoughts and wonder what would have happened to him if he hadn't disobeyed his mother and started playing Exy? If Coach Hernandez hadn't made that video he later sent to Wymack? If Kevin hadn't chosen him then? If Neil had refused to go with them, or had run away like he'd originally planned?

Neil thinks back to the past and feels his heart speed up with the memories. Rico, Lola, his father - all of it seemed like insurmountable obstacles that couldn't be overcome. But he had. And now he lies here, in a soft bed, under a heavy but cozy blanket, with a husband who, despite his difficult character, was his home.

Andrew sighs heavily next to him, turning over. His hair is tousled, and his eyes are still narrowed from sleep. He casts a sleepy, slightly irritated glance at Neil.

"Enough", he says in a hoarse voice.

"I didn’t do anything..."

"You think too loudly", Andrew interrupts, frowning.

"I’m just grateful for everything I have", Neil answers softly, smiling in the darkness.

"Idiot", Andrew mutters, but his voice is warm, not malicious.

He reaches out and, without thinking, presses Neil’s waist to himself. His warmth is a quiet, unobtrusive way of showing that he is here. That he is near.

"Sleep", Andrew says, closing his eyes.

Neil pauses for a moment, feeling Andrew’s chest rise and fall in long, even breaths. He knows Andrew isn’t a man of words, that his "sleep" means more than that. It’s "you’re safe." It’s "I’m here for you." It’s "I love you."

Neil closes his eyes and allows himself to smile. He’s truly grateful for what he has. A job he loves, a husband, children. He never thought his life would turn out like this. Never dared to dream of a future like this.

But it’s here. And that’s all he needs.

It all had its downsides, though. Being a professional athlete meant that Neil had to put up with certain inconveniences. One of them was the regular medical checkups. For most of the team, it was a routine duty, but for Neil, each six-month checkup was an ordeal. The others seemed to welcome the breaks, some taking them as a time to rest, others as a chance to take a break from the endless training. But not Neil.

"So, you have a week to get all your tests done."

The doctor says loudly, shouting over the slight noise in the locker room.

"I want all the permits on my desk no later than next Monday."

He pauses, looking at Neil.

"And that doesn't mean you have to start on Friday, Neil! You have to have everything ready by Monday. Got it?"

Neil snorts and rolls his eyes, trying to look completely unconcerned. But the doctor doesn't give up, looking at Kevin standing next to him.

"Day, you're responsible for him. Make sure he gets it done."

Kevin sighs heavily, shakes his head tiredly, and then suddenly kicks Neil in the shin.

"I'm cleaning up after you again", he mutters.

"You're talking", Neil snaps.

He's already 36, but he sticks his tongue out at Kevin like a teenager, then nudges him with his shoulder. Several of the team members giggle, and some joke.

"You're like brothers!"

Neil chuckles, but doesn't argue. His and Kevin's bond has always been something special - not just friendship in the classic sense, but also not just teammates. They were truly family to each other.

"We'll go tomorrow morning, okay?"

Kevin looks at Neil like an older brother trying to discipline a younger one.

"Yeah, whatever you say", Neil replies, rolling his eyes demonstratively.

But despite his obvious irritation, he knows Kevin is right. And he knows Kevin will still be standing over his shoulder to make sure Neil gets his checkups on time. That's how they do it - to tease each other, to irritate each other, but always be there when the time comes.

...

No matter how angry he is, Neil still goes to the hospital. He knows that resistance is useless. If Kevin wants something, he will get it.

Neil developed a habit of being the center of attention during his years with the Foxes. Now, playing for the Hawks, he is not only used to it, but also almost does not notice the lingering glances and intrusive questions. Almost. But every time cold hands in latex gloves touch his skin, he flinches. He clenches his teeth, tenses his shoulders, forces himself to sit still.

"Tell me, Mr. Josten-Minyard, do you have any complaints?"

The doctor asks. His voice is even, but his eyes are wary, as if he expects a trick from Neil.

Neil is sitting on the edge of the examination table, his body naked to the waist. The nurse working with the doctor carefully examines each scar on his skin. Her fingers gently press on the skin around the scars, as if checking if everything is okay. Neil flinches slightly at the touch, but he resists the urge to pull away.

He glances up at the ceiling, as if that would distract him from the tension.

"No", he answers shortly.

The doctor nods, quickly writing something down on his chart.

"Headaches?", he asks, barely raising his head.

"No", Neil repeats, shaking his head.

"Muscle pain?"

"No."

"Strange sensations in the heart area?"

Neil looks at him with irritation.

"No, no, and no again", he answers. His voice is dry but calm.

The nurse lingers her fingers on one of the deep scars on his shoulder. Neil involuntarily clenches his fists, but does not pull away.

"Does it hurt here?", she asks, looking into his eyes with professional concern.

"No", he answers a little sharper than he intended.

The doctor looks up at him.

"Are you sure? You can't take any chances. Your health is your career, Mr. Josten."

"Josten-Minyard. And my career is my business", Neil snaps, frowning.

The doctor doesn't notice or deliberately ignores the sharpness in Neil's voice. He only nods briefly, makes more notes on the chart. But before he can ask the next question, he is distracted by the nurse.

"Doctor, could you take a look?"

Her voice sounds a little worried, and Neil immediately turns his gaze to her. She looks strangely at the scar from the iron on his chest, as if there is something unusual there.

"Something wrong?", Neil asks sharply, frowning.

The nurse immediately smiles at him reassuringly, but the smile looks a little strained.

"Just a precaution. That's all."

These words do not convince him at all. Especially when the doctor comes closer and examines the scar with concern.

"Here, take a look. Here", the nurse says quietly, pointing to the area of ​​skin next to the burn.

Neil looks down, but doesn't notice anything strange. To him, this scar is just one of many. But the doctor frowns and sits down opposite him, now with a noticeable seriousness in his eyes.

"Mr. Josten-Minyard, have you ever had your blood tested for oncology markers?"

"Excuse me?"

Neil freezes. His body tenses, as if expecting a blow.

"You mean cancer?", he breathes out, feeling a cold lump of fear lodge in his throat.

The doctor raises his hand, gesturing for him to remain calm, but his face remains focused.

"Yes, that's right. The thing is, cancer cells can develop against the background of scars, especially burn scars. It's rare, but it does happen."

"But... but I thought cancer is for old people."

"Unfortunately, that’s not true. There are many risk factors, and one of them is chronic trauma and severe burns."

The doctor explains, pausing. His gaze falls again on the scars on Neil’s chest.

"Besides, there’s one more thing."

"What other thing?", Neil asks warily, feeling his heart pounding against his ribs.

"Red hair", the doctor answers calmly.

"What?", Neil looks at him with confusion, as if this is some kind of ridiculous joke.

"Red hair is associated with the first phototype of skin, which, in turn, is associated with an increased risk of skin cancer."

Neil looks down at his hands, as if he hopes to find an answer there. His mind is empty. All he can hear is the loud beating of his own heart. He nods slowly, but he’s not sure he’s fully comprehending what he’s heard.

"Are you serious?", Neil finally asks, his voice shaking slightly.

The doctor pauses, as if considering what is the best answer.

"It’s too early to draw conclusions. But we need to be sure that everything is okay. We’ll take blood samples and maybe do a biopsy if necessary."

Neil nods again, but doesn’t look up. His gaze is fixed on the floor, and his thoughts are racing through his head, unable to find an outlet. All he can do now is sit still and hope that this is just a "precaution", as the nurse said.

"When will the results be ready?", Neil whispers, without looking up.

"In three days", the doctor answers calmly, but his words seem to hit Neil.

Three days. Three days of not knowing. Three days of fear that the life he’s fought for for so many years could end. Neil swallows, feeling his throat tighten, his breathing shallow. He notices how tightly he’s gripping the edge of the table, his fingers white with the strain.

Three days.

Neil feels a cold sweat break out on his temples. His scars have never bothered him before. They were part of his past, a reminder that he survived. But now… now they’re a threat that could take everything from him.

He exhales, trying to pull himself together.

"Thank you", Neil says shortly, standing up. His legs feel like rubber, but he forces himself to walk toward the door.

The nurse and the doctor exchange glances, but say nothing. They’ve seen this before, people leaving their offices with the same expression on their faces: a mixture of fear, shock, and despair.

Neil barely makes it to the car. He puts his hands on the steering wheel, but doesn't start the engine.

Andrew.

The thought of him pierces his consciousness. Andrew, who always saw right through him, always sensed his emotions, even when he tried to hide them. Neil knows that he won't be able to hide it for long. He will have to tell everything.

But how?

How to tell the man who, despite everything, continues to love him that maybe their time together is shorter than they thought?

Neil closes his eyes. If he tells, Andrew will be angry. Of course he will be angry. Not at Neil, but at the world that is once again threatening to take away what is dear to him.

"Oh, God", Neil whispers, his forehead resting on the steering wheel.

...

Andrew feels like he's suffocating. Neil is sitting across from him at the kitchen table. His voice is halting, almost unrecognizable. He recounts what the doctor told him, but the words are lost in the roar of blood in Andrew's ears.

It can't be. It can't be.

"You have... cancer?"

Andrew's voice breaks. He says it slowly, as if he doesn't fully understand the meaning of his own words.

Neil's head snaps up, his eyes wide and fearful.

"No."

He shakes his head, but his voice sounds so uncertain that Andrew can hardly believe it.

He doesn't take his eyes off him, even though it's almost unbearable to look at Neil right now. All Andrew can see is Neil's pale, emaciated face in the coffin. It scares him to the point of trembling.

"You don't know that."

Andrew's voice is hoarse, his insides clenching.

Neil shakes his head again, a little more sharply this time, as if he wants to push the thought away.

"No."

Neil repeats, as if that one word could change reality.

Andrew stands up so abruptly that his chair crashes to the floor. His breathing is heavy, almost ragged, and he takes a few steps around the kitchen before bracing his hands on the table. Andrew bows his head, clenching his fingers until they hurt, trying to somehow cope with the emotions that are overwhelming him. Anger, fear, helplessness - all of it is mixed inside him, threatening to explode. He wants to say something, to shout, but the words are stuck in his throat.

"So what now?", he breathes out at last, leaning his elbows on the table.

Neil hugs himself around the shoulders, as if trying to protect himself from an invisible threat.

"Now I wait. The results will be in three days", he says quietly, without looking up.

Andrew clenches his teeth so hard he can hear them grinding. He knows he hates this feeling more than anything in the world. He hates not knowing, not being in control, not being able to fix anything.

He looks at Neil, and his heart sank.

"You… you won’t die", Andrew says sharply, although he’s afraid to believe his own words.

Neil looks up at him, and there’s a mixture of pain and faint hope in his eyes.

"You can’t die", Andrew repeats a little more quietly, as if he’s trying to convince not only Neil but himself. "You just can’t."

Neil feels a suffocating fear, as if he’s finally caught up with what he’s been running from his whole life. It’s a fear that’s crept up on him, drawing him into its cold, sticky embrace, and now it seems like there’s no way out. But with it comes a strange, almost painful relief. He was right. He’s always been right. He’s just not meant to be happy. He thinks it’s true, that for those extra twenty years that he snatched from fate, he’ll now have to pay with pain. But not his own, but the pain of those who love him.

They don’t tell the children anything. Not because they don't trust him, but because they don't know yet. And because none of them are ready to face the reality that it will be true.

Despite the silence, the children seem to sense that something is wrong. Valerie doesn't leave Andrew's side. She wraps her arms around him and rubs her cheek against his chest, as if trying to comfort both herself and him.

"Daddy, hug me", she whispers, and Andrew hugs her a little tighter, nodding silently.

Jim and Chris don't leave Neil's side. They hover around him, demanding his attention, arguing loudly among themselves about some nonsense.

Tyler, on the other hand, watches everything from the side. His gaze falls from Neil to Andrew every now and then. He doesn't speak out loud, but there is concern in his eyes, almost desperation.

Finally, he leans toward Neil.

"Papa, are you not hungry?"

His voice is so quiet that Neil can barely hear it. Neil looks up at his son, and his heart sinks. Tyler looks at him with such concern, like he already knows the truth.

"Are you okay?", he whispers.

Neil forces a weak smile.

"I’m fine", he says, trying to sound confident, but his voice is not as firm as before.

Tyler frowns and turns to Andrew.

"Dad?", he begins, but Andrew looks away, as if he hasn’t heard.

Tyler opens his mouth to ask another question, but notices the twins’ eyes, curious and worried, and he pauses.

"Okay", Ty finally says, not really believing the words.

Neil and Andrew exchange glances. Their eyes meet for a moment, and there’s weariness, fear, and shared understanding in that look.

Neil shakes his head, slowly, almost imperceptibly. No. Not now.

They won't scare the kids. Not now, when it could still be a false alarm.

The house is silent as the kids finally fall asleep. Neil tries to collect his thoughts, but his mind is still wandering in the chaos of emotions. As he walks down the stairs to the living room, he notices Tyler sitting on the steps at the bottom, slumped over, his head resting on his crossed arms.

"Ty?", Neil pauses for a moment, looking at his son. "What's wrong with you?"

Tyler lifts his head and stands up, straightening up, staring at Neil.

"No. What's wrong with you?", he states bluntly, his voice low but tense.

"What do you mean?", Neil tries to evade the question, but Tyler doesn't back down.

"No, Papa. I can see everything. You're not eating, you're barely sleeping, you're acting weird. And Dad didn't even say a word to you at dinner, and that's not like him at all."

"Ty...", Neil starts to defend himself, but then he hears Andrew's voice.

"He's right, Neil."

Andrew says, standing at the top of the stairs, his silhouette outlined in the soft light.

"Andrew, don't", Neil says, but his voice is weaker than he'd like.

Tyler turns, looks at Andrew, then back at Neil.

"What's going on? Tell me!", he cries, panic in his voice.

Neil presses his lips together, trying to find the right words. He nods toward the living room.

"Come on. We should sit down."

The three of them sit down on the couch. Tyler sits across from his parents, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, his nails digging into his skin. Neil breathes heavily, trying to find words that won't hurt his son too much.

"Tyler, you need to know that nothing is known yet. There's nothing to worry about..."

"You're scaring me", Tyler interrupts, his voice shaking, his hands clenching even tighter. "You're getting a divorce?"

Neil laughs nervously. Tyler frowns.

"What?"

"We're not getting a divorce, Ty", Andrew says calmly.

"Then what?"

Neil swallows, his heart pounding in his chest.

"This is my assessment for the team...", he begins.

Tyler goes pale, his lips barely moving as he says,

"Are you dying?"

The words are thunderous, like they're tearing apart the silence. There's panic on his face, an almost primal fear, and Neil can't tell him the truth. This is his little boy, his son. How could he hurt him like this?

Neil reaches out, squeezing Tyler's hand, trying to convey some warmth and reassurance through the touch.

"No, no. It's not like that. Remember that old fracture when I broke my arm?", he says quietly, trying to sound casual.

Tyler nods, not looking away.

"I just need to get a few more tests done before I can play. It's just a test, nothing serious."

Neil isn't exactly lying, but he's not telling the whole truth either. He can feel Andrew's gaze on him, hard and warning, but Tyler doesn't notice.

"That's all?", Tyler whispers, his voice shaking, but already sounding relieved.

"That's all", Neil confirms, smiling faintly.

Tyler breaks down and reaches out to Neil, hugging him.

"Oh, my God, I thought you were dying. I thought something terrible had happened", Ty says, burying his face in his father's shoulder.

Neil hugs his son tighter, feeling him tremble slightly in his arms.

"Of course not", Neil whispers, kissing the top of his head. "I’m fine. I’m fine."

Andrew reaches out and squeezes Neil’s shoulder in quiet but firm support. He says nothing, but his eyes say so much. Andrew doesn’t judge Neil for lying, because he wants to believe it too much himself.

...

Neil spends the entire three days in a state of semi-sleep. It’s as if someone has turned off the sound in his world, leaving only muffled voices and routine. He skips training, doesn’t answer Kevin’s calls, and Kevin seems almost mad with indignation. But Neil doesn’t care. He spends every minute with his family, trying to memorize their faces, their laughter, their voices.

He plays Exy with Vi on the small makeshift field in the yard, her ringing laughter echoing under the evening sky. Then they swap helmets and rackets for toy cups and cakes - Vi holds a "tea ceremony", seriously explaining the rules to him. Neil tries to hold on to a smile, but sometimes his eyes wander, as if he is somewhere far away.

He rides his bikes in the park with the twins. Jim and Chris race past him, while Neil hangs back, just watching. The two always bring life to everything around them, their laughter ringing and infectious. But deep down, Neil can't help but wonder: how many more times can he go for a walk with them?

In the evening, he sits next to Tyler and Andrew while they watch TV shows. Tyler enthusiastically comments on what's happening on the screen, conveying his emotions with his gestures. Neil listens to him, barely noticing the show itself. He only looks at his son, at his lively face, at this confidence that reminds Neil so much of himself.

Andrew doesn't bring it up. Ever. But Neil feels his presence in every movement: the way he moves his coffee cup closer, puts his hand on his shoulder, casually touches his palm. Andrew is always there, silently, but persistently.

Late on the third night, when the house is quiet, Neil carefully climbs out of bed. He is careful not to wake Andrew, knowing that he will immediately sense his absence. He goes downstairs, turning on the kitchen light, and sits down at the table with a blank sheet of paper.

He is not sure where to begin. The words come hard, his fingers tremble as he writes the children's names, trying to imagine how they will read this will.

An hour and a half later, Andrew finally finds him. He is not surprised. He sits quietly across from him, looks at the paper, and frowns as soon as he notices what is written.

"Neil", he says in a low, hard voice, "you are not going to die. Stop it."

Neil starts, looking up from the paper, and looks at him.

"We don't know that yet", he says.

Andrew closes his eyes and exhales heavily.

"Stop being dramatic", he says, but his voice cracks slightly. "You’re not going to die."

"But..."

"Neil. Stop", Andrew interrupts sharply.

For the first time in three days, Neil notices how pale Andrew is, how clenched his fists are, how tense his lips are.

"I’m sorry", Neil whispers, guilt flaring in his chest.

"I can’t do this now. I just can’t", Andrew echoes, looking at him almost desperately.

"I’m sorry."

Andrew moves closer, resting his elbows on the table, looking Neil straight in the eye.

"But I need to be ready", Neil says, his voice weak but insistent. "If it’s true, I can’t just leave you with nothing."

"If it’s true", Andrew interrupts, and the words hit him like a blow.

They both freeze, the words hanging in the air.

"If this is true", Andrew repeats, more quietly.

"Then we can handle this. Do you hear me? We can handle this, too. Aaron will find a good doctor. We will find a cure."

Andrew’s voice becomes firmer, more confident, and for a moment Neil wants to believe him.

"Let’s wait for the results. I… I can’t do this right now."

Neil nods, but he knows that sleep will not come. Later, lying in the dark, he closes his eyes and imagines his children in black at the funeral. Valerie standing there, confused, Jim and Chris barely holding back tears, and Tyler even saying a few words at his grave.

And Andrew. Neil can’t imagine how he will cope. Will he stay on his feet? Or will everything collapse?

Neil opens his eyes, looks at the ceiling, and realizes that waiting for the morning is becoming increasingly difficult.

...

Morning comes unexpectedly. Neil doesn't even notice how he falls asleep, but when he wakes up it's as if he never slept at all. He opens his eyes slowly, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. His gaze immediately falls on the phone on the nightstand. Neil reaches for it, his fingers barely touching the screen, but fear drives him. All he wants is to know.

Andrew, suddenly awake, sits up in bed. He's silent, but Neil feels his presence as keenly as his own emotions. Andrew's eyes are tense, but he's silent. Neil knows Andrew is just as scared as he is.

Neil's hands are shaking as he unlocks his phone. A message. He sees the hospital notification icon and freezes.

"There's a letter..."

Neil whispers, his throat constricting, but he forces himself to click on the message. The screen flashes white. A few seconds that stretch on forever, and then he reads it. The words line up in a clear sentence.

"Andrew..."

Neil's voice breaks, he swallows, and repeats a little louder.

"Andrew, I don't have cancer."

He says it as if he himself doesn't immediately realize what he's said.

Andrew exhales heavily, the sound quiet but filled with relief. His shoulders sag.

"I told you", he finally says, but his voice is broken.

Neil watches Andrew turn away slightly, trying to hide his face. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, glistening in the morning light, but he doesn't even try to wipe them away.

"You're crying", Neil says softly, his voice filled with wonder and warmth.

Andrew snorts, shaking his head, but he doesn't argue.

"Yeah. I thought you'd stop pestering me, and I was just hoping for freedom."

"Yeah, I will do it."

Neil says firmly, his arms wrapping around Andrew's shoulders, pulling him closer.

"I promise for a long, long time."

Andrew squeezes his hands, tightly, as if he's afraid Neil will dissolve right now. His fingers glide softly over Neil's wedding ring.

"I'll hold you to that", Andrew says quietly, not looking away.

Neil smiles, feeling the warmth spreading through his body. He bows his head, resting his forehead on Andrew's shoulder, and for the first time in days, allows himself to truly breathe freely.

Chapter Text

Neither Neil nor Andrew had really thought about it before. Of course, at the very beginning, they talked about it, were a little worried, but then they somehow stopped worrying. Their life went on as usual, and the children seemed to be happy with everything. But...

Their children don't have a mother.

Of course, not everyone has both parents, and some have none at all. But Neil and Andrew understand that theirs is a special case. They have never tried to replace their children's mothers, realizing that this would be pointless and wrong. Instead, they tried to be the best parents they could be. But that is not always enough.

Andrew walks into the house holding Valerie in his arms. Her eyes are red, as if she had just cried, and her face is wet. This sight shakes Neil. He immediately stops cooking dinner and comes closer. His attention is completely focused on Valerie. She hugs Andrew, clinging tightly to him, and sobs.

"What happened?"

Neil asks carefully, looking from his daughter to her husband. Valerie is silent, only clinging to Andrew even more tightly.

Neil suddenly notices how grown up she has become. Her face, usually so open and happy, now looks serious, and her gaze is somehow too conscious for someone who is four years old. His heart sank. They say other people's children grow up fast, but their own grow up even faster.

Neil reached forward to pick Valerie up. The girl lets go of Andrew and wraps her little arms around his neck, pressing her whole body against Neil and hiding her tear-stained face on his shoulder. He feels her hot cheeks against his skin, her quiet sobs still trembling in the air.

"The teacher at the kindergarten is a bitch."

Chris says sullenly, following Andrew into the house. Andrew immediately gives him a stern look, his eyebrows drawing together in a line Chris knows well.

"Watch your language", he says sharply.

Chris just shrugs, looking completely unperturbed. He clearly doesn't feel guilty.

"What? That's what Papa always says", he replies with feigned indifference and points at Neil.

Neil narrows his eyes at his son, ignoring the look Andrew is now giving him. Little traitor.

"I can. I’m older than you", Neil counters. "We’ll talk when you’re thirty."

Chris rolls his eyes, feigning extreme boredom, and Andrew nods toward the stairs.

"Go upstairs and get yourself busy."

Chris reluctantly climbs the steps, dragging his backpack behind him and throwing another silent look over his shoulder. Neil hears him mutter, "not fair", and sighs, stroking Valerie’s back. The girl begins to calm down, her sobs becoming quieter, but she still clings to him. Her fingers, so tiny, are digging into the fabric of his T-shirt with all their might.

Neil, holding her a little closer, looks questioningly at Jim, who has been standing nearby all this time. Jim looks at his sister sadly, his face more serious than usual.

"So what happened?", Neil asks softly.

The boy shifts from foot to foot, as if he doesn't want to speak, but he answers anyway.

"The teacher scolded Vi for her drawing."

These words make Neil frown. His hand continues to stroke Valerie's back, although he himself feels a strange mixture of anger and helplessness growing in his chest.

"For the drawing?"

He asks again, trying to keep his voice even.

"What drawing?"

Jim hesitates, looking down at his shoes. Neil raises an eyebrow when Andrew takes a sheet of paper out of his pocket, crumpled in a childish rage. Andrew carefully unfolds it, smoothing it out with his fingers, and a child's drawing opens before Neil. Crooked lines, bright, carelessly colored figures, but to Neil it looks perfect. On the paper - their family. They stand next to each other, holding hands, and their faces are wide with smiles. Neil doesn't see the problem.

"It's beautiful, honey."

Neil says with genuine admiration, kissing Valerie on the cheek. The girl looks up, her eyes still shining with tears. She rubs them with her fist, her face uncertain and worried.

"Really?"

Her voice sounds so quiet and confused that Neil's heart squeezes. He suddenly feels a wave of anger rising inside him. Someone made her doubt this drawing and herself. The thought of going to the kindergarten right now and telling them everything he thinks flashes through his mind, but he restrains himself.

"Of course", he smiles confidently, gently hugging her.

Valerie looks at the drawing in Andrew's hands and winces again, as if the tears are about to return.

"But Mrs. Lewis said it was wrong", she whispers, barely audible.

"Mmm? Why is that so?"

Neil tilts his head, looking at Andrew. He shrugs, showing that he doesn’t know yet. Apparently Valerie hasn’t explained it yet.

"She said that family is a mother, a father, and a child."

Finally, the girl speaks. Her voice trembles, and she presses herself closer to Neil. Andrew tenses, his fingers convulsing around the drawing.

"But I said that I don’t have a mom. I have two dads."

Valerie continues. She pauses for a second, as if she’s having trouble saying the next words.

"And she said that we can’t do that. That it’s not a real family."

The words hang in the air, chilling Neil’s heart. He sinks down on the couch next to her, still holding his daughter in his arms. His gaze hardens, but he holds back his rage, breathing deeply.

Valerie sobs again, hiding her face in his shoulder.

"She's just stupid", Jim says suddenly.

The boy comes closer, looking at his sister. He gently places his hand on her foot, covered in a bright pink sock, and begins to stroke it, as if trying to calm her down.

"I had a mother, and she wasn't really good", he says firmly but calmly.

Andrew leans down and gently ruffles Jim's hair.

"That's right, Jim," he says quietly. "Families are different."

Neil nods, feeling the anger slowly recede, giving way to a firm confidence.

"We have us. And that's a real family," he says, hugging Valerie.

The evening passes in a fog. Both Neil and Andrew think about what to do next. It is absolutely clear that they cannot leave things as they are and they need to do something, and it is preferable that everyone, even that bitch Mrs. Lewis, remain alive.

"I'm home!"

Tyler announces loudly, slamming the door so hard that the glass in the hallway rattles. Before he can take off his jacket, Valerie is already flying into him.

"Ty!"

She shouts happily, forgetting about her worries, if only for a moment.

"Hello, little princess!"

Tyler picks up his sister with a smile and throws her high into the air.

He spins her around like he always does when he comes home, and Valerie giggles, forgetting about everything in the world. But his gaze immediately falls on her tear-stained eyes. They are red and a little puffy, and the joy on Tyler's face instantly turns to concern. He raises his eyebrows questioningly, turning his gaze to Andrew, who is standing nearby.

Andrew only shakes his head, as if to say: "Not now." Tyler purses his lips, but gets the hint. He carefully sets Valerie down on the floor, gently patting her shoulder, just in time.

"TY!"

Chris's loud voice comes from the living room. He runs out into the hallway with Jim after him, waving his notebook as he goes.

"Look at this! I got an A in math!"

"And I got an A on the project!"

Jim picks up after his brother, barely holding a large model of the solar system in his hands. Tyler laughs and spreads his arms out to hug his younger brothers.

"Wow! Come on, tell me everything in order."

The four of them head to the kitchen, where the delicious smell of the finally finished dinner that Neil had thrown away a little earlier is filling the air. Tyler sits down at the table, listening to Chris excitedly tell about the test, which he wrote not only better than everyone else, but also faster than everyone else. And Jim modestly shows his model to his older brother, retelling the presentation for which the teacher praised him.

"You are great", Tyler smiles. "And you, little princess?"

He turns to Valerie, who is sitting on the edge of her chair, looking down at her plate.

"How was your day?"

Valerie is silent. Her shoulders rise and fall with a big sigh, but she says nothing. Tyler gently touches her shoulder, but Andrew, sitting opposite, shakes his head again.

The evening in the house is quiet, like the calm before an important conversation. The lamps in the living room shine softly, their light playing with reflections on the furniture. Valerie is sitting on the carpet, hugging her favorite soft toy, a plush rabbit, her gaze focused on the patterns of the carpet. Neil and Andrew exchange glances: it's time.

"Come here", Andrew calls softly, patting the couch next to him.

Chris is the first to jump next to him, immediately clinging to his father, as if he senses his nervousness. Andrew smiles slightly and puts an arm around his shoulders. Jim settles into his chair, pulling Sir into his lap, purring loudly as she stretches lazily. Tyler perches on the arm of the chair, ready to step in if the conversation gets too complicated.

Neil sits on the floor next to Valerie, wrapping his arms around her.

"Today was a tough day", he begins, his voice quiet but firm. "We know Mrs. Lewis said something that upset you. And we want to talk about it."

"She said our family was wrong."

Valerie whispers, keeping her head down. Tyler makes a strangled sound, hearing it for the first time.

"And that’s not true", Andrew says, his voice warm but firm. "Families are different."

Chris wrinkles his brow, considering his father’s words.

"But everyone in my class has a mom", he says, looking at Andrew. "We don’t."

"That’s true", Neil agrees, not letting go of Valerie’s shoulder. "But that doesn’t make you any worse. You know, there are families without a dad. Or families with only grandparents. There are people with no parents at all."

"Like Dad?"

Valerie whispers softly, finally lifting her head, her eyes shining with tears she’s holding back.

Andrew nods, his face softening.

"That’s right, Vi. I didn’t have parents. But family isn’t just about mom and dad. It’s about love, care, and support."

Jim strokes Sir, his face thoughtful.

"Then why did she say that? Does she really think we’re wrong?"

His voice trembles, as if he’s afraid to hear the answer.

Neil takes a deep breath, considering his words.

"Some people don’t understand that the world has changed. They’re not used to families being different. That’s their problem, not ours."

Andrew supports him, hugging Chris tighter. Tyler has been silent for most of the conversation, sitting on the arm of the chair, but you can tell he’s seething inside. His brow furrows and his fingers drum on the back of his chair. When Andrew finishes speaking, Tyler suddenly sits up straight and turns to face the others.

"You know."

He begins, his voice firm and slightly irritated.

"What that Mrs. Lewis said shows how closed-minded she is. She thinks her idea of ​​family is the only one. It’s…"

Ty hesitates, searching for the right, and preferably polite, word.

"It’s stupid."

Chris, sitting next to Andrew, looks at his brother with interest.

"What do you mean, closed-minded?", he asks, a little haltingly.

"It means she can’t see the bigger picture, to see the world as it really is."

Tyler explains, his voice softer but still firm.

"She lives in her own little world where family is just mom, dad, and the kid, and she doesn’t want to see that things could be any different."

"What’s wrong with being different?"

Jim asks, petting Sir, who’s purring in his lap.

"Nothing, Jim."

Tyler replies, looking at his brother.

"That’s the point. We’re a real family because we love each other, because we care about each other. And Mrs. Lewis doesn’t understand that."

"Ty’s right."

Neil agrees, looking at his son with pride.

"Some people just can’t accept that the world is changing. But that’s not our problem."

"But why is she like that?"

Valerie asks quietly, looking up at Tyler with big eyes.

He lowers himself from the armrest and sits on the floor next to his sister, wrapping his arms around her.

"Because she doesn’t know any different", he explains softly.

"She was probably taught to think that way. That doesn’t excuse her, but it explains why she said that."

"Are you mad at her?"

Chris asks, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"I’m angry."

Tyler admits, looking at his younger brother.

"She hurt Vi. And all of you. It’s wrong. But we can’t fix her, we can only show that we’re stronger than her words."

Andrew looks at Tyler with a mixture of surprise and pride.

"We want you to know that your family is real. And we will always protect you."

"Even from Mrs. Lewis?"

Valerie looks at him hopefully.

"Even from Mrs. Lewis."

Andrew answers firmly, his eyes shining with determination.

"And from anyone who says anything bad to you."

Neil adds, squeezing his daughter’s hand.

The room goes quiet for a moment, but this silence is different—not tense, but warm, filled with understanding. Tyler reaches out to Valerie, wraps his arms around her shoulders, whispering.

"We’ll always be together. We’re family."

These words finally dispel any doubts.

When dinner is eaten, homework done, and the kids in bed, Andrew and Neil sit across from each other at the kitchen table, their half-drunk teas long since cold. The room is tense and silent, broken only by the annoying ticking of the clock on the wall.

Neil runs his hand over his face, as if trying to shake away the fatigue and irritation that has built up over the day. His fingers linger for a moment on his temples, where the pain from overexertion throbs.

"We can’t leave this like this."

He finally speaks, his voice low and quiet. Andrew nods in agreement, clasping his hands together in front of him. His usually relaxed face is tense now, and his eyes are blazing with anger.

"Of course we can’t. That woman has no right to force her vision of a family on our children."

He says, his voice breaking, full of controlled fury.

"Especially not like this."

Neil shakes his head, leaning back in his chair.

"Valerie today... She hasn't spoken all evening. Have you seen? She barely ate anything, even though I made her favorite mac and cheese."

Andrew stares out the window at the darkening night.

"This is the first time she's had to deal with someone questioning her family. Our family", he says.

"It's not just her. It's all of our kids. Chris, Jim. Even Ty."

Neil just sighs heavily, clasping his hands behind his head. He looks away, unable to look at Andrew's dejected expression any longer.

"Okay. What can we do?"

He finally asks, his voice tight, as if each word is an effort.

"We need to talk to her first. This Mrs. Lewis."

Andrew is speaking, his fingers tapping nervously on the counter.

Andrew speaks, his fingers tapping nervously on the tabletop.

"Say that her comments are unacceptable."

"You think that will work?"

Neil chuckles skeptically. Andrew looks at Neil, his eyes bright.

"Then we’ll make it so she has no choice."

Neil looks at him for a long moment, weighing the idea. His mind races with ideas of what they could do, but none of them seem easy.

"And how do you envision that?", he asks cautiously, still hesitant.

Andrew leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I’ll talk to the director tomorrow."

He chuckles, but there’s no warmth in his smile.

"You wouldn’t mind a little show, would you?"

Neil chuckles, shaking his head.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes, considering how to implement this idea. The fog in their thoughts begins to clear, giving way to a clear plan.

...

It's a tense morning at the house. Neil and Andrew have already agreed: today they will go to the kindergarten to sort out the situation.

When they pull up to the kindergarten, Andrew gets out of the car first, his shoulders straight. Neil follows him, trying to remain calm, although inside he is seething.

At the entrance, they are met by the same Mrs. Lewis - a short woman with hard features. The smile on her face seems forced, but she is trying hard to look friendly.

"Oh, what brings you here so early?"

Her voice sounds with false politeness. Andrew immediately goes on the offensive.

"We are here to discuss your behavior towards our daughter yesterday, Mrs. Lewis."

His voice is hard, almost icy. The woman winces, her forced smile disappearing.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about", she says, but her tone is defensive.

Neil steps forward, holding out Valerie’s drawing.

"This..."

He holds out the smoothed-out sheet of paper.

"...is our daughter’s drawing. You told her it was wrong. That our family wasn’t real."

"Oh, well..."

Mrs. Lewis spreads her hands, her voice turning condescending.

"I was just explaining traditional values ​​to the children. That’s not..."

"Traditional values?"

Andrew interrupts her.

"And you think you have the right to decide what constitutes a family? You humiliated our daughter. You made a four-year-old feel like her family was inferior to others."

Mrs. Lewis is starting to fidget, but she’s still trying to maintain her confidence.

"I just..."

"That’s enough", Neil says sharply. "You weren’t just. You were homophobic and discriminatory. And we’re not going to let that go unpunished."

At that moment, the door to the principal’s office opens and a tall, friendly-looking woman steps out.

"What’s wrong?", she asks, looking around at the group.

"Mrs. Hart", Andrew turns to face her, his voice more measured. "We’re here to discuss the behavior of your employee."

The principal listens to their story with growing surprise. Her expression darkens gradually, and when Neil finishes, she sighs heavily.

"I must apologize for Mrs. Lewis’s behavior."

She says, turning to face them.

"It’s completely unacceptable."

Mrs. Lewis begins to protest.

"But I just..."

"That’s enough, Mrs. Lewis", the principal snaps.

"You should have known that such comments were unacceptable."

Andrew steps forward, his face firm.

"If you don’t take action, we’ll be forced to sue for discrimination. And don’t think we won’t."

Mrs. Lewis pales, her confidence completely gone.

"It's a misunderstanding," she babbles, but her voice is pathetic.

The principal sighs, looking at her with obvious disappointment.

"Mrs. Lewis, please come into my office. We will discuss your future at this institution."

She says coldly, then turns to Neil and Andrew.

"I want to assure you that something like this will not happen again."

Neil and Andrew nod, still holding back their anger, but feeling satisfied that they have been heard. As they leave the preschool, Andrew finally allows himself a sigh of relief.

"I think she'll get what she deserves."

He says, squeezing Neil's shoulder.

"Yes, but the important thing is that Valerie knows that we are always on her side", Neil says quietly.

*BONUS*

Tyler gives his sister a thoughtful look and suddenly speaks.

"You know, Vi, how about you draw our family again? Only as you see it. What do you say?"

Valerie looks up at her older brother, first surprised, then excited. She scoops up the pencils closer to her and nods quickly.

"Okay!"

She replies, already in anticipation.

Her little hands start frantically sorting through the colors, choosing, the pencils rolling across the table.

"You can do it, little princess", Ty says, winking at her.

A few minutes later, Valerie is completely immersed in the process. She sticks out the tip of her tongue, intently moving the red pencil across the paper, and suddenly screams.

"Papa, I don’t have enough paper! I need more!"

"What do you mean I don’t have enough?"

Neil is surprised as he comes closer. He peers over her shoulder and sees the drawing that has already filled the entire page.

The two bright orange blobs are clearly her and Neil. The white-haired, small figures with wide smiles are, without a doubt, Chris and Jim. Another dark one is Ty, and next to him is Andrew. Next, she has drawn Kevin with a golf club. Then Aaron in a white coat. Her pencil moves faster as she adds Wymack, his hands appearing to be on fire, just like his fire tattoos.

"See?"

Valerie looks up and shows me the drawing.

"I’m running out of room! I still have to draw Sophie. And Aunt Alli. And Aunt Renee. And Uncle Matt. And…"

She bends her fingers, listing everyone she wants to draw. Neil laughs and raises his hands in surrender.

"I get it, I get it. I'll bring you a lot of drawing paper now!"

Andrew, watching them, can't help but smile.

Chapter Text

Neil calls them "episodes." He hates to call what's happening to him an eating disorder, even if it's true. And although Andrew has repeatedly tried to convince him to go to therapy, every conversation they had on this topic ended with the same phrase from Neil: "I have everything under control, it's temporary." But there is nothing more permanent than temporary.

In the kitchen of their house, there is still a poster that says: "Taking care of yourself means taking care of your health." The phrase has been learned by heart over the past years, although for Neil it often sounds more like a reproach. The frame is slightly skewed, and the edge of the poster has faded from the sun, but no one is going to take it down. It is a symbol: imperfect, like everything in their family, but important.

Andrew compensated for his difficult childhood by devouring sweets by the pack. There was always room in their kitchen cabinet for cookies, chocolates and caramels. Neil was the complete opposite - he could get by for hours on just a cup of black coffee and a thin slice of toast, as if food was something insignificant, unnecessary for him. Sometimes he even just forgot to eat.

Neil loves his family and loves his children. But life with four children is not easy and certainly not calm. This morning began with a search for Chris's sneakers. He burst into their room with his eyes full of despair, loudly declaring that "without them I will not be allowed to go to gym!" Jim stood silently nearby, clutching an empty box of paints that they all forgot about. And Tyler, still half-awake, begged Neil to stop for coffee on the way, because without it, in his words, he "just won't get through the day." By the time Neil had finally gotten everyone into the car, his head was buzzing from the noise and his stomach was empty. He glanced at his watch – there was no time for breakfast.

"Papa?"

Valerie’s soft voice comes from the back. She’s strapped into her car seat, her legs swinging, looking at him through the rearview mirror.

"Mmm?"

Neil responds absentmindedly, not taking his eyes off the road. His thoughts are in a whirl: should they stop at the store? Was there still some milk left at home? Or was it better to be on the safe side?

"Are we going to the park today?", she asks.

"Tonight, honey."

Neil answers, catching her eye in the mirror and smiling briefly. Yes, he remembers, there is milk.

His day, as always, is scheduled down to the minute. Several times a day, Neil goes to practice, picks up the boys from school, cooks dinner. Tyler is finishing school this year, and he and Andrew are increasingly discussing their university options, which also takes up a lot of time. And of course, Neil doesn’t have a second to stop and remember the last time he ate something.

Andrew tries to keep an eye on this. He constantly reminds Neil not to skip meals, especially now that Neil is training hard for an important match. But Andrew has his own worries: work, their children, household chores. He can’t be there all the time to keep an eye on Neil. And he shouldn’t. Neil is a grown man, he’s 37, he can take care of himself just fine.

He can’t.

It starts out as a simple lack of time. Neil rarely misses breakfast, after all, he eats it with the boys before dropping them off at school, while Andrew and Valerie are still asleep. Dinner is no problem either. Neil loves to cook for his family, and by the end of the day, preparing dinner has become his way of releasing the tension that has built up during the day. But lunch… lunch just disappears from his schedule, lost somewhere between practice and the pool and school and the kids’ clubs and chores.

And it’s not on purpose. He really does forget. There never seems to be a good time. First Neil tells himself:

"I’ll eat after practice."

Then:

"I’ll eat when I pick up the twins."

And then the evening comes and he realizes that all he’s eaten all day are a few sips of coffee and maybe a piece of cheese he grabbed off someone else’s plate along the way. So really—really, Andrew shouldn’t be so mad when he finally found out!

"Josten."

He spits Andrew out, slamming the door loudly. Neil wakes up instantly and glances at his watch: just in time, but he doesn’t understand why Andrew is so mad. More precisely, it is clear why. Andrew, from what he tells us, has idiots at work. But why is he mad at him? Neil takes a closer look, sitting up on the couch and rubbing his eyes to clear away the sleep. Andrew's golden eyes are narrowed, and his jaw is clenched tightly.

"Josten-Minyard, actually."

Neil answers, his voice hoarse from sleep. Andrew doesn't fall for his usual trick and looks at him carefully.

"Not when you act like an idiot."

Neil raises an eyebrow.

"What did I do?"

Andrew stands before him, arms crossed over his chest, determined and straight.

"It would be more accurate to say what you didn't do."

Neil winces.

"Can you not speak in riddles? My head hurts and I can't think."

"Apparently it hurts all the time."

Andrew takes a deep breath and exhales, calming himself. Although judging by the look in his eyes, it didn't help much.

"Jim called me at work today."

He finally says it, as if that should explain everything.

"Okay?"

But seeing Andrew frown, Neil changes tactics.

"Not okay?"

"He was very worried."

"Something happened? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's okay. The problem isn't him. The problem is you."

Neil raises an eyebrow, but relaxes when he hears that nothing serious happened to Jim. He leans back against the couch again, clearly not taking Andrew's words seriously.

"If he's okay, then what's the problem?"

Andrew exhales in irritation and takes a step forward, his voice becoming firm.

"He called me because he was scared."

Neil blinks, trying to understand what Andrew is talking about.

"Scared? About what?"

Andrew narrows his eyes, as if he can't believe Neil could be that blind.

"Because, Neil, he thinks his father doesn't eat."

Neil pauses for a moment, taking that in. Then he snorts dismissively and waves it off, as if it were the stupidest thing he's heard all day.

"Neil."

Neil looks at Andrew, feeling the tension between them. He runs a hand over his face, trying to shake off the last of the sleep and figure out how this had suddenly escalated from another pointless argument to something serious.

"You're exaggerating, Andrew."

Neil says, trying to sound calm.

"I ate today. Well, sort of."

"Sort of?"

Andrew repeats.

"And that's your answer? You don’t even remember."

Neil shrugs, trying to pretend it doesn’t matter.

"I just had a long day. I’m fine. I’m alive and well. What more do you want?"

Andrew takes a step closer, and there’s a dangerous, quiet note in his voice.

"I want you to stop pretending this is normal. Jim’s scared, Neil. He’s scared because he thinks you’re sick or something worse. He’s a kid, and you’re making him worry about things he shouldn’t even think about."

"It’s just a lack of understanding", he mutters. "Jim worries too much sometimes…"

Neil doesn’t have time to finish. Andrew takes another step forward, and now his face is so close that Neil can’t ignore his gaze. Anger, pain, and exhaustion are written all over Andrew’s every movement.

"Neil!"

Andrew interrupts, his voice too loud.

"It's not "just"!"

Neil winces at his tone, but tries to laugh it off anyway.

"Come on, Andrew. I eat. Just not as often as you'd like. I'm fine."

He shouldn't have said that because Andrew's face immediately contorts with rage. He looks at Neil like he's trying so hard not to hit him.

"You're "fine"? You can't even remember if you ate today! And I bet you forget about lunch every day. It's not "fine", Neil. It's a problem."

Neil winces again, feeling Andrew's words hit a nerve.

"I don't understand why you're so angry!"

Neil cries out, standing up from the couch and crossing his arms over his chest, imitating Andrew.

"I'm tired. I had a lot of things to do and I just missed lunch. It's not the end of the world!"

But Andrew doesn't relax.

"You're doing it again."

He says simply, and Neil winces, taking a step back. Andrew doesn't need to tell what he means, Neil knows. It was his last year at university, and none of their teammates were around anymore. Neil lived with strangers, trained with them, but none of them knew him. None of them knew that Neil couldn't take care of himself, and that his "I'm fine" couldn't be taken at face value. Neil had a lot going on back then, training, exams, and he missed Andrew and the others so much that the sick feeling of hunger deep in his stomach gave him a strange calm. He collapsed from exhaustion after a couple of weeks of starvation, and didn't play for another couple of weeks.

"It's not like that."

Neil quietly protests.

"You're not eating."

"It's just lunch, Andrew."

Neil shrugs, trying to convince either himself or him that everything is fine.

"I just wasn't hungry."

Neil knows this is one of the side effects of his former life on the run. He and his mother couldn't always get food, and Neil often fell asleep hungry. Soon the stomach pain and dizziness became so familiar to Neil that he got used to it.

"You're being too dramatic."

"Am I being dramatic?"

Andrew looks at him like he can’t believe his ears.

"When our son calls me at work crying because he’s afraid his father is sick, that’s not drama, Neil. That’s our reality. And it’s not Jim who’s worried too much. It’s you who’s not taking care of yourself enough."

"Andrew, you shouldn’t worry about this so much."

Andrew looks at him again, this time with pain as well as anger.

"And I can’t help but worry, Neil. You’re a part of my life. And I’m not going to just stand by and watch you kill yourself."

There’s a moment of silence in the room. Neil clenches his jaw, feeling his barriers crumble under that intense gaze.

"It’s not as serious as you think", he says quietly, almost pleadingly.

Andrew turns abruptly and walks into the kitchen. His steps are heavy and determined, and Neil knows it’s best not to argue now.

"Sit down."

Neil complies, lowering himself into a chair and folding his hands in front of him. His fingers automatically intertwine as his gaze glides over Andrew, who is silently working, taking a plate of last night’s leftovers out of the fridge and crackers out of the cabinet.

Andrew sets the plate down in front of him with unexpected gentleness. His gaze is still stern, but there’s a tired concern in it now.

"Eat."

Neil looks up, trying to argue.

"Andrew…"

But he stops when he meets that gaze. It’s not anger, it’s something else, something that makes him feel like a little boy who’s been stubborn for too long. Genuine concern.

"Okay", he says quietly, looking down at his plate.

Andrew sits down across from him, crossing his arms over his chest. He watches Neil so intently that it makes him slightly uncomfortable, but Neil doesn't say anything. He picks up his fork, slowly twirls the pasta, and puts it in his mouth.

At first it feels strange. The food feels heavy, foreign. But after a few bites, he realizes how hungry he was. His head, which had been slightly spinning, suddenly clears up. The pain in his stomach recedes, replaced by lightness, almost relief.

When the plate is empty, Neil puts his fork aside and looks up at Andrew, who nods with satisfaction.

"Okay. Now we'll sit and watch your stupid Exy until the kids come home. And then we'll have dinner. And you'll eat everything I put on your plate."

"But Vi..."

Neil tries to object, reminding him that he needs to and still needs to pick up his daughter.

"Tyler's taking the little ones", Andrew snaps, not giving him a chance to argue further.

Neil exhales and stands up, slowly walking toward Andrew. He puts his arm around him, leaning against the warm shoulder.

"Thank you", he says quietly.

"Shut up", Andrew replies, but his voice is softer than usual.

...

Neil, no matter how many times Andrew calls him an idiot, knows one thing for sure: his "episodes," as he prefers to call them, don't just go away, and they certainly don't disappear overnight. He gets it. He knows it's serious, but he prefers not to discuss it with anyone. Especially not with his kids.

Andrew, of course, doesn't argue with him, leaving it up to him to decide what to tell and to whom. It's Neil's body, his health, his choice. But Andrew never lies to his children. And so when Tyler came up to him one night in the kitchen where Andrew was making dinner and asked, "Is Papa okay?" Andrew answered honestly.

It happened when Neil was picking Tyler up from school. He asked him for a ride to his friends' house for the weekend, and Neil couldn't refuse him. Their time together was getting shorter and shorter, and Neil tried to spend every free minute with his eldest son. It was unlikely that Ty would ask him to come to college to give him a ride.

Neil was sitting in the car, parked near the school, listening to the radio playing softly over the speakers. Tyler appeared a few minutes later, throwing his backpack into the backseat and plopping down next to Neil, immediately reflexively fastening his seat belt. This action was honed to the point of automaticity - if you are Andrew Minyard's son, you know the rules of car safety by heart.

"Hey, Papa!"

Tyler greets cheerfully, slamming the door.

"Hey, Ty. How are you?"

Neil smiles, but it's a hard smile. He's tired. The game last night had drained him of everything, and the upcoming game with the Mountain Lions is giving him every ounce of peace. Kevin had drained the team's souls during practice, and while Neil knows it was necessary, the stress is only making him feel worse.

"Great! It's all great."

Tyler says absentmindedly, looking out the window. Neil knows he needs to give him time to open up. Ty is always like that - he's quiet at first, and then he starts sharing everything that's on his mind.

"Okay", Neil says, turning onto the road.

Tyler suddenly perks up.

"Oh!"

He exclaims, and, assuming an incredibly strange pose, tries to reach for the backpack in the backseat without unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Ty, what are you doing?"

Neil gives him a surprised look, but Tyler just waves it off. After a few minutes, he finally pulls out a couple of protein bars and a bottle of water from his backpack.

"This is for you", he says, handing it to Neil.

"For me?"

Neil raises an eyebrow, confused as to why he's so considerate.

"Yeah. You have a game with the Mountain Lions tomorrow."

"Yeah..."

Neil nods slowly, still not making the connection. Tyler rolls his eyes.

"You have a game tomorrow, and you're not eating again", he says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Neil tenses. He grips the wheel a little tighter, then slows down and pulls into the nearest parking lot. He's silent for a few seconds, wondering what to say.

"Did your Dad put you up to this?", he asks finally, looking at Tyler.

Tyler shakes his head.

"No. But..."

He sighs, as if collecting his thoughts.

"I noticed something was wrong with you. So I asked him. And he just told me."

Neil presses his lips together, looks away again.

"Just asked, and just answered", he repeats quietly.

He looks at Tyler, who is sitting across from him, looking serious and worried. He still has the bars outstretched in his hands, and Neil feels his heart clench inside.

"You know I’m okay, right?", he says softly, trying to reassure his son.

Tyler shrugs and looks away.

"I was worried", he says quietly.

Neil looks down. He has nothing to say to that. He reaches over, picks up the bottle of water, and takes a long sip. It’s the first sip of water he’s had all day, but he doesn’t say it out loud.

"Thanks, Ty. Put the bars in the glove compartment, I’ll eat them as soon as we—"

He doesn’t have time to finish. Tyler is already unwrapping one and handing it to Neil.

"You better eat it now", he says firmly.

Neil doesn't argue. The bar tastes like chocolate-covered strawberries, and Neil forces himself to chew, even though his stomach is still clenched with worry. Tyler watches him, and the worry in his eyes is slowly turning to relief.

Neil eats the bar in two bites and holds out his hand.

"Can you open another one for me?"

Tyler smiles, his face lighting up with joy, and for that smile, Neil is willing to do anything.

...

Since the incident in the car, Neil has really been trying to take better care of himself. He eats when he remembers, drinks water when he feels thirsty, but his illness, like his stubbornness, is still there. And so one day, returning home from training, he almost passes out when he gets out of the shower.

As soon as he steps onto the soft mat, Neil suddenly feels like everything around him is starting to swim. The ground beneath his feet feels like it's shifting, the walls seem to be closing in on him, and black spots appear before his eyes.

"Fuck!"

Neil grabs the wall, trying to keep his balance. He blinks, fast and hard, as if it could clear the growing darkness before his eyes.

"Papa?"

Jim's worried voice sounds from the other side of the door.

Neil winces. He knows that if his son thinks something is wrong, he'll call Andrew right away. And Andrew, of course, will come running home. But now is not the right time. Andrew is working on a very important case today. His husband is preparing to put away the bastard who raped his little niece, and Neil doesn't want to distract him because of his own health.

"I'm fine! I just slipped!"

Neil grits his teeth, trying to sound cheerful.

A second of silence.

"Are you sure you're okay?", Jim clearly doubts it.

Neil takes a few quick but sharp breaths, suppressing the cough that is rising in his throat.

"Yeah, everything is okay. I'll be out soon."

Only when his son's footsteps fade away does Neil relax and, bending his arm, cough into the crook of his elbow, trying to do it as quietly as possible. His chest is constricted, his throat is sore, and the cough echoes with pain in his ribs.

"Oh, shit..."

Quickly pulling on his clothes, he leaves the bathroom. His legs give way, and he barely manages to grab the door frame. Leaning on the walls, Neil slowly makes his way to the bedroom.

Barely reaching the bed, he falls onto it, burying his face in the soft pillow. His body is shaking from fatigue, and every movement is difficult.

"I'm not sick. Not sick. Not sick. I'm not sick."

Neil mutters under his breath, as if that might convince him.

But it's getting harder to convince, and an unpleasant realization pops into his head: maybe he would feel better if he hadn't skipped dinner last night. Or at least had breakfast this morning. Neil closes his eyes, trying not to think about it.

He drifts off into a painful, heavy sleep. He dreams of scattered fragments of memories and voices, but all of it disappears when he is awakened by a dull knock on the door.

"Mmm?"

Neil hums weakly, keeping his eyes closed. He feels like any movement will cause a wave of nausea, even though there is nothing in his stomach.

"Papa, can I come in?"

Chris's voice is cautious.

Neil forces himself to rise, leaning on his elbows, and slowly sits up in bed, leaning back against the pillows. His throat hurts, but he clears it, trying to make his voice normal.

"Yes, come in."

The voice still sounds terribly hoarse. Jim follows Chris into the room, holding the door for his brother. Chris is holding a large tray, and he is clearly trying not to drop it.

"What is this?", Neil croaks, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

Chris carefully places the tray on his lap. On it is a plate of crookedly sliced ​​apples, a bowl of fresh strawberries, a mug of hot tea, and two white tablets lying nearby. Jim, having closed the door, comes closer, and both boys look at Neil intently.

"It’s…"

Neil stutters, coughs, and Chris immediately hands him the cup. The hot tea burns his palms, but a sip brings strange, almost immediate relief.

"You’re sick", Chris says calmly, looking at him.

"It’s okay."

Neil waves his hand dismissively, but his voice is not convincing enough.

"Papa."

Jim says reproachfully. The boy’s eyes narrow, and his expression is painfully reminiscent of Andrew’s, especially when he’s unhappy. Neil gives in almost without a fight.

"Okay. I’m sick. But you shouldn’t have worried."

"When you’re sick, you don’t eat", Jim adds.

Chris shrugs and moves the bowl of strawberries closer to his father.

"We just wanted to do something nice for you."

Neil picks up a red berry with trembling fingers. The taste is barely noticeable, but he smiles at the kids anyway.

"Thanks, guys."

He moves the plate of apples closer to them.

"I appreciate your concern, but I can't eat this alone."

Chris and Jim exchange glances and sit down next to each other, each holding out their hands for a piece of apple. Neil notices that they are watching him closely to make sure he eats, which makes him feel both annoyed and grateful. When the plates are empty, Neil looks at the pills left on the tray.

"What's this?"

"I called Dad", Jim admits.

Neil closes his eyes and groans, covering his face with his hand. Chris laughs at him.

"Okay. I think I have a couple of hours before your Dad comes home and kills me."

Neil mutters, taking the pills and washing them down with the rest of his tea.

"Dad won't kill you."

Chris says confidently. He leans closer to Neil, resting his forehead on Neil's shoulder.

Neil hugs his son, sighing softly.

"Let's hope so."

...

Valerie is a smart girl. Smart and very attentive. Andrew knows this, so he is not surprised when one day she approaches him with an anxious question.

"Is Papa sick?"

Andrew tenses. Memories of the last time he saw Neil flash through his mind, and he instinctively glances around to the backyard. There, Neil, Tyler, and the twins are tossing a Frisbee back and forth. Storm, now a giant, runs between their legs, barking loudly. Everything seems so normal.

"Why do you think that?"

He asks calmly, looking down at Valerie.

Valerie tilts her head to the side, the same way Nicky does when she wants to soften something unpleasant.

"Papa doesn’t eat", she answers seriously.

Andrew is silent, considering what to say. He knows Valerie is sensitive and attentive, but he didn’t expect her to notice so much.

"You always say that yourself!", she adds, frowning slightly.

Andrew reaches out and gently squeezes her small shoulder, reassuringly.

"That’s right", he says, looking into her eyes. "Papa sometimes has trouble with eating."

He’s afraid she’ll ask why. Afraid he won’t be able to lie to her and he’ll have to tell her everything, even though Valerie is too young for that. But instead she asks something else.

"He doesn’t eat to be beautiful?"

Andrew shakes his head.

"We exercise and watch our diet not for that. It’s for health."

Valerie nods seriously, but her next question still strikes Andrew in the heart.

"But if Papa gets fat, will you stop loving him? Stacey’s mom got fat when she had the second child, and her father abandoned them."

The words are cruel and childishly direct.

"No", he answers firmly. "I don’t love your Papa for his body."

Valerie looks at him for a moment, as if trying to gauge the sincerity of his words. Then she nods slowly.

"Can I help him?"

Andrew feels his heart squeeze with love for this little girl. He pulls her close, hugs her, and leaves a warm kiss on the top of her head.

"You can", he says softly. "We all can do it."

"How?"

Andrew smiles.

"Just hug him. And Papa will feel better right away."

Valerie nods solemnly, then suddenly turns and runs out into the back yard.

"Papa!"

Neil is distracted by her scream. Storm happily grabs the Frisbee that fell to the ground and runs away, and Chris gives chase. Valerie runs up to Neil, and he catches her in his arms.

"Papa, I love you!", she says, throwing her arms around his neck.

Neil smiles, his voice a little rough from all the laughter.

"I love you too."

"Hugging mess!"

Ty screams, and the twins slam into Neil, knocking him down. He falls to the ground, laughing loudly, hugging all the kids tightly.

Through the noise of joy, he catches Andrew's eye, standing in the doorway with a typically unflappable expression. But there's still a warm tenderness in those amber eyes. Neil, lying on his back, holds out his hand, inviting him to join him.

Andrew rolls his eyes, but walks down the steps anyway.

Chapter Text

It would seem that in a house full of children, what bad could happen? Their life already resembles an endless chaos: cracked dishes, mirrors with cobwebs from games in the house that Andrew strictly forbade. Broken chairs are the result of Chris's dangerous experiment, who decided to ride them down the stairs. Walls painted with flowers and kittens, masterpieces of Vi, whose little hands cannot resist markers. The tattered upholstery of the sofa, because Jim had gotten hold of a laser somewhere, and Sir and King were too busy competing to see who could catch the little red dot first. And probably hundreds of other little disasters and pranks that the children had cleverly hidden, and that Neil and Andrew might not find out about until years later.

But, in reality, all of these were small things. Broken things can be fixed or bought new, walls can be repainted if desired, and furniture can be replaced. The worst thing about a house full of children was something else entirely. What Neil and Andrew were most afraid of was when one of them started getting sick.

Because a virus in their house was like a small spark falling on dry grass. It turns into a fire in an instant, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t put it out. The disease penetrates their home, settles on the surface, turning their lives into a different kind of chaos - exhausting, painful, deprived of the opportunity to rest or relax. It's a domino effect that seems unstoppable.

It starts out of nowhere. It's getting cooler outside, the sky is cloudy, and the news is full of reports of a new outbreak of the virus. People around them are getting sick, one after another. Neil's team is not left untouched - several members of their team are missing practice, and Kevin, tearing and throwing everything he has into making sure that the remaining healthy players take vitamin C, drink water, and avoid contact with sick people.

Neil watches this with a grain of salt. He is sure that his family is well prepared. Aaron has provided them with an arsenal of vitamins, and Andrew, with his iron discipline, makes sure no one forgets to take them every morning. Tyler only grumbles about "useless bitter pills", but still does what Andrew says, as always.

And yet, Neil cannot shake off the anxiety. He knows how quickly viruses can spread, how easily illness can break their chaotic but structured existence. So Neil hopes that the flu season will not affect his family, but one evening, when Valerie comes home from kindergarten, Neil notices that something is wrong. Her nose is red, her eyes are shining not with joy, but with fever. She looks tired, as if the walk from the car to the door was a real test for her.

"Hello, honey."

Neil says, leaning towards her and instinctively pressing his palm to her hot forehead.

He does not know if she has a fever. In fact, it is more likely just a caring gesture that has remained with him from the Foxes. When he was sick, Abby always did this, and it made him feel better, even if she did not say a word.

Neil just shrugs at Andrew's questioning look, he can't tell if someone has a fever by touch. Andrew silently rolls his eyes and goes to find a thermometer.

"Hi, Papa."

Valerie wheezes, looking up at Neil with red eyes. Her voice sounds like someone has poured sand into her mouth.

Neil frowns, carefully helping her take off her jacket and shoes. She can barely stand on her feet, and something in his chest squeezes unpleasantly.

"Are we going to play Exy today?"

She asks, hoarsely, but with hope in her voice.

Neil barely holds back a smile. She is so much like him, and her persistence in wanting to play, despite everything, even in this state, makes him feel warmly sad.

"Not today."

Neil says, and he himself does not believe that he is saying these words. Usually Andrew says such things. But he needs to start being responsible, right?

"You’re sick."

Valerie sniffles pitifully and rubs her nose with her hand, smearing snot across her face. For a second, Neil panics: what if she infects everyone else? What if this is just the beginning?

At that moment, Andrew returns with the first aid kit and thermometer. He looks at Valerie, a mixture of irritation and sympathy in his eyes: clearly this is not the first time Valerie has sniffed like this on the way home.

"Napkins."

Andrew reminds her, pulling them out of his pocket and handing them to his daughter. She takes them with her small, weak hands and clumsily rubs her nose, her eyes already beginning to close.

"Andrew, she’s really sick", Neil whispers, picking Valerie up.

Valerie is seated on the couch in the living room. Her cheeks are flushed and her half-closed eyes are shiny with fever. Tyler, who had been watching the show until now, pauses it.

He straightens up, looking closely at his little sister, and asks with a worried expression on his face.

"Oh, little princess, are you okay?"

He holds out his arms, offering her a comforting hug. Valerie, exhausted but still childishly seeking protection from adults, immediately reaches out to him, hugging her older brother around the neck.

"Are you okay?"

Ty repeats his question, looking down at her, but in response, Valerie sneezes loudly right on him. Tyler jerks away from his sister, covering his face with his hand, and looks at Vi in horror.

"What was that?"

He asks with a slight panic and disgust in his voice.

Andrew, standing a little to the side with his arms crossed over his chest, sighs heavily and hands his son a napkin, taking Valerie and handing it to Neil.

"It's a virus."

He concludes sullenly, looking from Tyler to Valerie.

Neil, who has crouched down next to his daughter, laughs softly, looking at his son's stunned face, and hands Valerie the thermometer.

"Put it in your mouth. Just be careful, don't drop it."

He says, trying to speak calmly.

Everyone falls silent as the numbers on the thermometer run inexorably. At that moment, the King comes down from the second floor. She rubs against Andrew's legs, begging for food, as always.

"I won't feed you, don't even hope."

Andrew says reservedly, looking down at the cat.

"Mr-r-r-yau!"

King answers indignantly, sitting down on the floor and demonstratively staring at him.

"No."

Andrew snaps, ignoring her.

Valerie, who has been watching this scene, giggles, but then sneezes again. The thermometer falls out of her mouth, but Neil catches it deftly to keep it from falling to the floor.

A moment later, the device beeps softly, and Neil watches the screen carefully.

"Andrew, 100.94", he reads, then looks at Andrew.

Andrew immediately understands: there is no time to put it off.

"We need to get to Aaron."

He says, quickly closing the first aid kit. Neil nods.

"Go ahead. I’ll stay with the others."

Andrew picks up Valerie, nodding to Neil, and heads for the exit, giving everyone directions along the way.

"Vitamin D and C for everyone. Neil, that goes for you too. The twins, go into quarantine. Tyler, don’t go near her again."

And so, half an hour later, Andrew is sitting in Aaron's office, watching his brother in a white coat carefully examine Valerie.

"Open your mouth and say 'AAA'."

Aaron says softly, smiling slightly to reassure the girl, and holding the flashlight to her face. Valerie obediently opens her mouth.

"Aaaah", she says, yawning in the middle of the process from fatigue.

Andrew holds her hand tightly so that she won't be afraid, but Aaron does a fine job himself, bribing his niece with the promise of a brightly colored lollipop.

"Well?"

Andrew watches the procedure with a sullen expression, nervously tapping his finger on the examination table.

"It's okay."

Aaron concludes, stepping back and removing his gloves. He takes the largest lollipop out of a transparent cabinet and hands it to Vi, winking. Andrew helps his daughter down from the exam table and opens the candy.

"It’s just the flu. Nothing out of the ordinary. Fluids, rest, and medication. The fever will go down in a couple of days."

Andrew nods, feeling both relieved and increasingly anxious. Because he knows that if one child is sick, the rest of them will be too. And no amount of routine or precautions can stop it.

"It’s nothing serious, but she’ll be contagious for a few days."

"Contagious."

Andrew repeats dryly after his brother.

"Yeah, nothing out of the ordinary. But she needs to be away from the twins and Tyler."

Aaron explains, wiping down the table with sanitizer.

"Call me if anything changes."

Andrew really hopes he doesn’t have to call Aaron.

"Hey, Andrew, I almost forgot!"

Andrew turns around, surprised, and catches the lollipop that Aaron throws at him with a kind grin.

"It’s for you", Aaron explains. "I saw the way you were looking at them."

Andrew frowns, but doesn’t answer. He silently pockets the candy, not wanting to admit that he might have been looking at them.

...

Neil greets them at home. His face is tense, and he immediately scoops Valerie up into his arms, gently touching her flushed forehead.

"How is she?"

He asks, looking at Andrew with concern.

"The flu."

He answers briefly, taking off his jacket.

"Aaron said it’s just a bug. It’ll pass, but we’ll have to keep an eye on her."

They lay Valerie down in her bed. She cries, weakly clinging to Neil as he tries to remove the warm blanket from her.

"Papa, I’m cold...", she complains, shivering.

Neil strokes her head, trying to speak softly, even though his heart is breaking with helplessness.

"I know, honey", he says regretfully. "But you have a fever."

He takes a damp towel and gently wipes her forehead and cheeks, wiping away the sweat. Valerie whines, but he manages to calm her down.

Andrew, holding a thermometer, sits down next to her. He checks the temperature and frowns when he sees the numbers.

"102.2, we need to bring it down."

He gives Neil some syrup, and he carefully feeds it to Valerie, although she frowns and turns away, clearly unhappy with the taste.

"I know it’s not tasty, but it will help."

Neil comforts her, coaxing her to take one last sip.

They take turns sitting by her bed all night. Andrew takes her temperature, Neil changes the damp towels, constantly checking to see if she's breathing. They're both exhausted, but neither of them complains.

Tyler peeks into the room early in the morning.

"How is she?"

He asks quietly, afraid to wake his sister.

"Sleeping."

Neil answers, looking back at his eldest son. Tyler nods, but doesn't leave. He stays, sits on the floor next to Valerie's bed, resting his head on Neil's thigh, and watches her with concern.

Valerie gets a little better during the day. She still looks weak, but her cheeks are less hot, and her eyes are clearer. Andrew, who hasn't slept much of the night, goes to take a shower, leaving Neil to take care of her.

Valerie asks for water in a hoarse voice, and Neil helps her up, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"You’re my brave girl."

He says encouragingly, kissing her forehead.

"I promise, as soon as you feel better, we’ll go to the Exy store and you can choose whatever you want."

Valerie smiles weakly in response.

Chris and Jim begin to show their concern the next day. The house is still silent, interrupted only by Valerie’s hoarse breathing and the rustling of damp towels that Neil changes on her forehead.

"Papa, can we go to her?"

Jim asks, peering through Valerie’s half-open bedroom door. Neil, sitting next to the bed, turns around.

"No."

He speaks sternly, but not harshly.

"You could get infected. But we're only going to be here for a second!"

Chris objects, poking his head around the doorway.

"No."

Neil repeats, standing up and gently pushing them both out of the room. The twins reluctantly leave, but reappear half an hour later, as if they've forgotten they were kicked out before.

"I brought her something."

Jim smiles slyly, holding a stuffed frog with wide eyes.

"She loves him. He'll help her!", Chris adds.

Neil sighs, feeling fatigue creep up on him.

"I'll give it to her myself. You go ahead", he replies, taking the toy and pointing to the door.

Andrew, who entered the room at that moment, gives them a stern look.

"Come back again", he says, "and I'll send you to spend the night with Kevin. I promise you won't like it."

The twins quickly disappear from sight. But not for long. An hour later, Chris timidly reappears in the doorway.

"We just wanted to check", he says, shifting from one foot to the other. "Did she call for me?"

Andrew, who is holding the thermometer and staring intently at the readings, slowly looks up at his son.

"No", he says. "Go away."

Jim stands behind his brother, looking over his shoulder into the room and frowning.

"What if she gets worse?", he asks in a whisper.

"That’s enough."

Tyler says, appearing behind them and dragging Valerie away from the room by the scruff of her neck.

"Do you want to get sick too?"

"No..."

Jim says with obvious reluctance, and the two twins leave again. Andrew closes the door behind them, turns to the exhausted Neil and shakes his head.

"They’ll be back", he breathes out.

Neil grins, adjusting the blanket on Valerie.

"Well, they're just worried."

Neil and Andrew are unexpectedly calm when Chris and Jim get sick. It was only a matter of time - in a house with four children, viruses spread faster than they can change the sheets.

Chris is the first to give in.

Night. Their bedroom is silent, broken only by Andrew's soft snores and the purring of the Queen, lying at their feet. Neil only has time to turn on his side, snuggling comfortably against Andrew's warm chest, when the bedroom door swings open with a bang and Chris appears on the threshold.

"What?"

Neil mumbles incoherently, raising himself on his elbow, but then notices how Chris - and it is he - Neil, even in his sleep and in the dark, would never confuse them, bends in half.

"Dad..."

Chris barely says before he throws up all over their bed.

Andrew wakes up instantly, throwing the dirty blanket onto the floor in one motion and reaching out for his son.

"It's okay."

He soothes, leading Chris to a chair in the corner.

"Don't cry, Chris, it's okay."

But Chris is already shaking and sniffling, clutching his stomach.

"I'm sorry."

He wheezes before he vomits again, this time all over the carpet.

Neil stands up, swaying slightly from the sudden movement, and rubs his face, trying to clear the sleep from his body.

"Go to the bathroom."

He says, taking Chris by the shoulders and gently guiding him toward the door.

"Andrew, go with him. I'll take care of the bed."

Andrew just nods, helping his son, who can barely stand on his feet, to the bathroom.

Jim gets sick a little later.

"Couldn’t he have at least waited until the others got better?"

Neil mutters under his breath, looking into the nursery. Jim is curled up under a light blanket, his forehead glistening with sweat, his cheeks flushed.

"I feel terrible."

The boy complains, pulling the blanket up to his chin. Neil puts the tray of medicine on the bedside table.

"I told you not to go in on Valerie", he mutters.

"She sneezed right into my mouth, I couldn’t do anything! It’s not my fault!"

Jim makes a weak excuse, looking at the tray with apprehension.

"Syrup or tablets?", Neil asks.

"Better nothing", Jim tries to wiggle out of it.

"Fine. Syrup then", Neil says, holding out a spoon.

Later, Neil calls Kevin to explain his absence from practice.

"No, Kevin, I’m not coming. Yes, I know about practice. Of course I remember about the game."

Neil replies irritably, pressing the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he puts the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

"Kevin."

Neil sighs, losing his patience.

"The game is at the end of the month. And I’m not leaving Andrew alone with three sick kids."

Neil snaps, hanging up. He knows for sure that they still have a few grueling days ahead of them.

...

"The domino effect."

Neil states dryly, looking disapprovingly at the pile of wet wipes that litter Valerie's bedside table. He's mechanically collecting them in a garbage bag when Andrew, peeking out from behind the door, announces.

"Tyler's sick."

Neil just clenches his jaw, holding back an irritated sigh.

A few minutes later, they enter his room. Tyler is lying in his room, pale as a sheet, with his eyes closed. His face is covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his forehead is burning.

"Ty?"

Andrew calls, coming closer. Tyler opens his eyes, but his gaze is clouded, and his attempt at a smile looks more like a grimace.

His condition alarms Andrew, and he calls Aaron almost immediately. Within half an hour, their family doctor appears at their door, still wearing a medical mask.

"Sophie's sick, too."

Aaron sighs, taking off his coat.

"This virus seems to be catching everyone."

He does a full check of all the children, lingering by Tyler's bed. Andrew watches his brother with tension, his hands clenching nervously.

"Your throat is red", Aaron notes. "The same virus Valerie brought from kindergarten."

"It's not my fault!"

Valerie immediately responds from across the hall, her voice cheerful. She immediately coughs, although she is getting better.

Taking care of Tyler is becoming a challenge for both of them.

"Try to take another sip."

Andrew coaxes, bringing the mug to his son's lips again.

"I'm fine."

He wheezes, trying to rise, but his hands tremble with weakness, and he falls back onto the pillow.

"Ugh, don't say that."

Andrew immediately responds, carefully lifting his head and bringing him a mug of hot tea.

"Learn something good from your father, finally."

"Yes, I have many virtues", Neil smiles tiredly.

Tyler laughs weakly, but this laugh quickly turns into a cough.

"I don't want to anymore", Tyler says stubbornly, turning his head away.

Andrew rolls his eyes, but this time he doesn't argue, carefully putting the mug aside.

"You don't have to sit with me all night."

He wheezes when Andrew and Neil settle down next to his bed.

"You're our child."

Neil answers calmly, wiping his son's forehead with a cool cloth.

"Let us take care of you."

They stay by his bed all night. Neil sits, leafing through a book, Andrew dozes off, but every ten minutes he opens his eyes and checks to see if Tyler is breathing.

"Thank you."

Tyler wheezes, waking up the next morning and noticing them both.

"Get some more sleep."

Andrew says quietly, without opening his eyes.

"You're welcome, Neil says, yawning."

Tyler lets out a sigh and finally allows himself to relax.

...

Andrew and Neil are on the verge of exhaustion. The days seem to blur into an endless cycle of caring for sick children, cleaning, cooking, and trying to stay afloat. Each evening they collapse on the couch, exhausted beyond belief, but rise again to check their temperatures, adjust the blankets, and remind the children to drink more fluids.

However, after a couple of days, Andrew begins to fail, too. He struggles to get to the bedroom, his eyes closing from the pain in his head, barely able to stand.

Neil notices it first.

"You have a fever."

He states, approaching him with a thermometer.

"Stay away."

Andrew warns, moving away.

"Shut up."

Neil snaps, softening his tone slightly. He leans down to brush the blond hair from his damp forehead.

"I want to take care of you."

Andrew tries to argue.

"You’ll get sick too."

"No."

Neil answers firmly, although he himself feels how fatigue is gradually taking over.

Andrew gives him a sarcastic look, but that’s where his strength ends. He closes his eyes and falls into a painful sleep.

Neil is alone now. Alone with four sick children who need attention, and a husband who, although he tries to be strong, can barely sit without support.

...

Neil is balancing on the edge. He hasn’t slept for almost three days, trying to be everywhere at once. Andrew’s temperature rises – he changes his compress again. Chris cries from weakness – Neil puts him to bed, telling him stories to distract him from the pain in his throat. Ty complains of a headache - Neil brings him medicine, ignoring the fatigue spreading through his body.

He cooks chicken soup, sometimes forgetting that he himself hasn't eaten since morning. In between tasks, he checks on Andrew, changing the sheets and reminding him to drink water.

"I can do it myself."

Andrew wheezes when Neil brings him a mug of tea.

"You can't do anything right now."

Neil's voice softens, but his tone is sharp.

"Just let me do it for you."

The kids are taking care of him as best they can, too.

"Can we help?"

Tyler asks, peeking around the door.

"Yeah."

Neil answers, staring at the sink full of dishes.

"Just... clean up the toys in the living room, okay?"

Chris and Jim nod and leave to do the errand.

...

Almost a week later, Nicky calls. Andrew can barely find the strength to pick up the phone and listen to Nicky's outrage at how no one told him anything.

"Andrew?"

Nicky's voice rings out after an hour of lecturing.

"He's asleep."

Neil answers, taking the phone from Andrew's sleeping form and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Oh. That's good. He needs more rest. And you too, Neil."

"I'm resting."

He snorts, even though he can't remember the last time he slept for more than two hours straight.

"I know you're lying."

Nicky cuts him off categorically.

"Listen, I'll cook something and come over to see you in the evening. You won't have to cook dinner."

"Thank you."

Neil exhales, allowing his voice to waver for the first time in days.

"Come on, we're a family," Nicky answers softly.

When he arrives in the evening with containers of hot food, Neil can barely thank him - he's too tired. But Nicky smiles, straightens his disheveled hair and says.

"You're great. But don't forget to eat yourself, promise?"

"I promise."

...

After almost a week of struggling with the disease, their home is finally starting to come back to life. One by one, the children are starting to come to their senses.

Valerie is the first to recover and is already chasing cats around the house.

Chris and Jim, who have lost their usual enthusiasm, are slowly recovering. They have already stopped complaining about body aches, and their red faces are gradually acquiring their usual healthy color. However, instead of pranks, they spend time on the floor with construction sets or books.

Tyler, their oldest child, is slower to return to life than the others. Still lethargic, he finally gets out of bed. His pallor is too noticeable, but he takes a plate of soup prepared by Neil with a smile and eats normally for the first time in a long time.

Andrew, although still weak, is already smiling. Lying in bed, he watches how the children gradually return to their usual rhythm, and his eyes fill with relief.

And Neil no longer runs from one room to another with thermometers and medicines. For the first time in days, he sits down at the kitchen table, his hands wrapped around a hot mug of coffee.

"I’m fine."

He says, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Are you sure, Papa?"

Tyler asks, cautiously stepping closer.

"Yeah, I’m fine."

Neil repeats, adding a confident smile. He takes a sip of coffee, feeling the warmth of the drink spread through his body, releasing the tension of the last few days.

"I can’t believe we survived that", he chuckles, leaning back in his chair.

And then Neil sneezes loudly, nearly dropping his mug on the kitchen floor. The kids and Andrew freeze, looking at him in shock.

"Neil…"

Andrew begins, but then trails off, unsure of how to express his horror. Neil raises his hand, showing that everything is under control, and laughs.

"I’m fine, honestly!"

"Everyone took a step back."

Andrew says, tired but with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

The children immediately run away screaming, fearing a second outbreak. Neil just shakes his head, laughing even louder.

Chapter Text

It all starts with a commercial that is constantly playing on TV. The screen flashes images of huge water slides, pools sparkling in the sun, and smiling children. The advertising voice sounds inspired.

"The highest slides! The most spacious pools! All the best - only with us!"

Chris sits on the floor, cross-legged, and watches the changing frames with wide-open eyes. His face is filled with delight, and his lips move in a barely audible whisper.

"Wow..."

Even when the commercial ends and the interrupted cartoon appears on the screen, Chris continues to look ahead.

"Just wow..."

"It would be cool to go there."

Nodding, Jim quietly says, sitting on the couch with a book in his hands. Chris abruptly turns to his brother.

"I want to go there!"

"Me too."

Jim sighs, pretending to still be more interested in the book.

"Then let's tell our parents right now! Papa will definitely want to go, he loves this kind of thing!"

Chris yells excitedly, jumping to his feet. His energy instantly turns into action: he runs for the stairs to go up to his parents' room.

But Jim quickly slams the book shut and stands up, catching Chris by the wrist.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

"To Papa's."

Chris replies sincerely, as if it were obvious. Jim rolls his eyes and snorts.

"You're an idiot."

"Hey!"

Chris snaps up indignantly, yanking his hand away.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?"

Jim raises an eyebrow and looks at his brother as if he has to explain something elementary.

"Wake up papa, tired from playing, and ask him to take us to the water park? Seriously?"

Chris pauses for a moment, his excitement fading, giving way to thoughtfulness.

"I hadn't thought of that."

He admits, wincing and crossing his arms over his chest. Jim smirks, seeing his brother's words begin to sink in.

"So you have a plan?"

Chris asks defiantly.

Jim smugly crosses his arms over his chest, copying his brother's pose.

"Better than yours, anyway."

"So what?"

Chris asks incredulously, squinting.

"First we have to convince our parents that this is a good idea," Jim begins. "Then find the right moment. Like when they're both in a good mood."

"And how are we going to convince them?"

Chris continues to squint suspiciously. Jim rolls his eyes and starts counting on his fingers.

"Ty will be here in a couple of hours. Dad will be back in the evening with Vi. So we have plenty of time..."

"And Papa?"

Chris interrupts him, raising his finger and pointing upwards.

"He's tired."

Jim answers in a didactic tone.

"And he'll sleep until the evening, until Dad wakes him up for dinner. Right?"

"So..."

Chris drawls, clearly not understanding where his brother is going with this.

"Then we should be able to do everything in that time."

"Do what? What are you talking about?"

Jim leans forward slightly to add seriousness to his voice.

"Chris, that's the first rule: if you want something, first appease him."

"Can't we just ask? Papa loves rides..."

Chris shrugs, puzzled. Jim sighs heavily.

"We can, but our chances are better if we prepare. You want to go to the water park, right?"

"I do."

"Then listen. First, there are the dishes to wash, homework to do, and Storm and the cats to feed."

"I’ll do the food!"

Chris shouts, already running into the kitchen. Jim watches him, then rolls his eyes, slowly heading for the sink.

"Of course… I came up with the plan, and now I have to do all the dirty work again…"

He mutters under his breath. Jim stands at the sink, vigorously scrubbing the plates with a sponge. Chris, meanwhile, is busy in the kitchen: filling bowls for Storm and the cats, then dragging them to their place. One of the cats, King, is already spinning around underfoot, meowing pitifully.

"Wait a minute!"

Chris mutters, but there’s a smile in his voice.

As soon as the dishes are done, Jim and Chris take up rags. They wipe the dust off the shelves, tables, and windowsills. Chris, in his usual style, rolls up the rag into a wet ball and throws it at his brother.

"Hey, stop it!"

Jim snaps, shooting Chris an annoyed look, who only laughs in response.

After that, they vacuum, Jim carefully going through every corner, and Chris making sure not to leave a single hair on the carpet. Then the two of them brush Storm. The dog sits patiently, only occasionally snorting and slapping his tail on the ground.

"Look at all that fur!"

Chris says, picking up a whole bunch of hair.

In the end, Jim grabs a watering can and goes to water the flowers: small daisies that Tyler and Vi planted this year. Jim is surprised to see that they've started to bloom.

Finally, when the work is finished, Jim and Chris fall onto the living room couch with a groan.

"I'm going to fucking die."

Chris breathes out, closing his eyes.

"Hey, tongue."

Jim scolds him tiredly, but his voice lacks severity.

"What? Dad's not here," Chris shrugs.

A few minutes later, the front door opens and Tyler walks in. He takes off his shoes, places them neatly against the wall, then freezes, looking around the clean living room.

"Wow, it's so clean here! What happened?"

Chris, without lifting his head from the couch, says lazily.

"We want to go to the water park."

Tyler gives him a long look, then looks at Jim.

"Tring to fawn?"

"Well, sort of... yeah", Jim shrugs.

Tyler grins and looks around the room again.

"Good plan. Did you get everything done?"

"Almost."

Jim grumbles gloomily.

"All that's left is homework, but I'm exhausted."

Tyler snorts and waves his hand towards the stairs.

"Okay, let's go upstairs, I'll help you. We'll finish faster."

They struggle to get up from the couch - there's only a little bit left to their destination.

...

Andrew returns home and immediately notices that something is wrong, but he doesn't understand what exactly yet. Valerie holds his hand, periodically hanging and tucking her legs under herself.

"And then the princess kissed the frog, and it became a prince!"

Valerie says excitedly, looking at her father with her big eyes.

"Fascinating."

Andrew answers abruptly, lost in his thoughts. Something has changed, but he can't figure out what exactly.

He helps his daughter take off her bright summer sneakers - the same ones that Neil bought for her. They are terribly impractical, with blinking LEDs, but Valerie fell in love with them at first sight. "They glow in the dark, Papa!" - and how could Neil resist?

"I want to do that too!"

Valerie says excitedly, distracting him from his thoughts.

"Molly suggested going to the swamp..."

"The swamp?"

Andrew immediately becomes wary, frowning.

"Well, I meant the pond."

Valerie hastily corrects herself.

"Why?"

"Dad, weren't you listening to me?"

Valerie pauses, folding her arms over her small hips.

"To find a frog! Then I’ll have my own real prince! And I’ll live in a castle!"

Andrew sighs heavily and stops to look down at her.

"Valerie..."

He begins in a stern tone.

"You can’t kiss frogs. Do you want to get disgusting warts on your face?"

"Ugh, no!"

Valerie winces, shaking her head in displeasure.

"Then no frogs."

"None."

She agrees quietly, but there’s a hint of disappointment in her voice.

Andrew walks into the kitchen, still feeling something strange. His gaze falls on the perfectly clean sink, where there was a whole mountain of dirty dishes just during the day. He runs his gaze around the kitchen – all the surfaces are shiny, the floors are washed. Even the dining table, usually littered with Valerie’s drawings and the boys’ schoolbooks, is now perfectly clean. And Neil, who had just arrived from a game in another city and was most likely catching up on sleep, couldn't have done it.

That's what was wrong.

The house was clean.

"Oh, man...", he begins.

"What?"

Valerie asks, looking up with interest.

Andrew squints and goes into the living room. There he notices that the pillows on the couch are neatly straightened, and the fluffy carpet has clearly been vacuumed.

His suspicions are growing stronger. He's about to call the kids when he hears a faint knock and sees Jim and Chris coming down the stairs, dragging their feet with difficulty. They both look like they've just run a marathon.

"Dad?"

Andrew looks up at the second floor, where Chris's blond head is sticking out. His shy smile and the purple nails he recently painted give him away.

"What have you done?"

Andrew asks warily, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing yet... Ouch!"

Chris winces, rubbing the back of his head, when Jim appears from behind him.

"We didn't do anything", he says. "We just wanted to make you happy."

"Just?"

"Yeah!"

The brothers nod in unison, and Chris does it with such sincerity that Andrew can't help but believe it. Although the wariness remains.

"Okay, let's say. Is Ty home?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm here."

Tyler responds, appearing in sight. He puts an arm around the brothers' shoulders and winks at Valerie.

"Wake up Neil."

Andrew says, taking off his jacket and heading to the kitchen.

"And let's have dinner."

"What's for dinner?"

Chris immediately speaks up, jumping up and down as if gravity can't hold him.

"Pizza!"

Valerie shouts happily, flashing a wide smile.

"Did someone say "pizza"?"

Neil says sleepily, appearing in the doorway and rubbing his eyes. There are distinct red marks from the pillow on his face, and his dark hair is sticking out in all directions. Despite this, for Andrew, he is still the most attractive person in the world.

"Wash your face, at least."

Andrew chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It hurts to watch."

The table is in the usual chaos for their family. Valerie reaches for a second slice of pizza, although the sauce is already smeared on her cheeks. Tyler breaks off crusts and puts them on a plate. Jim and Chris whisper and giggle, clearly planning something.

Neil sits a little to the side, tired, with glasses on his nose. His vision gets worse when he's very tired, and Andrew always makes him wear glasses, although Neil resists for the sake of appearances. He blinks to finally come to his senses, and looks around the family gathered at the table.

"So..."

Neil smiles weakly, looking from one to the other.

"Can someone tell me why our place is so clean?"

The boys exchange glances, their faces instantly becoming suspiciously innocent. Andrew notices this and raises his eyebrows slightly.

"Ty?"

"It’s not my fault", Tyler shrugs, taking a bite of pizza.

Chris and Jim, seeing that they can’t avoid this, start talking at the same time.

"We just wanted to help!", Jim begins.

"And anyway, Dad, you like things clean!", Chris adds.

"They even washed the dishes."

Tyler chimes in, nodding toward the sink.

"And they swept up all the dust! And they brushed Storm! And they did their homework!"

Jim rattles off the list, looking at Chris to continue.

"We just… really want to go to a water park", Chris blurts out.

Neil’s face suddenly becomes excited, his eyes widening.

"A water park?"

He leans forward, as if he can’t believe his ears.

"With slides and pools?"

"Yeah!"

Chris nods enthusiastically, jumping up in his chair.

"There are such huge slides, Papa! We saw the commercials, Papa, it's awesome!"

"Really awesome", Jim adds.

"Let's go?", Valerie begs pleadingly.

The whole family freezes, turning their gaze to Andrew. Even Neil, who is already mentally imagining himself sliding down a water slide with the kids, looks at her husband.
Andrew exhales tiredly, seeing those glowing eyes, and raises his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Let's go", he finally says. "On the weekend."

Joyful shouts fill the kitchen. Valerie hugs Neil, Jim and Chris high-five each other, and Tyler just smiles, watching the general enthusiasm.

Andrew looks at Neil, who finally looks rested and even slightly excited, and feels a little calmer.

...

Neil is sitting on their bed, excitedly telling Andrew about their trip to the water park. His eyes are shining like a child's, and his arms are waving as if he's already ridden a giant water slide.

"And imagine: this slide twists like this!"

He gestures with his hand, almost touching the lamp.

"And then you fly straight into the pool!"

"Neil, go to bed", Andrew calls calmly.

Neil grumbles under his breath, but sighs and lies down next to him. As soon as his head hits the pillow, Andrew takes off his glasses with a caring gesture.

"I slept all day," Neil protests.

"And?"

Andrew raises an eyebrow at him with a serious expression and turns off the light, hugging him tightly.

"How was the game?"

Andrew whispers, his voice soft, almost lulling. Neil chuckles.

"Pretend like you haven't seen it."

"Shut up", Andrew responds shortly, but his voice is softer than usual.

Silence gradually fills the room. Neil is almost asleep, but suddenly opens his eyes.

"Andrew", he calls seriously.

"Yes", he answers without opening his eyes.

"Valerie is a girl."

"Thank you, genius, otherwise I didn't know. Sleep, you're talking nonsense."

But Neil is already extricating himself from his embrace, sitting up in bed and turning on the light.

"No, I mean she's a girl!"

Andrew winces at the bright light, squinting in irritation, and sits down next to him.

"And?"

"Andrew, are we going to take her to the boys' locker room?"

Andrew is silent for a few seconds, processing Neil's words. Then his face changes.

"Damn."

Neil snorts, shaking his head.

"She's only four, but I don't want to take her there."

"We won't."

Andrew says firmly, determination in his voice. He won't let that happen. Neil sighs, rubbing his face with his hands.

"But we can't send her to the girls' alone, either. She might slip or something. She's too young."

"Then what do we do?"

"We need help."

Neil shrugs, his eyes becoming thoughtful.

"You mean a woman."

Andrew clarifies, already guessing where he's going with this.

Neil nods, looking at him seriously.

...

"Hello, everyone! Here I am!"

Nicky shouts loudly, throwing open the door without knocking and pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head. His voice echoes through the house. Erik follows him in, struggling to hold several heavy bags in his arms.

"Why do you ever need so much stuff?"

Neil wonders, trying to help Valerie stuff all the toys she considers vital for her trip to the water park into her small pink backpack.

Jim sits next to her, lazily flipping through the pages of his book, clearly determined to finish it before she gets into the danger zone – the pool.

"What do you mean, why?"

Nicky laughs, placing his hands on his hips.

"Everything we need is here."

"I don't see any of your stuff."

Erik says, looking around. Neil shrugs, as if it's not important.

"I don't have anything."

"Neil..."

Nicky sighs.

"I don't need anything."

Neil insists, fiddling with Valerie's backpack zipper.

"You don't need skin cancer either?"

Aaron's voice rings out, following Nicky in, grinning discreetly. Neil's head snaps up.

"Don't you dare."

Neil says menacingly. Aaron raises an eyebrow.

"Cancer?"

Jim whispers, looking from his dad to his uncle. Neil places a gentle hand on his son's shoulder, reassuring him.

"This is just a bad joke, Jim."

He says quietly, throwing a warning glance at Aaron.

"Help Valerie."

"Neil, use precautions so as not to get on my brother's nerves. Again."

"Apply it now."

Kevin, who came in with Aaron, adds with a slight pressure. Neil rolls his eyes and deftly dodges a tube of sunscreen thrown in his direction.

At that moment, the noise increases: Sophie runs into the house, overtaking her mother, with a joyful squeal, not looking at the road, and crashes right into Valerie.

"Sophie!"

Valerie screams.

"Ow!"

Sophie screams happily.

The girls quickly hug, and within a second they are chatting non-stop, interrupting each other.

"And as soon as we eat ice cream..."

"And we will play mermaids..."

"And also the slides!"

"Sophie!"

A scream from Chris is heard, who jumps over the steps to quickly see his sister. She steps aside laughing, and Chris runs right into Nicky.

"And I'm glad to see you, honey!"

Nicky laughs, hugging him.

Andrew appears on the stairs, wincing at the noise. Tyler comes down behind him, wearing a loose black T-shirt, a cap pulled down over his eyes, and an earphone in his ear.

"Is someone in a bad mood?"

Katelyn asks with interest, having already managed to settle into a chair.

"Didn’t get enough sleep."

Tyler mutters, walking past. Katelyn pulls him by the hand and leaves a light kiss on his cheek.

"Hi, sweetheart."

The house is in chaos: everyone is greeting each other and vying with each other to share the latest news.

Andrew closes his eyes tiredly, inhaling deeply, as if this helps him stay calm.

"Okay, that’s it."

Neil finally announces, taking matters into his own hands.

"Everyone to the cars!"

He deftly directs the entire family towards the exit, but turns around and notices Andrew holding tightly to the handle of the bag with their things, clearly unwilling to move.

"Just one day."

Neil whispers, coming closer. He holds out his hand, and Andrew lets out a strangled breath, squeezing it back.

...

The gatherings by the cars and the trip to the water park turn into a real mess. Everyone is running somewhere, arguing, shouting over each other. The situation heats up near the locker rooms. Valerie, clinging to her father’s hand, does not want to let him go at all.

"Dad, I’m not going!"

She declares decisively, pressing herself against his leg.

"Valerie, you’re a girl, and your parents are boys. You should go to different locker rooms."

Katelyn explains, sitting down next to her so that she is level with the girl.

"No!"

Valerie only squeezes Andrew’s fingers tighter. Sophie tilts her head towards her sister, smiling slyly.

"Oh, but at least we’ll be together, and Chris won’t be able to bother us."

"Hey!"

Chris says indignantly. Aaron immediately casts a reproachful glance at his daughter.

"That was rude."

He says sternly, crossing his arms.

"Apologize."

"Sorry."

Sophie says reluctantly, still smiling.

Somehow everyone sorts themselves out: the girls leave with Katelyn, and the boys head to their locker room. And soon everyone is gathered by the pool.

Neil is already looking at the water slides with an enthusiastic gleam in his eyes.

"This is amazing!"

He almost whispers.

"I didn’t think it was so great!"

Andrew, slightly moving away from the general crowd, carefully watches his family. His eyes linger on Neil for a second. Andrew only sighs and waves his hand. He takes sunscreen out of his bag and looks at the kids, sighing.

"We'll go one by one."

Chris winces, taking a step back.

"Ugh, I don't want it. It's nasty."

"Do you want to get sunburned?"

Andrew raises an eyebrow at his son.

Chris shakes his head and takes a step forward, looking displeased. Andrew quickly smears the cream over his shoulders and backs. Finally, he gently pats Chris on the nose with his cream-covered hand.

"Next."

Jim calmly approaches, showing no emotion, while Andrew rubs the cream into his skin. Valerie whines softly.

"It's cold, Dad."

"Be patient", he says softly.

When it's Tyler and Neil's turn, Andrew quickly smears only their faces. Both of them remain in thick T-shirts, clearly not going to take them off because of the scars. Andrew himself is in no hurry to undress, preferring to keep his shirt on. He knows he won't be swimming, and he certainly isn't going to go down the slides.

"Kevin."

He calls, turning to his friend, who is lazily looking at his phone.

"Me?"

Kevin looks up in surprise.

"Or burn. That's your choice", Andrew answers calmly.

Kevin rolls his eyes, but sits down next to Andrew, allowing him to smear the cream over his shoulders and neck.

"Thank you", he says quietly, rubbing his nose.

Neil takes the cream from Andrew and gently touches his face, carefully covering every part of his skin not covered by bandages and a shirt. Andrew closes his eyes, relaxing under his touch, and listens to the noise around him.

Nicky and Erik laugh loudly, joking about something. Aaron patiently explains to Sophie why she needs a hat, despite her carefully styled hair. Kevin, still grumbling, reminds them that he and Neil could have played Exy instead.

In the background, Katelyn bustles about, helping the children adjust their bathing suits and hats, and Valerie, finally satisfied, adjusts her pink sunhat with glitter.

"Now on the slides!"

Chris shouts loudly and, without waiting for the others, runs ahead.

"Be careful."

Andrew admonishes him, but Chris is already far away.

"Well, here we go."

Neil grins, looking after his son.

"Will you catch up with him?"

"It's your turn."

Andrew throws out.

"I won't go into the water after him."

Neil laughs and runs after Chris.

...

The water park really lives up to their expectations. The advertising did not deceive: huge water slides rise to the sky, sparkling with multi-colored stripes. One pool flows into another, connected by rivers with a lazy current. Huge waterfalls crash down with a roar, sun loungers and umbrellas are scattered around. At one end of the park there is a platform for diving, at the other - a children's area with shallow pools, fountains and mini-slides.

The noise of screams, splashes of water and cheerful laughter spreads throughout the water park. The aroma of ice cream, freshly squeezed juices and something fried flies in the air, making this place even cozier.

Their large group splits up a bit. Aaron and Katelyn prefer to relax by the pool, and, leaving Sophie with Andrew and Neil, quickly disappear somewhere together. Neil and Chris run from one slide to another, laughing and egging each other on. Erk lingers with Andrew at the bottom of the highest slide, waiting for Nicky to slide down with a joyful squeal.

"Want to go?"

Erik asks, looking at the slide.

"No, I’ll feel sick."

Jim answers honestly, wincing. Erik nods sympathetically.

"I understand. I get carsick on those too. Maybe you want to go over there?"

He points to the diving platform.

"You can jump from the tower there."

Jim lights up with the idea. He turns to his father hopefully.

"Can I?"

Andrew hesitates a little, but, looking at his son’s satisfied face, nods.

"Sure. Just be careful, okay?"

"I’m always careful, Dad."

Jim replies with a serious expression. Andrew glances gratefully at Erik, who follows Jim to keep an eye on him. He watches them out of the corner of his eye and then glances at Valerie. The girl is sitting next to him. Her face is still slightly tear-stained – she really wanted to go down this slide, but because of the age restrictions, they didn’t let her. The tears have dried, but the mood is still spoiled. She finishes her ice cream in silence, sniffling occasionally.

"Want to come with them?"

Andrew asks her softly. Valerie shakes her head.

"I want to stay with you."

"As soon as Nicky goes down, we’ll go on the other slide."

Andrew promises, wiping her sticky fingers with a napkin.

"Okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise."

From that moment on, Valerie doesn’t take her eyes off the slide. Finally, Nicky comes flying down with a loud scream, the rubber ring barely hanging on to his back. Sophie comes screaming after him. They crash into the pool, sending up a fountain of spray around them. Nicky is the first to emerge, dragging the rubber ring with him.

"Awesome!"

He shouts excitedly, pulling Sophie out, who is shaking all over but grinning from ear to ear.

Andrew helps the girl out of the pool, asking briefly.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah! Great!"

"We’re going to the other slide."

Andrew says, taking Valerie’s hand.

"Will you watch the kids?"

Nicky waves.

"Sure, I’ll meet them all here."

"Can I come with you?"

Sophie asks quickly. Andrew nods. She runs closer, and he grabs both girls’ hands tightly.

Meanwhile, 100 feet up, Neil stands next to Chris, who shifts nervously from foot to foot, looking down at the long, twisting slide. He tries to speak calmly, trying to reassure his son.

"It’s not scary at all."

"Papa, I’m scared."

Chris whispers, taking a step back. This forces them to give way to other water park visitors standing behind them in line.

"We can go back down if you want."

Neil offers softly.

"You don’t have to ride."

"But I want to…"

Chris groans, wringing his hands, and watches as the others slide down calmly, laughing loudly.

"Chris, why are you scared?"

"What if I get stuck in there?"

Kevin, standing next to him, snorts loudly, looking the boy up and down.

"Chris, have you even looked in the mirror? You’re not big enough to get stuck in that tube."

Chris frowns, still clinging to Neil's hand.

"Trust me, it won't happen."

Neil reassures him.

"But..."

Neil hugs his son, holding him tightly. Tyler looks at his brother sympathetically.

"Tell us what's wrong so we can fix it."

"I..."

Chris pauses for a second, as if considering whether to share this.

"I saw a movie on TV..."

He begins thoughtfully, looking down.

"So?"

Neil frowns, not understanding what this is about.

"About the water park."

And then Tyler, standing a little to the side, abruptly turns away, covering his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing. Neil exchanges surprised glances with Kevin.

"And what happened there?"

He asks cautiously.

"There were metal knives in the pipe! They were spinning and cutting all the people into small pieces!"

Tyler can no longer hold back, laughing out loud, burying his face in his elbow. Neil involuntarily begins to shake with laughter, covering his mouth with his hand, but eventually gives in too.

"Come on, Papa! Don’t laugh at me!"

Chris is indignant, blushing with resentment.

"Sorry, sorry."

Neil quickly wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his T-shirt.

"I promise you, there are no knives."

"How can you know that?"

"There is no blood in the water, which means no one has died there yet. So everything is fine."

Neil assures him, trying to keep a serious face. Chris is still a little hesitant, but glances at the slide.

"We go together?"

"Of course, together."

Neil deliberately took a double lap. When it is their turn, he sits in the back, although he knows that this way they will go faster - simply because Chris wants his papa to hold him.

The water park employee smiles and asks.

"Ready?"

Chris squeezes Neil's hands so hard that his fingers turn white.

"Ready", Neil answers for both of them.

A strong push, and they start moving. Chris immediately starts screaming - not from horror, but rather from a sudden surge of emotion. It's getting dark, and Neil realizes that it's actually a little creepy. The tube is twisting and turning, and they're suddenly out of the darkness and into the sunlight.

"Papaaaaa!", Chris squeals.

And then, a few moments later, they're thrown into a small pool at the base of the slide. Water splashes in all directions. Nicky is already there, waiting for them, clapping loudly and laughing.

"Wow! Neil, you should have seen your face!"

Neil helps his son out of the water, laughing.

"How did you like it?"

Chris is shaking, but smiling widely.

"Papa, that was awesome! Let's do it again?"

Tyler is next to slide down. He lands in the pool with a joyful cry. Ty wrings out his shirt as he gets up, now stuck to his body.

"Awesome", he says happily, shaking out his wet hair.

They wait for Kevin to come down, and Neil waves to Erik and Andrew, indicating that they are going to another slide.

The new slide they come to is open. It is tall and twisted, like a giant snake, glittering in the sun. Chris looks at it with admiration, his eyes shining.

"Wow", he breathes.

"You’re not going to chicken out?"

Sophie nudges him in the side, smiling slyly. Chris proudly straightens his shoulders, puffing out his chest.

"It was a moment of weakness. Got it?"

"Sure."

Sophie agrees, nodding so earnestly that it’s clearly mocking. They start to argue, but Nicky interrupts with a loud voice.

"Okay, stop making fun of your brother."

With that, he strides toward the slide first.

"The last one is a rotten egg!"

Chris and Sophie scream at the same time and race each other. The slide does look scarier than the last one. It's steep, with sharp drops, and they bounce around a bit on the turns. Neil, who's sitting next to Chris, tightens his grip on him when he squeals at the sudden jerk. For a moment, Neil thinks Chris might slip out of his arms, but he doesn't. Behind him, Sophie laughs so loudly that it almost drowns out the roar of the water.

"Best slide!"

Chris shouts, his eyes shining with delight.

"Can we do it again?"

But Neil shakes his head, looking around at the other kids.

"Go with Tyler. We're going that way."

He points to the pool.

"When you're done, come back."

Chris nods in agreement, already running back to the slide.

"I'm first!"

Sophie shouts, overtaking her brother. Neil hands control to Erik and Tyler.

"Keep an eye on Nicky and Kevin too."

He adds with a smile, to which Ty nods.

They walk towards the pool. Neil runs up and dives into the water, creating a huge cloud of splashes. Valerie, wearing a bright yellow life jacket, carefully steps into the water, glancing at her father.

"Jump, baby. I'll catch you."

Neil calls, holding out his arms.

Valerie jumps, and Neil catches her by the armpits, preventing her from diving in completely. He adjusts her sun hat, even though he himself refuses to wear a cap, despite his own demands for children.

"Ready?"

He asks, starting to spin Valerie around in the water, creating small waves.

She laughs, but screams when Jim jumps into the pool next to her, creating a fountain of splashes.

"Look!"

Jim shouts, swimming to the surface. Neil claps for him.

"Well done! 10 points."

"Out of 100!"

Valerie teases, and Neil pinches her nose.

Don’t tease your brother."

Jim sticks his tongue out at his sister, then challenges Neil to a breath-holding contest.

They play in the water, screaming and laughing like little kids.

"Jaws, Neil? Are you serious?"

Neil ignores Andrew, humming the theme song to a movie about a shark that kills people.

He bends down to the water and pretends to go hunting for his children. They try to swim away from him with splashes, but Neil is much faster even in the water and, diving, surfaces very close, grabbing the children by their little feet in the water along the way.

"Papa, don't!"

Jim laughs, trying to swim faster, but Neil dives sharply, disappearing under the water. When he appears at the surface next to Valerie, she almost chokes with laughter.

"Ah! Dad, save me!"

She reaches out to Andrew, who is sitting nearby and calmly watching all this chaos. Valerie's little hands helplessly slap the water more than help her swim.

"Come to me, I'll save you."

Andrew says with a serious look and dives into the water too.

Neil stops for a moment, watching him. When Andrew emerges, a slight smile is on his face, and his light bangs are stuck to his wet forehead, making him look unexpectedly vulnerable and... incredibly attractive. Neil swallows automatically.

The wet fabric of his shirt fits tightly around Andrew's shoulders and chest, emphasizing his sculpted muscles. The water flows down in thin streams, sparkling in the sun's rays like a scattering of small diamonds. Neil catches himself thinking that, despite the years together, he still has difficulty taking his eyes off his husband.

Andrew, grabbing Valerie, lifts her out of the water, making her laugh even louder.

"You're safe now."

He says with a slight grin, glancing sideways at Neil. Neil shakes his head, hiding his smile, and puts on a serious look.

"You're ruining my hunt, Andrew."

"Isn't it too cruel to hunt your own children?"

But Neil isn't listening anymore. His gaze returns to Andrew, to the calm and confidence he radiates. The water, the noise, the children's laughter - everything around him becomes just a background.

"God, I love him."

Neil thinks, and his heart seems to skip a beat.

Soon the others return to them. Sophie and Valerie do not miss the chance to make fun of Chris. And Chris, indignant, slaps the water, splashing them both.

"Hey!"

Valerie screams, trying to run away, but Chris chases her, splashing even harder.

Eventually, everyone joins in the game: someone runs away, someone catches up, and the entire pool becomes an arena for a water fight.

"Stop it."

Neil laughs, dodging another stream of water.

Andrew swims a little to the side, watching the chaos with a quiet smile. He looks at the children, their happy faces, at Neil playing with them, and thinks about what a wonderful day it is.

"Dad, come join us!"

Valerie calls, waving her hand, standing knee-deep in the water.

...

They head noisily to the restaurant at the water park, wet and happy. Water drips from their hair and clothes, but no one cares.

Sophie excitedly tells Katelyn and Aaron about how she and Chris rode the slide.

"It was sooo high, almost to the sky! And Chris got scared."

She smiles slyly, glancing at her brother. Sophie and Valerie laugh happily, looking at Chris’s flushed face.

"That’s not true!"

He exclaims indignantly, frowning.

"Then why did you take so long to come?"

Sophie asks, squinting her eyes pretending to be squinting. Neil puts a calming hand on his son’s shoulder.

"Actually, I was the one who was scared", he says seriously. "I thought I might get stuck in the pipes."

"Or there could be blades."

Ty adds, sounding like a connoisseur.
Andrew turns to him sharply, as does Aaron, both saying.

"What the..."

But before they can finish, the waitress approaches their table with a friendly smile.

"Good afternoon! Ready to order?"

"Yes, we are!"

Nicky answers first, interrupting Andrew, and starts listing, pointing at each one.

"We’ll have four large pizzas: three pepperoni and one with pineapple."

"Perverts", Aaron snorts quietly.

"Next, four chicken nuggets, six fries, five milkshakes... wait a second... one, two... six sodas."

"I'll have a coffee."

Neil raises his hand.

"It's so hot today! What coffee?"

Kevin winces, shaking his head. Andrew frowns, and Aaron, as if from a textbook, leans forward and states authoritatively.

"You need to avoid overheating and dehydration. And caffeine is a diuretic, it will only make the problem worse."

Neil sighs, realizing that arguing with everyone at once is useless.

"Okay. Then coffee and a glass of water. Are you happy now?"

Aaron nods, as if he personally won this argument.

"Everything?"

The waitress clarifies, holding up her notepad.

"And ice cream!"

Valerie suddenly shouts, raising her hand, like in school.

"You already had one."

Andrew reminds calmly.

"But, Dad!"

"Come on, Andrew. We're at a water park!"

Nicky intervenes with a wide smile.

"Okay. And ice cream. But later."

Andrew gave in, and Valerie clapped her hands happily. The waitress repeats the order again and, giving them a smile, leaves.

"I hope we haven’t forgotten anything."

Neil says, looking around the table, where there is already a stack of towels and several glasses of water.

When the waitress leaves, the table becomes noisy. While waiting for their food, the children are talking animatedly, telling stories of their adventures, as if their parents weren’t there.

Neil looks at them and smiles: the children look so happy that no dirty hands or stains on their clothes can ruin this moment.

Andrew smiles reservedly, watching his family. His hand accidentally touches Neil's thigh.

...

The ride home is silent. Neil helps Valerie into her child seat, checks the seat belt, and then sits down in the passenger seat himself.

Chris snores, leaning against the window, his forehead hitting the glass every now and then on the bumps, making Neil frown with displeasure every time. He bends down to put his son's sweater under his head.

Jim, with his eyes closed, tries to endure - he is carsick again, and Andrew tries to drive as smoothly as possible. Tyler sits next to him, plugging his ears with headphones, pulling his hood up and, it seems, even sleeping.

Valerie is the only one awake. She happily swings her legs, watching the sunset slowly blaze out the window, painting everything in soft pink and gold hues.

"If you need me, call me
No matter where you are, no matter how far..."

"Andrew, turn it up."

Neil asks, pointing to the radio.

Andrew turns the music up a little. Neil starts to hum along quietly, and Valerie, hearing the familiar melody, also joins in the song.

"Just call my name, I'll be there in a hurry
On that you can depend and never worry..."

Andrew, smiling involuntarily, watches Neil out of the corner of his eye.

He remembers how many years ago he and Neil were driving to Columbia. Neil was sitting next to him, also humming along to the song, and the rest of them were sleeping in the back seat. The only thing that's changed is that Neil's hair is shorter and darker now, and he smiles more often.

Andrew holds the steering wheel with one hand and reaches out to Neil with the other, resting it on his thigh. Neil smiles, still singing, and intertwines their fingers.

"Ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wild enough
To keep me from you"

The sunset's rays reflect off the mirrors, filling the car with a warm glow.

"It's a beautiful day."

Neil says quietly. Andrew nods, squeezing his hand.

"It's wonderful."

...

*Bonus*

Valerie sits between Neil and Andrew, engrossed in her ice cream. Her cheeks and nose are dirty, but she doesn't mind. She watches Neil take a slice of pineapple pizza, and her eyes light up with interest.

"Papa, can I try one?"

She asks, holding out her hand.

"Seriously?"

Tyler asks from across the table.

"You want to eat it?"

"Why not?"

Neil laughs, handing her a piece. There’s a collective groan around the table.

"Ugh, don’t eat it!"

Chris warns her, shaking her head as if she’s holding a bomb.

"Seriously."

Jim backs him up.

"Pineapple shouldn’t be on pizza. It’s unnatural."

Valerie, ignoring them, brings the piece to her mouth and takes a bite, chewing slowly under the narrowed gaze of her brothers.

"Mmm, delicious!"

She declares loudly, grinning from ear to ear. Neil immediately throws his hands up in the air in triumph.

"I told you so! That’s my girl!"

He leans over and playfully kisses the top of her head, causing her light Panama hat to slide slightly to the side.

"Do you want more?"

Neil asks. She nods vigorously, handing her another piece.

"First Exy, now pizza... You're ruining our daughter."

Andrew smirks, watching from across the table. Valerie giggles happily, licking her fingers.

Chapter Text

"I'm fine."

Neil says after being shot, turning away from his angry mother.

"I'm fine."

Neil says, gasping for breath as an opposing player, seemingly blind, slams into him, knocking the air out of his lungs.

"I'm fine."

Neil says as paramedics reach out with latex gloves and try to check him after the crash.

"I'm fine" is always his first reaction, even when it's far from the truth.

Years have taught him to hide his weaknesses. To stop was to give up. And to give up was to die. Even now, after years of living with Andrew and his children, when he's been allowed to be vulnerable, the habit of being "fine" is too ingrained to ever go away.

This morning, Neil wakes up before his husband or anyone else in the house, which isn't surprising. But his body aches and his head hurts. Everything inside him screams that he is ill, but Neil is not used to paying attention to such trifles. He slowly gets out of bed, careful enough not to wake Andrew.

The floor almost slips out from under him when Neil takes the first step. For a moment he thinks he will fall, but, grabbing the edge of the nightstand, he unsteadily straightens up. In the bathroom, Neil looks at himself in the mirror for a long time. Pale face, dark circles under the eyes, disheveled hair. If Neil does not want trouble, then all this urgently needs to be tidied up. Neil really tries: he brushes his teeth and washes his face with cold water, rubbing his face until it is red, but the headache does not go away, as does his terrible appearance. His hands are shaking when Neil finds the medicine cabinet.

"Just a precaution."

He tells himself, washing down the first pill he comes across with a sip of cool water.

All he needs is to not give himself away for a couple more hours. Andrew will wake up in thirty minutes, and by then Neil should look fine.
He quietly goes down to the kitchen to make breakfast. But fatigue hampers his movements, and his breathing becomes heavy. Neil tries not to pay attention to it, but the thought of food makes him feel sick. So he just sits down at the kitchen table, waiting out another severe headache.

When Andrew appears in the kitchen doorway, sleepy and slightly disheveled, Neil is almost lying on the table. He immediately notices the moment when Andrew realizes something is wrong.

"You got up earlier than usual."

Andrew squints, looking at him.

"I wanted to make some coffee."

Neil shrugs, turning away, in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his face from her husband. Andrew is silent, but his gaze burns into Neil's back.

Everything is going according to plan until Neil sneezes. Loudly, sharply, so that he even slightly hits his forehead on the table. Andrew immediately tenses up.

"Are you okay?"

Neil lifts his head, acting as if nothing had just happened.

"Of course."

Andrew frowns and steps closer, looking at his husband point-blank.

"You're pale."

He says dryly, reaching out to check Neil's forehead. Neil jerks slightly to the side, grabbing the table to keep his balance.

"I told you, I'm fine."

Neil says confidently, but his voice sounds hoarse and weaker than he'd like.

"Shut up."

Andrew answers calmly, still placing his hand on his forehead. His gaze becomes even darker.

"You're hot."

"Andrew..."

Neil tries to smirk, but Andrew doesn't join in.

Neil sighs and removes his husband's hand from his forehead.

"I'm just tired."

"You're sick."

Andrew states, already pulling the first aid kit out of the kitchen drawer. Andrew frowns, but Neil can clearly see genuine concern behind his outward irritation.

Andrew dumps the contents of the first aid kit on the table, looking for what he needs. Bottles of syrups, pills, bandages - everything flies in all directions.

"Andrew?"

Andrew doesn't answer, rummaging through the first aid kit intently.

"What are you looking for?"

"A thermometer first, then we'll see. You look disgusting."

He throws out, not even raising his head.

"Thanks, honey."

Neil replies sarcastically, trying to smile.

"Andrew..."

Andrew raises his hand, abruptly cutting him off.

"If you don't want to admit that you're sick."

He says.

"Just shut your mouth."

Neil purses his lips in surprise, but after a few seconds he finally breaks down.

"I…"

"Neil."

Andrew looks at him as if he’s ready to strangle him on the spot.

"I said shut your mouth."

Andrew’s tone is so categorical that Neil would have complied even if he hadn’t felt so exhausted. Finally, Andrew pulls out the thermometer and, holding it in his hands, walks around the table, stopping right in front of Neil.

"Open your mouth."

"But you just said…"

Andrew's glare makes him shut up mid-sentence. Without further ado, Neil opens his mouth, and Andrew shoves the thermometer in without much tenderness.

"Good boy."

Andrew adds sarcastically, turning away.

While the thermometer is doing its job, Andrew goes to the kitchen cabinet. His movements are still a little irritated. Neil can barely sit up straight, feeling the weight of fatigue pull his shoulders down, as well as his eyelids.

Andrew comes back to him with a steaming cup in his hands, throwing in a huge spoonful of honey and squeezing out half a lemon, no less. Neil watches this process with suspicion, his nose wrinkles at the mere sight of these preparations. But mentally, for the tenth time, he thanks every God he knows that Andrew does not force him to eat at least.

"Drink."

Andrew orders curtly, taking the thermometer from Neil and quickly checking the numbers. Luckily, the pill Neil took this morning started working.

"I’m not sick."

Neil starts stubbornly, but stops when Andrew places a cup in front of him and points a warning finger at him.

"I swear, one more word and I’ll…"

Neil is saved from Andrew’s threat by the phone suddenly ringing.

"I’ll get it!"

Chris shouts happily from the other end of the house, and immediately the loud clatter of his fast footsteps is heard.

A moment later, he runs into the kitchen with the phone in his hand, breathing as if he’s just run a marathon.

"Here, Dad!"

He shouts, handing the phone to Andrew.

"Thanks, Chris."

Andrew answers curtly, taking the phone from his son’s hands. He glances at Neil, who is frowning slightly, slowly sipping his sweet and sour tea, obviously not thrilled with the taste.

"I need to answer this."

Andrew speaks, looking down at Chris and adding.

"I have an important task for you."

Chris straightens up, proudly throwing his shoulders back as if he were about to receive a medal for bravery.

"What one?"

His eyes glitter with anticipation.

"Look after your father. Make sure he finishes his tea, but don’t go near him."

Andrew instructs sternly, ignoring Neil’s protesting sigh.

"Andrew, come on!"

Neil says indignantly, but Andrew doesn’t even deign to look at him.

"Okay!"

Chris answers seriously, showing with all his appearance that he understands the importance of the assignment.
Andrew gently ruffles his son’s hair and leaves the kitchen, putting the phone to his ear.

"Minyard, speaking..."

As soon as Andrew disappears through the door, Chris takes his position in the doorway. He stands motionless, arms crossed over his chest, watching Neil closely.

"Chris..."

Neil begins, pushing the cup away.

"Papa."

Chris interrupts him seriously, not even moving from the spot.

Neil rolls his eyes. He has no intention of undermining Andrew's authority or forcing his son to break his promise. So with a heavy sigh, he picks up the cup again, taking another sip.

The tea is terrible - too sweet and sour at the same time, but Neil obeys because he knows that Chris will not leave until he has fulfilled the mission entrusted to him by his father.

"See, I'm drinking."

Neil says with a slight smile.

"Okay."

Chris answers with satisfaction.
Neil sighs deeply and brings the cup to his mouth again. At that moment, he remembers how a few days ago he himself took care of Chris, changing his compresses and persuading him to drink syrup. Now the roles are reversed. He winces again at the taste, but takes solace in the fact that at least everyone else is feeling better.

Andrew returns to the kitchen a few minutes later, still looking tense.

"I was called into work."

Andrew speaks, his brow furrowed. His voice is firm, but his eyes scan Neil, as if still trying to catch any sign of a serious illness about to begin.

Neil smiles slightly, trying to look relaxed.

"Go", he says softly. "I’ll be fine."

Andrew’s frown deepens.

"No training while you’re sick."

He warns sharply, as if he expects an argument or objection.

"I didn’t..."

Neil begins, but is cut off.

"One word about that damn Exy and I’ll kill you."

Andrew warns coldly.

"Oh, Dad’s mad."

Chris whistles, peering into the kitchen from behind Andrew. He can't help but comment, but instantly regrets it when Andrew turns around and fixes him with a stern look.

"Chris..."

Andrew says with that intonation that doesn't require a continuation. Chris immediately turns away, pretending he didn't say anything at all.

Andrew still hesitates, his lips pursed. He glances at Neil, who is sitting at the table with a nearly empty cup of tea.

"Andrew, go to work."

Neil says calmly, trying not to betray the fatigue in his voice.

"Besides, I already drank your awful super-healthy tea."

Andrew still doesn't look satisfied. Tyler runs down from the second floor, buttoning up his sweater as he goes. Andrew frowns, watching Ty tie his shoelaces, and calls loudly.

"Ty? Where are you going?"

Tyler's distant voice can be heard from the hallway.

"What?"

"You're not home tonight?"

"No, I'm going out with my friends. But I'll be back tonight."

Tyler says, waving goodbye and running out the door.

Andrew turns back to Neil. Then his gaze falls on Chris, who is still hanging around nearby.

"Go get ready. And hurry up with your brother. I’ll take you to Aaron’s, then pick you up with Vi."

Chris perks up and immediately runs out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing down the stairs.

Andrew looks at Neil one last time, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You stay home and rest."

He says with exaggerated severity.

"Andrew, I’m a grown man, too."

Neil snorts, rolling his eyes.

Andrew raises an eyebrow and looks at him as if this argument doesn’t even deserve a response.

"Oh, really?"

Neil sighs, realizing that he’s not going to win this argument now.

"Go to work already", he says tiredly, waving his hand.

Andrew finally leaves, taking the rest of the kids with him and leaving Neil alone in the quiet house. Neil sits at the table for a few more minutes before standing up. He’s actually glad he stayed home. Even though he claims he feels fine, the truth is quite different. His head is pounding, his nose is stuffy, and all Neil wants to do is find a tissue to blow his nose and get some sleep for at least a couple of hours.

Neil is about to do just that when his own phone rings. He assumes it’s Andrew, playing it safe as always and calling to check on him. But when he looks at the display, Neil’s eyebrows rise in surprise: Kevin’s name is flashing on the screen.

"Kevin?", he asks, answering the call.

"Neil! What are you doing?"

Kevin’s voice is energetic as always.

"Want to get some extra practice in right now?"

Neil thinks for a moment.

"I...", he pauses, thinking about his answer.

Neil doesn't feel well, but is that a reason to refuse? He's not so sick that he can't handle a little friendly play. Deciding that fresh air and a little activity might even do him some good, Neil agrees.

That was a mistake.

On the field, everything goes wrong from the very beginning. Neil feels like his body is immersed in the viscous caramel syrup that Andrew generously pours into his coffee: his legs don't obey him and every muscle in his body feels unnaturally heavy. Just a few minutes into the training, Neil feels his legs trembling and sweat appears on his forehead. It's as if his body is protesting his persistence.

"Come on, Neil! Move!"

Kevin urges him on, but his friend's voice seems somehow distant and muffled to Neil.

Neil stops, taking a deep breath. He doesn't listen to Kevin, who's still shouting in the distance. Instead, he feels his vision darkening, his lungs on fire. A painful cough erupts from his throat.

"Neil…"

Kevin's voice is closer, almost right next to his ear. Neil winces, but doesn't look up. Another cough racks him, every breath hurting.

"Neil? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm fine."

Neil clenches his teeth, trying to stay conscious.

"You look like you're about to pass out."

There's real panic in his voice now.

"Haven't I told you a million times to stop being a hero and realize that you can't be fine all the time? Why the hell didn't you tell me you were sick?"

Every word Kevin says feels like a nail, driving hard into Neil's temples. He feels his head spinning even more.

"I'm fine."

"You set me up. And when Andrew finds out it, and he will, my death will be quick, but I'm sure it will be incredibly painful."

Neil can barely hear him. His vision is blurry. He feels a hand on his forehead. Kevin.

"You're burning up! Shit. We have to go. Come on, get up."

Kevin says, and there's no mockery in his voice anymore, just seriousness and fear.

Neil tries to get up on his own, but his body seems to refuse to obey. He mumbles something unintelligible, which only adds to Kevin's panic.

"Damn. We have to visit another Minyard."

Kevin mumbles, grabbing his arm and helping him up.

"And if Andrew kills me, it will be your fault."

Neil closes his eyes. All he wants now is for the darkness before his eyes to stop growing.

...

Neil slowly comes to his senses. His eyes open with difficulty, as if his eyelids have become incredibly heavy. His whole body aches, the air is filled with the sharp smell of disinfectants mixed with something metallic, and everything around him is white - the ceiling, the walls, the sheets. Neil knows where he is. The hospital.

Thoughts come in ragged fragments, but one of them is clear: if he is here, then something has gone completely wrong.

"That was stupid even for you."

A familiar, sharp voice is heard. Neil turns his head towards the sound, and Andrew appears before his eyes. He is sitting on a chair by the bed, his face impassive, but his gaze is heavy.

"Take me home."

Neil exhales, his voice hoarse and weak. Andrew raises an eyebrow in surprise.

"You can barely keep your eyes open", he counters calmly. "Not yet."

"I want to go home."

Neil insists, trying to get up, but immediately realizes what a bad idea that is - weakness takes over his body, and he falls back onto the pillows. At that moment, the door opens, and Aaron enters the room. In a white coat, slightly frowning, holding a folder in his hands.

"He needs to stay in the hospital?"

Andrew turns to his twin, ignoring another of Neil's stubborn statements.

"No hospitals."

Neil speaks up immediately. Aaron gives him a short, unimpressed look.

"No, he'll be fine", he tells Andrew. "But he needs rest. No walking, no running, and definitely no Exy."

"How long?"

Neil interrupts, his voice too impatient. A new voice comes from the corner.

"If you go out on the court without recovering and get injured, I will put you on the bench very quickly."

Kevin warns him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

Neil blinks, startled, noticing him for the first time. He hadn't even heard him come in.

"You're still here?"

Neil looks surprised, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah," Kevin says shortly. "I wanted to make sure you weren't going to do anything even dumber."

Aaron starts explaining to Andrew how to give Neil his medications, and Neil passes out without listening. The voices get quieter, and he feels his head getting heavier. His eyelids droop again, and Neil seems to be immersed in a fog. His consciousness floats to the surface, then falls back into the dark abyss.

Neil wakes up for the first time when he's being transferred to the car. Andrew carefully lifts him up, buckles him in with his seat belt, and Neil feels the cold metal buckle on his skin. He closes his eyes again.

The next time he opens them, it's at home. Andrew gently lays him down on the couch in the living room, adjusting the pillow under his head. Half asleep, Neil hears someone slam the door - it must be the kids.

"Hi, Papa, I'm home."

Valerie's soft whisper is heard in his ear. Her voice is warm, soft, like the touch of a gentle breeze.

"Come on, little princess."

Tyler calls. He leads the girl away.

"Let Daddy rest."

Neil stirs, but he can't find the strength to open his eyes.

He wakes up again to a soft, almost weightless noise. It's the voices in the kitchen - the kids, along with Andrew. They're whispering, but not soft enough that Neil can't make out the words.

"He's exhausted."

Tyler is speaking. He sounds worried, but he's trying to hide it.

"But that's Papa."

Chris objects. There's so much confidence in his words.

"Papa's very strong", Jim adds.

Andrew says something, but Neil can't make it out. Everything blurs together into one continuous hum.

Neil winces, noticing a glass of water and a plate of food on the table in front of him. He wants to be happy about the care, but instead he feels his stomach twist at the thought of food.

"Hey."

He wheezes, not recognizing his own voice. Sir lifts her head from the floor, and her ears instantly perk up. She comes closer and buries her wet nose in his palm.

Neil slowly strokes her soft fur, feeling how tiredness envelops him again in a warm wave. Sir's calm breathing, her quiet presence - all this is soothing. A few minutes later, Neil falls asleep again. He will probably feel better by morning.

...

Andrew sits in the chair next to the couch and turns the pages of the book. He is completely immersed in the text, but this does not prevent him from catching every movement of Neil on the couch.

"Andrew."

Neil drawls, his hoarse voice breaking the silence.

"What?"

Andrew answers shortly, not even looking up from the book.

"I’m bored."

Neil continues, turning over on his side with difficulty.

"Sleep", Andrew answers dryly.

"I’m tired."

Neil adds, drawing out a plaintive tone.

"Even more so."

"I want to get off this stupid couch and at least take a shower."

Neil complains, frowning and pulling the blanket over his shoulders. Andrew slowly looks up at him.

"Aaron told you to rest", he snaps.

"Aaron has hated me since college and he is just making fun of me", Neil insists.

Andrew just purses his lips and goes back to his book, but then a quiet voice interrupts their conversation.

"Am I disturbing you?"

Ty looks into the living room. Andrew puts the book down and motions for his son to come closer.

"Dad!"

Jim shouts from the second floor.

"Can you help?"

"I'm coming."

As soon as Andrew disappears down the stairs, Tyler turns to Neil, who is sleepily watching what is happening from under the blanket.

"What are you planning?"

Neil asks, raising an eyebrow.

Tyler doesn't answer, just comes closer and carefully climbs onto the couch next to him. Tyler is taller than Neil and has to curl up like a kitten to get comfortable. He lays his head on Neil's warm chest and sighs deeply.

"Papa?"

He asks quietly, almost whispering.

"Mmm?"

"You’ll feel better soon, right?"

"Sure."

Neil answers, putting his hand on his son’s head and starting to stroke his hair.

"It’s just a cold, nothing serious."

Tyler falls silent for a moment, but then speaks up again.

"When I leave for college…"

"Shh..."

Neil interrupts, continuing to stroke his son.

"Don't think about that now. You still have six months."

"I'm scared", Tyler admits quietly.

Neil slows his hand down, then answers softly.

"I know. But we'll still be there for you. Whatever you choose. Always."

Tyler nods without looking up, and Neil continues to stroke his hair until they both fall asleep.

When Neil wakes up again, Tyler is gone. Andrew is there instead.

"Ty's gone to extra classes."

He says, placing a glass of water on the table in front of Neil. Neil tries to nod, but his head feels heavy, like it's filled with lead.

"I still feel terrible."

He wheezes, burying his face in the pillow. Andrew just snorts.

"That's because you still don't know how to take care of yourself."

Neil just stays silent, trying his best to hold back a laugh that immediately turns into a cough.

"Can I finally take a shower?"

Neil wheezes, leaning back on the pillows. His voice sounds plaintive, and his face clearly expresses fatigue.

"And are you going to eat after this?"

Andrew immediately clarifies, squinting. Neil winces, as if this question causes him physical pain.

"No appetite."

Neil breathes out, but there is a guilty note in his voice.

Andrew tilts his head to the side, clearly thinking about how to get his way. After a couple of seconds, he smirks, clearly finding a suitable argument.

"The twins decided to make you soup. Themselves."

Neil raises an eyebrow, as if he doesn’t believe what he heard.

"They’re... cooking? For me?"

He feels his eyes begin to moisten. Whether it was the headache or the warmth that filled him with the thought that his children were taking care of him, Andrew nods.

"They found some recipe on the Internet. Do you still want to shower?"

Neil chuckles, but agrees, because he is a good father, and therefore, of course, he will eat the soup made by his children even if it means sending him back to the hospital. Andrew helps him up. His hands firmly support Neil as he slowly walks to the stairs. They go up to the second floor, and Andrew is in no hurry to leave, ready to accompany him even to the bathroom.

However, a loud scream suddenly comes from below.

"Dad! It’s burning! It’s burning! Should soup burn?!"

"Careful! Put it out! Dad!"

Andrew exhales, clearly holding back his irritation, and carefully looks at Neil, making sure that he is standing confidently enough.

"I’ll be back soon. Don’t kill yourself."

"I’ll try."

Andrew turns and walks downstairs at a fast pace, leaving Neil alone. Everything inside him seems to slow down. Neil slowly takes off his sweat-soaked T-shirt and pants, throwing them into the laundry basket. Each gesture echoes weakness, but the hot shower beckons him with the promise of relief.

Finally, he slowly steps into the shower stall and turns on the water. The hot stream immediately envelops his tired body, washing away sweat and tension. Steam instantly fills the room, enveloping it in warmth. Neil rests his palms on the walls of the shower stall and simply stands under the water, feeling the hot drops flow down his skin.

He closes his eyes. The water seems to be the only thing that brings him comfort now. It takes away the remnants of the feverish heat and tension that has been accumulating in his body for the past few days.
From below, the muffled screams of the twins can still be heard, but Neil allows himself not to think about what is happening. At least for a few minutes.

But as he steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his hips, the floor beneath his feet begins to move, smoothly and then abruptly.

"Oh no..."

Neil breathes out, feeling the world around him lose its clarity.

Everything goes dark before his eyes, and Neil falls to the floor with a crash, trying at the last moment to grab onto the nearest shelves to soften the blow.

"Shit."

A familiar, cold but concerned voice sounds above him. Andrew is already here. Of course he heard the noise, or maybe he just knew that Neil wouldn’t last long without his supervision.

"You can’t be left alone even for a second."

Andrew grumbles, but his voice sounds softer than usual.

Neil curls up into a ball on the cold tiles. His hands are wrapped around his stomach, his head is spinning, and sweat is already trickling down his forehead again.

"How’s my soup?"

"We saved him."

Andrew mumbles before taking two large steps and kneeling next to Neil.

"Can you get up? You need to get into bed."

"I can't."

Neil croaks, letting out a quiet, painful sleep. At that moment, a frightened voice is heard in the hallway.

"Papa?"

Neil closes his eyes, hoping Valerie can't see him now. There's fear in her voice. Andrew turns to her instantly.

"It's okay, honey. Papa's just not feeling well. Why don't you go downstairs and feed the cats?"

"I can do it myself?"

The girl's eyes light up with surprise and delight.

"Sure. Just ask your brothers to help you get the food."

Valerie nods enthusiastically and runs downstairs. Andrew turns his attention back to Neil, who's still lying on the floor, barely breathing.

"Come on, Neil. Tell me what's going on."

He says softly but demandingly.

"It hurts..."

Neil whispers.

"Is it your stomach?"

Andrew asks, and Neil just nods weakly.

"Do you think you're going to throw up?"

This time Neil shakes his head desperately, gritting his teeth and breathing quickly and shallowly to keep the nausea at bay.

Andrew has known him for over 15 years, and this isn't the first time they've been in this situation. Only this time, there are three kids waiting for them downstairs, and two of them set the pot on fire 15 years ago.

"Come on, do it, and we'll get this over with right now."

It doesn't take long, and at some point, Neil doubles over. He's shaking, and a moment later, he's vomiting the meager breakfast Andrew had forced him to eat. His body is shaking, his shoulders are shaking, and Neil himself is twitching, trying to suppress a second attack. Andrew gently strokes his back.

After Neil finishes, Andrew helps him up, washes him, and even pulls a clean T-shirt and pants on him before carefully leading him into their bedroom.

"Lie down."

Andrew orders, covering him with a blanket.

"Or I’ll call Aaron."

Neil, exhausted and weak, only nods tiredly. Valerie’s laughter and the noise of Chris and Jim’s voices can be heard from below.

Everything around him fades. Neil falls into darkness, then returns back. The whole world around him seems to be floating and unstable. He alternates between hot and cold. Voices are heard somewhere on the edge of consciousness.

"Yes, Aaron, he has a fever…"

Andrew’s voice sounds distant, but his tone is as calm as always.

"Papa, we made some soup…"

Jim’s gentle, slightly tense voice breaks through his sleep.

"He’ll be fine."

It's Chris, worried and demanding at the same time.

"Papa?"

Valerie's quiet, almost whispering voice, very close.

He is touched by small, careful childish hands. Valerie touches his face, as if checking if he is warm. Behind her, he feels Tyler's strong, but so soft hands, changing the damp cloth on his forehead.

"Neil?"

That's Andrew's voice.

"I'm fine."

He answers weakly, although it sounds unconvincing even to himself.

"You don't have to worry about me so much."

Neil whispers, without opening his eyes.

"It's just a cold. You should have gone to work."

"You are my job."

Andrew says calmly, and that's the end of the conversation.

After some time, he finally comes to his senses completely. Jim and Chris appear in the doorway. Jim is holding a cup of soup, and Chris is holding a mug of tea.

"We made this ourselves, Papa."

Jim says proudly, coming closer.

"And I made a card for you!"

Valerie hands him a piece of paper with brightly colored scribbled writing on it. It shows a smiling man holding an armful of balloons. Underneath the drawing, in large letters, is written: "GET WELL SOON, PAPA!"

Neil takes the card, a faint smile touching his lips.

"This is wonderful, honey", he whispers. "We’ll put it here."

Neil carefully places the card on the nightstand next to his bed, so he can see it when he wakes up. Jim, still watching him anxiously, moves the cup of soup closer.

"You need to eat", he says quietly.

The soup is a little too salty, and the tea is too sweet with too much honey, but Neil, feeling the children’s gazes on him, forces himself to eat a few spoonfuls.

"Are you okay, Papa?"

Chris asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Much better."

Neil answers, although he still feels sick.

"Do you want anything else?"

Jim touches his hand, gently intertwining their fingers. Neil can feel how much his son is worried.

"It’s okay, don’t worry about me."

He assures, squeezing Jim’s fingers weakly. Jim sighs heavily, but doesn’t move.

"Lie down next to me", Neil finally whispers.

Jim turns to Andrew, who nods, watching them. That’s all Jim needed. He carefully settles down next to Neil, trying not to touch his hot body too much.

Chris and Valerie don’t wait for permission. They immediately climb onto the bed and hug him as tightly as they can. Neil pauses for a second, realizing how much his boys have grown. Not long ago they were so small, and now they take up half the bed.

"Did our soup help you?"

Chris asks, looking up.

"Very", Neil whispers. "You are so good."

...

Neil is finally starting to feel better. He slowly but surely goes down the stairs, leaning on the railing. It’s still hard, but compared to the previous days, it’s a huge improvement. Lively conversation, interrupted by occasional laughter, is heard from below, and Neil feels warm from the fact that he can again be part of this family chaos.

He enters the kitchen, where Valerie is sitting at the table, laying out crayons, and Andrew is cooking something on the stove. Valerie immediately notices Neil and jumps up from her chair.

"Papa!"

She shouts happily and runs up, hugging him around the waist.

"You’re finally up!"

"Hi."

Neil smiles, gently stroking her head. Valerie suddenly pulls away and, frowning, declares.

"You know, Dad threatened to kill me."

Neil blinks, confused.

"I'm sorry what?"

Andrew turns away from the stove, grinning.

"It never happened", he says calmly.

But Valerie shakes her head firmly.

"It did! You said you'd eat me! And if you do, I'll die!"

Neil lets out a long groan, covering his face with his hand.

"Oh, my God, Vi", he groaned. "It was just a joke."

"I promise I'll make sure your dad doesn't eat you."

Neil says, winking at Andrew.

"Although, you know, I'm so hungry right now that little red-headed girls do taste so good to me..."

"Ahhh!"

Valerie squeals and runs out of the kitchen, laughing loudly, her pigtails flying in the air. Neil can't help but laugh. His laughter is quiet but infectious. Even Andrew smiles slightly as he returns to the stove.

"Feeling better?"

Andrew asks softly, handing Neil a glass of water. Neil nods, feeling the pleasant warmth spreading through his body again.

"Better."

They sit down next to each other at the table, enjoying the short respite.

Chapter Text

When you have more than one child, every day feels like balancing on a fine line. You can't pick favorites, even if sometimes one of them is desperately getting on your nerves while the other one sits quietly and reads a book. You can't scold one more than the other, or praise only one. Love is a balance. But no matter how hard you try, you still love each of them a little differently. And that's okay.

Andrew and Neil know this. They love all their children equally, but this love is different for each of them.

They had a long and hard road with Tyler. From a fifteen-year-old teenager angry at the whole world, not letting anyone near him and hitting the hands that were outstretched for help, to their adult and incredible son. To a confident and caring young man. Tyler was their firstborn in an emotional sense. They were the ones who taught him patience, respect for others' boundaries and the importance of not only talking but also listening. Despite being 18, he was their child. Their boy, who also needed love and care. He was still their child, even if he was half a head taller than Neil and could easily start a conversation about politics or scientific discoveries.

Valerie... Little Valerie was with them the least. But every day with her was filled with joy. Neil and Andrew watched her grow and trade soft blocks for an Exy hockey stick, how she ran with delight in racing with her brothers. Valerie grew up brave, stubborn and independent.

Chris... Well, Chris is an incredible child. A hurricane with big bright eyes, a loud laugh and an amazing ability to turn everything around him into chaos. He was the child who could break two chairs in one day, lose three socks and drag home a rat he found somewhere. His long tongue and sharp mind did not let them get bored for a second.

And Jim... They could talk about Jim for hours. About how he was in the beginning: quiet, silent and afraid to look up at adults, expecting a blow. And about how he changed. He became strong, brave, someone who was ready to defend his views, who listened, supported and helped. He was their pride, their reminder that trust can overcome fear.

Andrew and Neil really tried not to single out any of the children. They knew that each of them deserved equal attention and care. But when one of your children grows up to be a magnet for unpleasantness, you invariably pay more attention to him. Apparently because of this, they decided that Jim was the more sensible of the pair: "the normal twin", as they used to say about Aaron. They forgot that there was no place for normality in their family.

It is an ordinary morning in their house - a little hectic, with the usual chaos, but cozy. Tyler lies with his head resting on his crossed arms right on the table. He is fighting for the last minutes of sleep. His sweatshirt has ridden up a bit, revealing his lower back, and the light hood barely covers his face.

Valerie, on the other hand, is cheerful and beaming with anticipation. She sits on the edge of her chair, swinging her feet in fuzzy slippers. Today she can come to kindergarten in her pajamas, and she can't wait to show everyone her new mini-hawks uniform. On the back, in large letters and numbers, is written: "JOSTEN-MINIARD 7". It was a gift from Neil, which immediately became her favorite outfit. Kevin, seeing a photo of Valerie in the uniform, bombarded the family chat with enthusiastic emojis.

Andrew sits at the table, leaning his elbow on the edge, barely holding back a yawn. His fingers lazily wrap around his mug of coffee, and his gaze is slightly unfocused. The sleepy silence is broken by the clatter of plates. Neil is serving hot eggs, steam rising from the plates, and behind him there is a quiet clinking of knives and forks.

Jim is sitting with his nose in his plate. He occasionally picks at the eggs with his fork, but he clearly has no intention of eating anything. His shoulders are slumped, his eyes wandering somewhere to the side.

"Is everything okay?"

Andrew leans forward a little, watching the boy. His voice is soft, but his eyes are wary.

"It's okay," Jim mutters, not raising his head.

Neil, passing by, gently touches his hair, as if casually stroking it.

"Jim, you know you can tell us anything. We're always here to help, right?"

Jim sighs, but again says nothing. Chris, sitting opposite, has already stuffed his mouth full of food. He eats quickly and loudly, not bothering with any manners.

"It's all about school...", he begins, trying to speak despite his mouth being full.

Andrew immediately winces and raises his hand to stop him.

"Chew first."

Neil, without turning from the table, places Valerie's glass of orange juice in front of her and gently pats Tyler on the shoulder.

"Ty, wake up. You won't have time to eat breakfast."

"Jim," Andrew says, a little more sternly, his brows furrowed. "Are you in trouble at school?"

Jim doesn't answer, but his sullen expression makes it clear that he is.

"You bet."

Chris adds mockingly, finishing the last bite of his scrambled egg and washing it down with juice.

"Shut up," Jim hisses, kicking his brother under the table.

Chris, if he weren't Chris, immediately kicks him back.

"Okay, that's enough!"

Neil says sharply, interrupting the chaos that was starting.

"No more kicking or pushing at the table!"

"Calm down, both of you," Andrew adds.

Both boys fall silent guiltily, and Neil sits down at the table, looking at Jim carefully.

"So what happened?"

Andrew repeats. Jim sighs heavily.
Valerie stops swinging her legs, looking at her brother, her small face reflecting curiosity and concern. Even Tyler, without raising his head, opens his eyes.

"It's... nothing."

Jim finally says, picking at his eggs with his fork. His voice is quiet and somehow resigned.

"If it's 'nothing,' why are you so upset?", Neil asks.

Chris snorts, but under Andrew's stern gaze, he closes his mouth and leans back in his chair.

"Jim, what's going on?"

Andrew asks, looking at his son a little more closely.

Jim doesn't answer right away. He sighs, as if gathering courage, then gets up from the table and, hanging his head, walks out of the kitchen. A minute later, he returns with a crumpled paper in his hands. The edges are wrinkled, as if he tried to crumple it up but then changed his mind.

"Here," he says quietly, handing the paper to Neil, avoiding eye contact.

Neil takes the paper, but Andrew immediately holds out his hand, silently saying, "Glasses."

"You're kidding me..."

Neil snorts, but grins and hands the paper to Andrew.

"What is it?"

Neil asks, waiting patiently.

Andrew is silent for a few more seconds, clearly considering how best to phrase it.

"We're being called to school," he says finally, folding the paper in half.

"Excuse me?"

Neil turns to Jim, the disbelief in his voice is audible even without having to look at his face.

"We're being called to school because of... Jim?"

His question sounds like he doesn't believe such a thing is even possible. Jim, hearing this, pulls his head into his shoulders, his posture hunching even more.

A car horn sounds and Tyler, who had been dozing at the table, immediately lifts his head. He sleepily rubs his eyes, then frowns, looking at his parents and younger brother.

"You're so loud."

He grumbles, yawning hoarsely. Tyler, with difficulty, gets up from the table. He squeezes Jim's shoulder in support and grabs a piece of toast from the plate.

"Okay, I have to go, Tessa's driving me," he says suddenly.

"You haven't even had breakfast!"

Neil is indignant, watching him go.

"I'll eat something later," Tyler says as he quickly leaves the room.

Neil watches him go, sighing, then turns his gaze to Jim.

"Jim?", he calls quietly.

Jim closes his eyes, as if preparing himself for a scolding. He looks like he’s about to cry, but he holds it in.
Andrew sees this and raises his hand in a placating gesture.

"Okay, that’s it."

He says calmly, putting the letter from school in his pocket. His voice is firm, but not judgmental. He knows Jim feels guilty and doesn’t want to make things worse.

"We’ll come to school this afternoon and sort this out."

Andrew adds, getting up from the table. He leans over to meet Jim’s eyes and squeezes his shoulder lightly.

"Now, sit down and eat your breakfast. Everything will be fine."

Neil nods, pushing a plate of warm eggs toward Jim.

"Eat. And don’t think about anything."

Jim reluctantly sits back down at the table. He picks up his fork, but he watches his parents with a furtive glance. Their calm calms him down a little.

Breakfast is spent in silence. Everyone is busy with their own thoughts, silently picking at their food or looking out the window. Time is running out, and now everyone is starting to get ready to go their separate ways. Andrew drives Valerie to kindergarten, and Neil takes the boys to school. Chris is the first to jump out of the car, waves his hand and runs to his friends, full of enthusiasm. Jim gets out quietly, without raising his head and avoiding his father's eyes.

"Jim."

Neil says, softly but firmly, stopping him with a look. The boy slows down and seems to tense up inside. Neil gets out of the car and takes a step forward, getting a little closer, his voice remains calm but filled with concern.

"Your dad and I love you, no matter what. Okay?"

Jim relaxes slightly, his shoulders sagging, as if a heavy weight has been lifted off his chest.

"Really?"

He peers into Neil's face, as if trying to read something in his expression.

"Even if...even if I did something bad?"

Neil gently lifts his chin, makes him look straight into his eyes.

"Look at me."

He says, and Jim looks up, his pale eyes full of doubt. Neil gently pushes his son's blond bangs out of his eyes, his hand lingering briefly on the boy's cheek.

"You're my son. Our son."

Neil continues, his voice a little quieter, but so sure.

"If you kill someone, I'll help you hide the body."

He pauses, giving the word weight, then lowers his voice to a whisper.

"But you didn't kill anyone, did you?"

Jim lets out a sharp chuckle, his lips unable to hold back a smile, and finally he relaxes completely, laughing. His shoulders straighten and the tension disappears. Neil, in response to this change, flicks him on the nose with a smile.

"Good", Neil says. "Go to class. I'll see you at lunch."

The rest of the day is spent in thought for Neil and Andrew. The only thought that keeps spinning in their heads is what happened to Jim that they were called to school.

...

The school building greets them with the usual noise: the ringing laughter of children, the hum of voices and the rumble of footsteps along the corridors. Neil walks ahead, looking back at Andrew. He, as always, walks confidently, his formal jacket looks impeccable.

"I didn’t have time to stop by home and change."

Neil whispers, straightening his sports sweatshirt with the team’s emblem on the entire back. Andrew rolls his eyes, adjusting his cuffs.

"Seriously?"

"Jim’s in trouble. I wanted to look presentable and inspire confidence."

"I’ll take care of it."

Andrew answers calmly, his voice as firm as his gaze. Jim meets them at the school gates and, without saying a word, gestures for them to follow him. He leads them to the principal’s office, still silent. Neil tries to lighten the mood by telling something funny about a training session, but Jim doesn't even smile. The tension in the air grows with every step.

"This way."

Jim says quietly, stopping in front of the office door. He stays outside, hunched over even more, as if trying to hide from the world.

Neil and Andrew enter the spacious office. The director, a stern woman with glasses and her hair pulled back into a bun, greets them with a warm look and points to the chairs opposite her desk.

"Good afternoon. Please come in and sit down," she says, her voice sounding friendly enough.

Andrew winces slightly at the word "please," but remains outwardly calm. He takes one of the chairs, his back straight and his expression serious. Neil sits down next to him, interlacing his fingers and squeezing them a little harder than necessary to calm himself.

"Did James tell you why I asked you to come today?", the principal asks, folding his hands on the table.

"No", Andrew answers calmly, not blinking at her.

"He gave us your note", Neil explains, his voice betraying tension.

The principal nods, sighing heavily before beginning.

"I see. First of all, I’d like to say that James is a wonderful boy. He’s a good student and very polite to his classmates. You know, compared to his brother, we never have any problems with his behavior, and…"

"Sorry to interrupt."

Neil speaks suddenly. His face becomes tense, his gaze sharp as a razor. He leans forward slightly, his voice remains firm, but devoid of aggression.

"We don’t compare twins. It’s not pedagogical and doesn’t bring any benefit. On the contrary, it separates and divides them. And, as far as I understand, we are here today for Jim."

The director blushes, nodding sheepishly, her confidence seeming to crumble a little.

"Of course, of course. You’re right. I just wanted you to understand how taken aback we were, and…"

"Can we get to the point?"

Andrew interrupts her calmly but firmly, adjusting the sleeve of his jacket.

"We have a limited time. I have to be at work in half an hour."

Neil looks at him with a slight smirk, realizing that his husband really does have the ability to inspire confidence with just his appearance. The director swallows, nods again, and apparently decides that there’s no time to put it off any longer. Neil is sure that she’s only agreeing because of Andrew’s suit. It inspires confidence and respect.

"Okay. Let’s get to the point", she says, leaning back in her chair. "The thing is..."

The seconds of waiting seem to stretch on forever, and Neil instinctively squeezes his fingers even tighter, feeling the tension wash over him again.

"One of our teachers noticed that some kids were running behind the school to smoke."

She starts to explain, and Neil and Andrew exchange glances. They both straighten up.

"One of those kids was James."

"Are you sure it was him?"

Neil asks, frowning.

"I don't mean Chris, but I think you have a lot of blonde eight-year-olds at your school."

The principal nods.

"We're sure. James didn't deny his involvement, and then he was caught red-handed, smoking a cigarette."

Neil doesn't know what to say to that. He glances quickly at Andrew. How could this happen? Jim is such a good boy.

"He won't tell us why he did it, but maybe he wanted to be cooler. Or..."

She gives them a meaningful look.

"If there's smoking in the house, children often repeat their parents' bad habits."

Andrew clenches his fists.

"Are you saying now that Jim started smoking because of us?"

The principal shakes his head.

"Oh, no, I just…"

"Let’s not make assumptions. We’ll talk to our son and find out why he’s doing this."

Neil interrupts.

"Is there something else?"

He asks shrewdly, noticing that the woman hasn’t finished.

"Yes. Actually, that’s only part of the problem, albeit a huge part. We asked where he got the cigarettes from, and James admitted that he was selling homework and test answers."

"Selling?"

"Yes."

The principal gets up from his seat and opens the door a crack.

"James, would you mind joining us?:

Jim enters the office, his hands behind his back, his eyes downcast in guilt. Neil looks at his son carefully, his eyes showing both concern and confusion. Andrew maintains his usual cool, impenetrable demeanor, but the tension in his jaw and the fingers clenched on the arms of his chair betray a storm of emotion.

"I’m just telling your parents about your little business. Would you mind sharing?"

"I did it."

"You sold assignments? But why?"

"To buy cigarettes. One assignment for $1. That’s a good offer."

The principal nods, confirming the boy’s words.

"He was quite an entrepreneur."

She says, clearly trying to sound neutral, but her voice trembles slightly with tension.

"At first it was just homework, but later he started selling exam answers."

The principal raises her eyebrows at Jim.

"James, tell your parents what else you did."

Jim fidgets, shifts from foot to foot, but says nothing.

"We had a conversation."

The principal continues.

"And James told the school psychologist that he asked adults to buy him cigarettes."

A heavy silence falls in the office. Neil blinks several times, as if trying to comprehend what he has heard. His voice is louder than he intended.

"He is eight! Who buys an eight-year-old cigarettes?"

His indignation hangs in the air. Andrew clenches his hands into fists, but maintains an outward calm.

"Jim", Neil calls, holding out his hand, "Come here."

Jim slowly approaches, and Neil gently places his hand on his shoulder.

"You really asked strangers to buy you cigarettes?"

Jim, looking down, nods silently. Andrew sighs heavily.

"It is very dangerous, Jim. We told you and your brother not to talk to strangers, didn’t we?"

"How?", Neil asks, stunned. "How did you convince them?"

Jim, without looking up, suddenly takes a deep breath and looks Neil straight in the eye.

"I didn’t do anything bad", he begins quietly but confidently. "I was just making up stories."

"Stories?", Neil asks, frowning.

"Yeah, different ones. Sometimes I’d say the cigarettes were for my parents. Sometimes I’d say I needed them for an ecology project. And sometimes I’d say they were for me."

"You realize that by telling these stories you’re not only breaking the rules, but also putting yourself in danger? Strangers aren’t always kind and harmless."

Jim looks down again and nods, guiltily fiddling with the hem of his T-shirt.

"I know."

"Is that all?"

Andrew raises an eyebrow, eyeing his son suspiciously. Jim shrugs.

"Well, I always made up different names so no one would know it was me."

Neil's eyes widen and he can't help but let out a chuckle, more like a nervous exhale.

"Different names, you say? Which ones?"

"Well, like: Alex, Stefan..."

Neil coughs at the irony of the situation, covering his mouth with his hand. Andrew can't hide the slight tremor at the corner of his lips either, although he tries to look serious. He quietly leans towards Neil and whispers.

"Just like you."

The principal frowns, looking at both men suspiciously.

"Excuse me, what?"

"Nothing."

Neil quickly replies, waving his hand away. He clearly has no intention of explaining to the principal what these name jokes mean.

"Can we leave now?"

Neil quickly asks, standing up from his chair and trying to sound as calm as possible. The principal blinks, clearly confused. Apparently she expected Neil and Andrew to start a scene right there in her office.

"Um… Yeah, sure, but…"

"I see", Neil interrupts, nodding. "Punishment. What kind?"

The principal quickly gathers her thoughts.

"Well, James is suspended from school for three days. We want him to realize that…"

"And we’ll definitely have a talk with him at home."

Andrew says, standing up. His voice is confident, leaving little room for argument. He glances at Jim.

"Come on. We have to go."

Neil nods to the principal.

"Thank you for letting us know. We’ll sort it out."

The principal watches them go, a little surprised, but pleased that the problem is no longer on her shoulders.

"Of course. We just want James to be okay. He's a smart boy, but... doing something like that could affect his future."

"We understand that," Neil says shortly, heading for the door.

They leave the school and walk silently to the car. Andrew opens the door, motioning for Jim to get in the back. Jim obediently buckles up, but he can't hide his concern. He steals glances at his parents, who look unusually calm, as if nothing had happened.

The car starts moving, and silence fills the cabin. It's getting almost unbearable, and Jim finally makes up his mind.

"You... you're not going to yell at me?", he asks quietly, as if bracing himself for the worst.

Neil looks over his shoulder, sighs heavily, and answers.

"Does that make sense? Yelling doesn't change anything. We'll talk about it, Jim, but we won't yell."

Jim nods slowly, processing what he's heard. He pauses before speaking again.

"Michael's dad yelled at him. And then... then he beat him with a belt. He can't even sit up straight anymore."

Andrew's hands are clenched so tightly on the steering wheel that his knuckles are white.

"Beat him?"

His voice is cold, almost threatening.

"Well... punished him. To teach him a lesson," Jim tries to explain.

"Teach him a lesson," Andrew repeats slowly, as if tasting the word.

"We won't beat you," Neil adds calmly, glancing at Jim through the rearview mirror.

Jim turns slightly to look at him.

"I know."

The car is silent again, but it seems less tense now. Jim looks out the window, wondering why they are turning off the road.

"An ice cream parlor?"

He asks in surprise as the car stops in front of a small building with a brightly colored sign. Neil unbuckles his seatbelt, turning to face his son.

"Yeah. We'll grab something to eat and then we'll go home."

Jim, a little confused, follows his parents into the ice cream parlor. He doesn't understand what's going on - is this some new, clever psychological trick? The Andrews order ice cream for himself and their son, and a sorbet for Neil. Neil picks a table in the far corner, out of sight, and motions for Jim to sit down.

The boy sits down carefully, feeling the tension inside him. He looks at the ice cream in front of him, as if he can’t believe he can eat it. He doesn’t deserve it. Carefully, slowly, Jim takes the first spoonful, casting wary glances at his parents.

"You’re not mad?"

His voice is quiet, almost inaudible.

"We are."

Andrew answers, not even looking up. He shoves a whole spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

"But not at you. At ourselves."

Neil nods.

"We’re mad because somewhere along the line we missed the moment when you decided that smoking was okay. But, Jim, you have to understand: we still love you. Always."

He smiles, warmly, sincerely.

"Now eat your ice cream. Then we’ll talk at home. We’ll talk seriously."

Jim freezes, clutching the spoon to himself, but doesn’t eat anymore. His eyes are shining, his hands are shaking. He quickly rubs his face with the sleeve of his T-shirt, as if he hopes his parents won’t notice.

"Oh, Jim. Come here."

Neil says calmly, pushing his chair back and holding out his arms to his son. Jim doesn’t move at first, but then, unable to bear it any longer, he takes a step forward. Neil sits him down next to him and hugs him, pressing him to his chest. Jim sobs softly, his body shaking slightly.

"I’m sorry", he says, barely audible.

"Shhhh… It’s okay", Neil whispers, stroking his head.

"I’m… I’m so ashamed. Forgive me."

Andrew walks around the table and sits on the other side, putting his arm around Jim’s shoulders and shielding him from the curious glances of the café’s patrons.

"We forgive you", he says, his voice firm but gentle. "It’s okay. We’re here for you."

The three of them sit there for a while, until Jim calms down. Finally, Andrew breaks the silence.

"You don’t have to do things like that to get noticed, Jim. You’re already important to us. Do you understand that?"

Jim nods silently, still not looking at them.

...

It’s late evening. The dim light from the nightlight casting soft shadows on the walls. Andrew is lying on the bed, propped up by the pillows. His fingers quickly touch the screen, but he still listens to Neil’s nervous murmur.

"Do you think we pay too much attention to Chris?"

Neil asks suddenly. His voice is quiet, as if he’s afraid the words will be true.
Andrew takes a moment to answer, focused on his phone, but Neil continues, as if he doesn’t need an answer.

"I think so. After he was diagnosed with ADHD, we focused everything on helping him learn to cope with it. And Jim… he stayed out of it."

Andrew finally puts the phone away and turns to Neil.

"It's not true."

"Then why?"

Neil frowns, his hands fiddling nervously with the edge of the blanket.

"He's only eight, Andrew. Children shouldn't be smoking at that age."

"Sometimes kids do things like that for fun."

Andrew answers calmly, but there's a hint of weariness in his voice.

"Do you think he sold his homework for fun? Or approached strangers on the street to buy him cigarettes?"

Andrew sighs, rubbing his face with his hands, as if trying to rub away the stress of the day.

"I don't know, Neil. Maybe it's my fault."

"It's not."

Neil immediately counters, his voice sharpening.

"I smoke. A lot. They see it. They know it. So maybe the principal was right: kids copy their parents' bad habits."

Neil pauses for a moment, considering his words. Then he lies down on the bed, closer to Andrew, and says softly.

"Then it's our fault."

Andrew nods slowly, reaching out to turn off the light. The bed creaks slightly as he lies back, staring at the ceiling.

"It doesn’t matter who’s at fault. The important thing is to fix this."

"What are we going to do?"

Neil glances at him, his voice shaking with worry. Andrew looks away for a second, as if collecting his thoughts, before answering.

"I already texted Aaron. You can pick up Valerie and Chris tomorrow, and Jim and I can go to the hospital."

"The hospital?"

Neil raises an eyebrow.

"I want to show him what smoking does to people. The real effects. Aaron said he could help."

Neil is silent for a long moment, processing this. He rests his head on the pillow next to Andrew’s, their shoulders touching.

"Okay", he finally says. "That could work."

Andrew just nods, their conversation over. The bedroom is silent, but this time it's not oppressive, but reassuring.

...

The next day, Aaron meets them in the hospital emergency room.

"Hey," he says, hugging his brother and gently ruffling Jim's head. "Ready?"

"Where are we going?"

Jim looks around suspiciously, clearly unsure of what awaits him.

"A special room with a negatoscope."

Aaron answers, pointing down a long hallway.

"With what?", Jim frowns.

"It's a device we use to look at X-rays. It's simple. Come on in."

He opens the door to a small room, the walls of which are covered with various X-ray images. On one table is a negatoscope, its soft light illuminating several of the images.

"Are these lungs? Seriously?"

Jim asks, looking at the pictures skeptically, but obediently stepping closer.

"Yeah, seriously."

Andrew confirms calmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I asked Aaron to explain to you what could happen if you kept smoking. And you’re going to listen."

Andrew nods to Aaron, who gets to work right away.

"Look at this, Jim."

He points to one of the pictures.

"These are healthy lungs. See? And these are smoker’s lungs. Notice the dark spots."

Jim leans closer, squinting.

"What’s that?"

"That’s soot", Aaron explains. "When you smoke, it settles in your lungs. This man has been smoking for over fifteen years, and in that time he’s accumulated about eight lb of soot."

"Soot?"

Jim pulls back, his face turning pale.

"Like a barbecue?"

"About that", Aaron agrees, not looking away. "About eight hundred grams of tobacco tar passes through a smoker’s lungs every year. That’s why the lungs become dark and lose the ability to breathe normally."

Jim instinctively presses his hand to his chest.

"And... are mine like that?"

"No, not yet", Aaron shakes his head. "But if you keep going, they will be like that."

He points to another X-ray, where a white spot is visible.

"See that?"

"Yes. What is it?"

"It’s a tumor", Aaron says quietly.

"Cancer? ", Jim whispers, his voice barely audible.

"Yes, cancer. Smoking increases the risk of getting it. You have to understand what’s in cigarettes."

Aaron takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, takes one out, and breaks it.

"It’s not just tobacco. There are five thousand other toxic compounds in here: benzene, ammonia, chromium, and more. All of these substances cause different types of cancer. When you breathe them in, the carbon monoxide binds to the hemoglobin in your blood, and your body begins to experience oxygen starvation."

Jim swallows, his face tense.

"I didn’t know", he whispers, his voice barely audible.

"That’s not all."

Aaron continues, throwing the broken cigarette into the trash.

"Smoking can affect your hearing, your vision, your memory, and it increases your risk of stroke. And at your age, it’s especially dangerous because your body is still growing and developing. Do you understand that?"

Jim looks completely stunned. He nods, his hands shaking.

"Yes, I understand."

Andrew steps forward and puts his hand on his son’s shoulder.

"Neil and I can tell you not to smoke. But that won’t stop you if you want to keep doing it."

Jim looks up at him, full of remorse.

"Dad..."

"That's why I want you to make your own decision. We love you and we care about you. Do you understand?"

Jim sighs heavily, then nods slowly.

"I... I just wanted to try. I didn't know it was that bad. I won't do it again."

His voice trembles, and Andrew wraps his arms around his son in relief, pulling him close.

"Okay, that's good," he says softly, patting Jim's head.

Aaron watches the scene with a soft smile. It's clear in his eyes that he, too, is glad he could help.

...

Andrew drives home in a good mood. Jim seems to understand. He promised not to smoke again, and Andrew believes him.

"Dad?"

Jim's voice suddenly comes from the backseat. Andrew glances in the rearview mirror. Jim sits there, strapped in, a thoughtful expression on his face, but there's...anxiety in his voice?

"Yeah?"

"You smoke, too."

And at that moment Andrew realizes he's overlooked one thing. He tenses, feeling the good mood drain away.

"Well… yeah", he says carefully.

"If you’ve been smoking since high school…"

Jim stutters, his voice shaking.

"Then how do your lungs look like?"

Andrew inhales sharply, as if he’s been punched in the chest. He opens his mouth to answer, but the words get stuck. The boy is almost crying. His big eyes, which had recently been filled with remorse and fear, are now filled with something else – genuine concern.

"Dad, if it’s that bad, you… you could get sick, right? Like those people in the pictures?"

Andrew feels his own lungs tighten, as if to confirm his son’s words.

"Jim", he says quietly, trying to sound reassuring, but his voice betrays him by shaking. "Don’t worry. I…"

But he knows he can’t lie. Not now.

Holy shit.

Andrew pushes the door open, stepping into the house with a determined look. Jim follows, still quiet but more confident. Neil peeks out from the kitchen, noticing their arrival. He has a mug of tea in his hands and a slightly worried expression.

"How did it go?", he asks, nodding at Jim.

Andrew doesn’t answer right away. He takes off his coat, throws his keys on the shelf and turns to Neil.

"I’m quitting smoking", he says, as if it’s a death sentence.

Neil blinks, not immediately understanding what he’s talking about. He looks at Jim, who’s pleased but still a little tense, and then looks at Andrew.

"Okay", he drawls slowly, as if considering what he’s heard. "Does this have anything to do with today’s trip?"

Andrew rolls his eyes, nodding wearily.

"Yes, it does. Aaron explained to him how harmful smoking is, and Jim understood everything. But he wanted to know how my lungs looked after all these years."

"And?"

Neil raises an eyebrow slightly, realizing where this is going.

"And now if I don’t quit, I’m going to be the worst dad in the world", Andrew says with an irritated grin.

Neil snorts, but then his gaze turns serious. He sets his mug down, comes closer, and puts his hand on Andrew’s shoulder.

"Okay. We’ll do this together."

"Together?"

Andrew frowns, but sees Neil cross his arms over his chest.

"I smoke too, remember? Or did you decide that you’d quit and I’d keep doing it?"

Andrew looks at Neil for a few seconds, then nods, smiling slightly.

"Okay. Together."

Jim watches them from the sidelines, not saying a word, but a small smile appears on his face.

"Thank you", he says quietly, clenching his fists.

Andrew and Neil turn to look at him, then both come closer.

"This is for all of us, kid", Neil says, ruffling Jim’s hair.

"And for you, too", Andrew adds, hugging him.

The three of them stand in the small entryway, and in that moment, everything feels right. Decisions are made not out of fear or remorse, but out of love.

Chapter Text

Tyler couldn't sleep.

It seemed like such a simple action: just close your eyes, relax and sleep. But sometimes his body and mind simply refused to obey. Lying in the dark, he tried to calm his anxiety, to think of pleasant thoughts, or of nothing at all, but sleep never came.

Tyler tried everything. He opened the window, letting in the cool night air, hoping the freshness would help his body relax. He gave up his phone an hour before bed, after reading that screens interfere with the brain's ability to rest. He even took melatonin for a while, trying to outsmart his own body, but that didn't work either.

The truth was, Tyler didn't have real insomnia. No, not really. One of his fathers, Neil, couldn't eat when he was stressed out, but Tyler couldn't sleep. He just...didn't sleep. That was all.

Tonight, the night of his eighteenth birthday and Tyler lay awake again. He stared at the ceiling, his gaze sliding across the jagged shadows cast by the streetlight outside his window. Just a little bit more.

56...

57...

58...

59...

60...

"Happy birthday."

He whispers to himself, barely audible, as if afraid to disturb the silence of the night.

He’s 18 years old now.

Three years ago, also lying awake in yet another foster home with yet another uncaring parents, Tyler dreamed of only one thing: for his brothers to be okay. Every year, as he counted down the seconds until midnight, Tyler asked only for them: for his brothers to have a family. To be taken care of. To be loved.

Every year, as he lay awake and counted down the seconds until midnight, he didn’t think about himself. He never asked for himself. Never.

Now, three years later, Tyler lives with a family. He has two fathers, Neil and Andrew, who care about him. He has brothers, which he’s no longer afraid of losing. He has a younger sister. And this will be the third year he can wish for something for himself.

Once, before Neil and Andrew, Tyler knew one thing: as soon as he turned eighteen and the money to support him stopped coming in, he would be thrown out. Shown out as something unnecessary and insignificant. He knew it, he prepared for it. He was sure that no one would need him. No one would congratulate him. No one would want to be around him. No one would help him understand what it was like to be an adult.

He thought he would be alone. Forever.

"Ty?"

A soft whisper comes from behind the door. Tyler flinches, sits up in bed, and quickly glances at the clock on the nightstand. Two minutes past midnight. Tyler is already two minutes past eighteen.

"Yeah", he whispers back.

The door to his room opens slightly, and in the darkness, Tyler sees the familiar silhouette of his father walking inside.

"Papa? What are you doing here?"

Neil closes the door behind him and walks over to the bed, sitting down carefully on the very edge.

"Happy birthday", he says, smiling warmly.

Tyler nods reservedly.

"Thank you."

Neil reaches forward and takes Tyler’s trembling fingers in his own, squeezing them gently but firmly. His eyes are warm, as if he’s trying to reassure Tyler, catching something unspoken.

"So, what’s it like being an adult?", he asks quietly, a small smile in his voice.

Tyler lets out a shaky breath, as if he didn’t know he’d been holding it all this time. He shrugs, unsure, as if he’s afraid he might say the wrong thing.

"I don’t know. It’s weird. I can’t… I… I really don’t know."

He looks down at the sheets and fidgets, as if trying to find words that aren’t there. Neil nods, squeezing Tyler’s fingers tighter, as if trying to convey all his support through this gesture.

"Okay. So now you know."

"Know what?"

Tyler looks up, his eyes wide with confusion.

"How will it be?"

Neil answers quietly.

"Life is such an amazing thing, son. But it’s strange and confusing."

He pauses for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts, and then continues.

"When you’re a child, you can do almost anything you want without thinking about the consequences. Your parents will take care of everything. And you can just live, enjoy and be happy."

Tyler purses his lips, nodding uncertainly. Neil lifts his hand, places it gently on his son’s shoulder, and strokes it lightly, as if reassuring.

"This is how it should have been. You were supposed to be a carefree, spoiled brat who knew no troubles or problems. You were supposed to have a bike, scrapes on your knees, you were supposed to be taught how to swim and cook marshmallows over a fire. You were supposed to have a family. A home."

Neil pauses, catching his breath. His voice drops a little, almost to a whisper.

"Then maybe life wouldn’t seem so overwhelming."

"That’s so optimistic, Pa. Thanks."

Tyler snorts, but his tone is more sad than sarcastic. Neil grins, shaking his head.

"But you have all this. Now. With us."

He cups Tyler’s face in his hands, forcing Tyler to look him in the eyes.

"Don’t be afraid to move forward, don’t be afraid to take the first step. Don’t be afraid to step into the unknown. And never, do you hear me, never look back. You don’t need that. Because we’ll always be there, right behind you, ready to catch you if you need to. And you can always come home."

Neil smiles, soft and warm.

"Because you have a home, Ty. You have a family. You're eighteen, but you're still our son."

Tyler breaks down, a ragged sob escaping his lips.

"I know... I know... I just..."

His voice is shaking, and he bites his lip to hold back the tears.

"Shh..."

Neil gently wipes a tear from his cheek with his thumb.

"You know, but I'll still remind you. Just because you're an adult now and Andrew and I aren't legally obligated to take care of you doesn't mean we're not going to do that. You're our child. And you always will be. At nineteen, at twenty, at sixty. You'll always be my son."

Tyler sobs, crying, and clutches his father's arms as if afraid to let go. Neil strokes his face and hair, trying to soothe him.

"You're amazing. Smart, caring, sensitive, kind. You're amazing. And I can't wait to see what you can do with your life."

"I love you."

Tyler whispers, barely holding back tears.

"I love you too."

Neil responds, pulling him into a tight, comforting embrace.

"Happy birthday, son."

"Thank you."

Tyler whispers hoarsely, burying his face in his father's shoulder.

They sit like that, hugging each other, in the dark room. Tyler inhales deeply, smelling the faint scent of Neil's shampoo, the scent of his perfume, and the faintest whiff of tobacco.
At fifteen, Tyler never imagined that in three years, on his birthday, he would not be alone.

...

'Not alone' is putting it mildly.

Tyler stands in the middle of the living room, slightly shocked, looking around at what his parents have done that day. He knows that most of this is Uncle Nicky's work. His fathers? They would never have guessed to fill the house with so many colorful balloons. And that popper that just exploded right above his head, showering him and everything around in bright, shiny confetti... No, that was definitely Nicky. Tyler is sure that if it weren't his birthday and Andrew would have killed Nicky for such an idea.

"Happy birthday!"

Nicky shouts, beaming as if it was his birthday and not Tyler's.

There is another pop, and Tyler looks up, watching as colorful paper flakes slowly swirl in the air, settling on his shoulders and hair.

"Um...thanks?"

He answers hesitantly, running a hand through his hair to shake off the glitter.

"More! More! More!"

Valerie squeals, running under his feet, trying to catch the confetti in her mouth.

Tyler doesn't even have time to figure out how to react to this, but Neil is already in time to pick up his daughter in arms, covering her mouth with his palm.

"Don't eat them."

He says sternly, and then turns around and carries Valerie out of the room.

Valerie spins in his arms, kicking the air with her legs and Neil carries her out of the room, probably for another serious conversation about not putting anything shiny in your mouth. They still haven't recovered from the incident with the coin. Valerie swallowed it and Andrew had to turn her upside down and shake her until she came out, and Vi started breathing. Tyler still remembers how his own heart stopped at that moment.

His sad thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a hug. Nicky suddenly rushes to him, hugging him tightly and with the enthusiasm that is characteristic only of him. Tyler makes a strangled sound, but before his dad can intervene, he hugs his uncle back.

"Wow", Tyler breathes, unsure how to react.

"Oh my god, Nicky, let him go."

Aaron grumbles from somewhere off to the side. Nicky laughs, but for a second his arms tighten around his nephew. Then he steps back, giving Tyler a wide smile.

"You just want to hug him too."

He teases, glancing at Aaron, who doesn’t fall for it. Aaron hugs Tyler tightly, and it feels different. His hug is different. It’s warm, calm, the kind that feels more like a shield from the outside world.

Tyler feels strange, suddenly standing taller than everyone in his family. Aaron, though older, looks younger because of his short stature. Tyler feels like a giant next to him for a moment, and it’s weird.

"Happy birthday, Ty."

Aaron says, taking a step back but leaving the hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Uncle Aaron."

Tyler says, smiling uncontrollably. He looks at them both, Nicky, still beaming like the sun, and Aaron, reserved but sincere. Tyler’s heart clenches. He has uncles. He has a family.

The congratulations don’t end, and neither do the hugs. Tyler feels a little overwhelmed by all the attention. Even Uncle Kevin, who usually grumbles and looks sullen, is smiling at him with warmth.

"Happy birthday."

David says, hugging him. Tyler hugs his grandfather tightly, feeling his strong arms. When they pull away, he notices David quickly wipe the corner of his eye with his sleeve.

"Grandpa?"

Tyler asks quietly, leaning closer. David smiles a little apologetically and waves.

"Just glad to see you, that’s all", he says, patting Tyler on the shoulder.

Abby holds out her hands to him, her thin fingers shaking slightly but still strong. Tyler takes them in his own, warming them.

"My boy."

She says with a soft smile.

"So grown up already."

Abby looks him straight in the eye, as if she wants to say something, but instead she just smiles, full of pride and love.

"You’ve always surprised us, Ty", she says finally. "And I’m sure you’ll continue to do so."

"Thank you."

Tyler whispers, feeling his throat tighten with emotion. The living room is loud and cheerful. Even his parents’ friends have come to his party. The whole family is together, and the thought suddenly warms Tyler’s heart.

"It’s good to see you, honey", Renee smiles, squeezing his hands in hers.

Allison follows him, kissing him loudly on the cheek, then lowering her voice conspiratorially as she whispers in his ear.

"The presents are in the car. I’m going to need help bringing them all here."

"Presents?"

Tyler asks, raising his eyebrows.

"It's not every day you turn 18."

Allison winks, clearly pleased with the effect.

"Yeah!", Matt agrees.

He slaps Tyler hard on the shoulder, almost knocking him over.

"You're all grown up", he says, shaking his head. "And it seems like only yesterday we found out our friends were having a baby."

There's a chuckle, and Tyler sees Andrew roll his eyes, but he doesn't interrupt. It's clear he's enjoying this, even though he tries to hide his emotions behind his usual seriousness.

"I remember the first time I saw you", Matt continues with a warm smile. "I thought..."

He pauses for a moment, looking at Tyler with genuine pride.

"What a guy. He's going to be an amazing adult."

Tyler smiles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and joy inside him.

Dan approaches her husband with their daughter in the arms. She hands him the baby. Little Hope, clearly just awake, pouts and drools, reaching out to her father. Tyler notices Dan handing his daughter to her husband, and she turns to him. The little brother Chris had been waiting for turned out to be another sister.

"Stop it already."

She says to Matt with a soft smile. Then Dan smiles at him.

"Let me cuddle my nephew too."

Before Tyler can respond, Dan pulls him close, hugging him tightly but gently, as if trying to protect him from the whole world. Tyler sighs, hugging her back. He feels happy, loved, and most importantly, not alone. These people are his family. And each of them has come here to tell him: "You are important. You are ours."

The living room is a real celebration. All of Tyler’s loved ones are sitting at a large table covered with a variety of dishes. He glances at their faces again. Tyler still feels the warmth of recent congratulations. Sophie gave him a card with a beautiful picture. And he smiled, putting the card on the shelf with the rest of the gifts. Valerie gave him a crooked cat, molded from plasticine: one ear was crooked, and the tail looked like a tangled spiral. Tyler happily placed this "sculpture" on the shelf in his room - let it always be in sight.

Chris and Jim gave him a pendant with the emblem of his favorite band, which they bought with money that they saved for several months. Tyler immediately put it on his neck, deciding that he would never take it off.

Now they are all sitting at the table, talking, laughing and enjoying delicious food.

"Valerie, how are you doing?"

Katelyn asks, carefully helping the girl cut the chicken.

"Good."

Valerie answers, looking up at her.

"I like it here. And there are cats here."

"Are you a good girl? Do you listen to your parents?"

Abby asks, looking at her over the glasses.

"Very good!", she says proudly.

Neil and Andrew exchange glances and smile slightly.

At this time, David picks up baby Hope, rocking her to sleep. She laughs quietly while he rocks her in his arms, and Dan looks at them with a smile.

The children, having eaten their fill, run up to the second floor, leaving the adults in relative peace. Their laughter and conversations can still be heard from above.

Abby sits on the couch next to Renee, her head slightly tilted to the side, listening attentively to her story about her latest move. Renee, animatedly gesturing, tells.

"I thought this house would be perfect, but it turns out that it has absolutely terrible neighbors! Can you imagine, one day someone pulled our flowers out of the flower bed right in front of the front door!"

Abby frowns, shaking her head indignantly.

"Flowers? Seriously? Who even does things like that?"

"Exactly!"

Renee sighs, throwing up her hands.

"And then there's the noise in the evenings. There's always some kind of party, music. But thank God we found a new house, and it's much better there."

"That's great," Abby says with a smile. "I know how hard it is to find a place that feels like home."

Renee smiles gratefully, and their conversation smoothly flows into discussing the details of the new house.

At this time, Kevin is talking to Matt. They both look relaxed, but their conversation is clearly about something serious.

Across the room, Aaron is sitting in a chair next to Allison, and they are enthusiastically discussing old acquaintances from college.

"Do you remember Karl?"

Allison laughs, leaning her elbow on the armrest of the chair.

"Oh, of course I remember him," Aaron grimaces, shaking his head. "He was always trying to be the smartest guy in the room."

"Did you know he works at a school now?", Allison giggles.

Aaron looks at her with disbelief.

"At school? Carl? The man couldn't even organize himself, and now he's teaching kids?"

"Imagine that!", Allison laughs. "But I heard he's doing pretty well."

"Well, I'm happy for him", Aaron agrees with a slight smile. "It's still weird to think about, though."

The room is filled with a cozy hum of laughter and conversation. Tyler sits in the corner, watching with a slight smile. He likes this atmosphere — warm, lively, filled with family. Such a noisy celebration is both exhausting and wonderful.

"So, Ty, tell us what you've decided to do next?"

Suddenly, Nicky's voice interrupts his thoughts.

"Next?", Tyler blinks, looking at him, confused.

"Well, after school. Have you decided what you're going to do?"

"Nicky!"

Andrew speaks loudly, interrupting his brother. He gives him a warning look.

"Stop it", he adds, shaking his head.

"What did I ask? I was just wondering... "

Nicky starts to make excuses, but Erik gently takes his hand.

"Don't, Mein Schatz", he says with a smile. "Remember yourself at 18 and all those constant questions about the future."

Nicky winces, as if he's bitten into a lemon.

"Ugh. Forgive me, Ty, I'm silent", he says, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

Tyler nods gratefully at Erik, returning his attention back to his plate. His heart feels warm. He has a family. A family that will support him, listen to him, and always be there for him, even when the future is not yet completely clear.

"Then another question."

Nicky continues with a mischievous grin, leaning forward.

"Someone shut him up already."

Aaron whispers under his breath, shaking his head. He immediately receives a light elbow in the ribs from his wife and a stern look from Abby.

"We’re celebrating", she quietly reprimands.

"Sorry", Aaron replies, leaning back in his chair.

But Nicky doesn’t seem to notice. His face breaks into an even wider smile.

"So, Ty, here’s my question. Do you have a boyfriend yet? Or if not…"

He doesn’t have time to finish. Tyler jumps up from his seat, hearing the doorbell ring.

"Sorry! I’ll be right back!:, he says quickly, already heading for the exit.

Muffled voices remain behind him.

"What were you thinking?"

His father’s voice is heard, addressed to Nicky.

"Can't you leave him alone on his own birthday?"

"I was just asking!", Nicky defends himself.

Tyler opens the door and breathes a sigh of relief.

"You finally came", he says, smiling warmly.

Betsy stands in the doorway, her face lit up with a bright smile. She holds out her arms forward, inviting him into her arms.

"Of course I did", she replies.

Tyler hugs her without thinking. Her presence, as always, has a calming effect on him.

"Come in", he says, stepping back slightly and gesturing for her to enter the house.

Betsy steps inside, easily removing her coat, and turns toward the living room.

"Sorry, I'm late. Traffic", she explains, a little embarrassed.

The voices in the room become animated.

"Bee", Andrew greets her, already getting up and heading toward her.

Andrew brings her a chair and places it next to his.

"Thank you, Andrew", she says before leaning closer to him.

They exchange a few quiet words and Andrew nods, his expression softening slightly.

"It’s okay", he tells her quietly.

Betsy squeezes his shoulder, handing it over, and then sits down at the table.

"So, who’s going to tell me what I missed?", she asks with a smile.

The conversations continue, laughter and animated discussion filling the room. Allison, leaning closer to Tyler, says with a small smile.

"Ty, you’re an adult. Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your friends?"

Tyler smiles back, shrugging slightly.

"That'll be tomorrow", he says. "I wanted to celebrate with you first. With my family."

Allison nods approvingly. David, sitting a little further away. He looks at Tyler with warmth.

"There’s nothing more important than family", he says. "I'm glad you invited us."

Tyler feels a warmth spreading inside him. He smiles at David, but doesn't have time to respond because Andrew and Neil walk into the room carrying a large cake with lit candles.

"Here comes the main event of the evening."

Andrew announces, placing the cake in the center of the table.

"Oh, look! Cake!"

Chris yells, running out from behind Neil and almost running into the table.

"Careful, Chris!"

Kevin says, raising his hands to keep him from colliding. The kids run down one by one, drawn by the dessert. Valerie squeezes between the adults to get closer to the cake, and Jim and Chris argue over who gets to cut themselves a slice first.

"Calm down."

Katelyn laughs, raising her hands to calm everyone down.

"First the song, then the candles."

"Everyone ready?"

Nicky asks, looking around the crowd.

"Ready!", the kids answer in unison.

They start singing "Happy Birthday'. The adults' voices mix with the children's, and Valerie even tries to sing along, slightly stumbling over the lyrics. Tyler feels his heart overflowing with joy.

When the song ends, Andrew says with a soft, barely noticeable smile.

"Okay, Ty, now make a wish."

Everyone falls silent, Tyler closes his eyes. What should he ask for? What should he wish for? Tyler knows what he would like. He doesn't have to think long. He wants his family to always be close. For this warm feeling he feels now to never leave him.

Tyler takes a deep breath, opens his eyes and slowly blows out the candles. The candles go out one by one, to loud applause and joyful cries.

"What did you wish for?"

Valerie asks immediately, looking at him with big, curious eyes.

"It's a secret", Tyler answers with a slight smile.

"Well, at least give me a hint!"

Nicky pleads, but Tyler just shakes his head, smiling wider. Andrew picks up a knife to begin cutting the cake.

"Okay, stop torturing him. Let his wish come true", he says, handing Tyler the first piece.

"Thanks, Dad", Tyler says, accepting the plate.

He looks at the people gathered at the table, at their warm smiles, at their animated conversations, and realizes: his wish has already begun to come true.

...

After everyone has eaten their fill of cake, Neil claps his hands, getting their attention.

"Now, everyone outside! We have another surprise for you, Ty."

"What kind of surprise?"

Tyler asks, standing up from the table.

"You'll see", Andrew says mysteriously, nodding towards the door.

Everyone leaves the house, bundled up in warm clothes. The night is cold, but clear. The wind stings his cheeks and the stars in the sky twinkle especially brightly. Tyler stands waiting, exchanging glances with the younger ones, who are jumping around happily.

"So, what’s the surprise?", he blurts out.

"Happy birthday, Ty."

Neil says, pointing to the car parked outside the house. Tyler turns around and sees a brand new black car with shiny headlights and a red bow tucked into the hood.

"Are you kidding me?"

He looks from Neil to Andrew, genuine shock in his eyes.

"No", Neil laughs. "It’s your own car."

"No way…"

Tyler steps closer, stunned, running his hand over the shiny hood. His fingers tremble slightly with excitement. He turns to Neil and Andrew, his eyes wide.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"We thought it would be a good gift", Neil says. "You’ll be going to college soon, and you’ll need a car to come home when you want."

"But you still have to get your driving license", Andrew adds.

"Oh, and I can teach him how to drive!"

Nicky says loudly, walking up to them with a mischievous grin.

"NOT YOU!"

Aaron snaps, grabbing his brother’s arm as if to stop Nicky.

"Oh, come on."

Nicky laughs, raising an eyebrow.

"Am I that bad at driving?"

Andrew pulls a small keychain from his pocket. Tyler freezes as his father hands them to him. His eyes are glued to the keys. Before he hands them over, Andrew raises his hand slightly, stopping his son.

"But there are a few rules."

"Of course!"

Tyler answers quickly, already looking forward to getting behind the wheel.

"First of all", Andrew continues, looking at him seriously. "Always wear your seatbelt. No exceptions."

"Yeah, Dad, I know."

Tyler replies, tapping his feet impatiently.

"Second of all, no texting or calling while driving. And no drunk driving, even if it’s just one beer."

Andrew adds, looking him straight in the eye.

"Do you understand?"

"Yeah, Dad, I get it."

"And if I find out you’ve broken any of these rules…"

Andrew narrows his eyes.

"I promise!"

Tyler interrupts, raising his hands in surrender.

"I won’t break a single rule. I’ll always wear my seatbelt, and I won’t even speed."

Andrew looks at him carefully, then smiles and places the keys in his palm, squeezing them.

"Happy birthday, Ty", he says.

"Thank you, Dad. Thank you, thank you."

Tyler says, clutching the keys to his chest. His voice is shaking with emotion.

"I... I don't even know what to say."

Neil claps him on the shoulder.

"Want to take it for a test drive?"

Tyler opens the door and gets behind the wheel. The car smells of new upholstery and leather, and the dashboard lights are sparkling. He puts his hands on the wheel, feeling the excitement ignite inside him.

"How do you like it?", Neil asks, peering inside.

"This is incredible."

Tyler replies, turning to face them. His eyes are shining with joy.

"Thank you so much!"

The younger kids run around the car, excitedly discussing who will be the first to ride with Ty. Valerie jumps up and down, waving her arms.

"I want the front seat!"

"Hey, not now", Neil laughs. "Ty still has to get his license."

Tyler starts the engine, enjoying the smooth purr of the engine. He carefully drives the car into the yard, feeling his heart beat with joy and excitement.

He will definitely remember this day forever.

Chapter Text

"Fuck."

Tyler whispers under his breath. He absentmindedly scratches his neck, looking at the sheets of paper scattered in front of him. University brochures are dazzling his eyes. Beautiful buildings in photographs, smiling, happy students, inspiring slogans about a bright future. All this should motivate a graduate searching for himself, but Tyler only feels growing nausea.

"This is fucked up."

How many times has Tyler tried to figure all this out? How many times has he opened university websites, trying to read at least one program in full, but in the end he just closed the tab because the words began to merge into a solid blur?

The last six months have been a real nightmare for him. Wherever he went, everyone was talking about admissions. Teachers at school, classmates, friends - everyone seemed to conspire to discuss plans for the future, their enthusiasm was almost infectious, but Tyler remained immune to it.

,"University of South Carolina!"

The recruiter's voice echoes through the assembly hall, filled with seniors.

"Princeton!"

"Yale!"

"Harvard!"

Tyler closes his eyes, but the noise doesn't stop.

The voices come from the stage one after another, video presentations, photos of campuses, stories of students who have found their place in life. Words about opportunities, about brilliant career prospects, about how getting into the right university decides your entire future. His classmates listen attentively, some even take notes, some discuss programs. And Tyler feels his head begin to spin.

All he hears is his mother's quiet voice: "You can't do this" in the back of his mind.

Tyler tries to calm himself down and find a logical explanation for his fear. But until he gets his exam results, there is no point in thinking about it. There is no point in even looking at these brochures. Maybe he didn't pass at all. Maybe he will be too stupid for a bright future. He might not even have a choice.

The hallways of the school were littered with admissions information. Brochures, banners, meetings with counselors. No matter where Tyler went, he couldn't hide from it.

Even his friends were talking about it.

"Have you applied yet?"

"I'm considering med school or engineering, what about you?"

"My parents want me to go to Harvard, but I like Duke better."

"Have you looked at programs with your future career in mind, Ty?"

It seemed like everyone around him already knew where they were going, but Tyler was stuck in his own place, mired in his own fears and doubts.

Every time someone asked him, "So, where are you going?" his insides sank.

Tyler doesn't know. He just doesn't know.

When his parents noticed how much pressure all these questions were putting on him, they made the only right decision: no discussion of universities at home.

"Tyler will decide for himself when he's ready."

Andrew said firmly, and from then on, no one brought it up in his presence. Ty was more grateful for that than he could ever say. His home was the only safe haven where he could breathe a sigh of relief and forget for a while that everyone was waiting for him to make a decision.

But even with that relief, the anxiety didn't go away. Tyler lay awake at night, listening to his little sister's breathing through the wall, Chris's snores down the hall, and his parents' quiet conversations downstairs, and he thought painfully:

"What if I leave and they miss me? What if I leave and I'm miserable there? What if I leave and then realize it was a mistake?"

Tyler didn't even know what he wanted. He barely made it to the end of high school. He felt like he had gone through finals and graduation in a fog. His entire family was there, of course. They were proud of him, they were looking at him with smiles, but it was as if Tyler didn't even see them. Tyler looked at them and felt a slow panic rising inside him. Because now it was over. School was over. And he really had to decide what to do next.

Tyler couldn't breathe.

Sometimes at night, when he was alone in the quiet of his room, his heart started beating too fast and there was a lump in his throat. Tyler tried to take a deep breath, but the air wouldn't get into his lungs. His whole body felt paralyzed. He clutched the edge of the light blanket with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to wait for the panic to subside. And the more Tyler thought about it, the tighter his throat tightened. He can't imagine himself in another city, far from home, without his brothers and sister, without his parents. It felt like he only had to step into the unknown to fall into the abyss.

The house had changed in the last few weeks. Chris and Jim had suddenly become quieter - they weren't playing so loudly downstairs anymore, weren't running around the halls, weren't having spontaneous pillow fights. Even Valerie, who usually chatted non-stop, was now speaking softly, more carefully, as if she was afraid to say the wrong thing. His family tried to support him as best they could. His aunts and uncles sent him gifts - books, sweets, even some themed notebooks for planning. Tyler knew they did it with the best intentions, but each such gesture only reminded him that everyone was waiting.

Everything happens suddenly.

It was an ordinary evening. They were having dinner. Tyler was just beginning to feel somewhat calm when Andrew, casually biting into a piece of chicken, asked.

"How are you?"

He didn't ask about college. He never asked about it. He just wanted to make conversation. But Tyler suddenly can't breathe. The world around him feels like it's shrinking, the sounds are muffled. He feels his palms getting sweaty, his heart starting to pound too fast, too loud, the blood pounding in his ears.

He can't breathe.

"Ty?"

Andrew looks at him and notices it first. He takes his son's hand carefully, trying to catch his son's darting gaze.

"Are you breathing? Let's do it together: inhale and exhale."

His voice is soft but firm. He doesn't let go of Tyler's hand, squeezing it a little tighter, as if bringing him back to reality. Neil is already there. He crouches down in front of Tyler, placing his hand on his knee.

"It's okay," he says quietly, but there's a firmness in his voice. "You're safe. We're here."

Tyler feels someone brushing the damp strands of hair from his forehead. Someone telling him that everything is okay, that everything is under control, that no one expects him to make a decision right away.

And he believes them.

Finally, after a long, shaky breath, the panic begins to subside. Tyler rests his forehead on Neil’s palm, feeling its warmth, and closes his eyes.

Late at night, he lies in bed, clutching his phone, but he doesn’t read, doesn’t watch anything, just tries to push away the anxious thoughts. But then he hears voices. His parents are talking in the bedroom, quietly, but enough for Tyler to hear them.

I don’t like the way he looks," Andrew’s voice is low, tense. "He’s not sleeping, Neil. He’s not eating properly."

"I know," Neil’s quiet reply. "Fuck, I can tell he’s not feeling well."

"Fuck."

Tyler scratches his neck again. Over and over.

"Ty?"

Tyler flinches as Andrew sits down next to him. He quickly covers the brochures with his hands, as if it were something shameful.

"I..."

He can't talk. He just can't.

He reaches for his neck again.

Andrew grabs his hand, squeezing it tightly, not letting him do it again.

"What's going on?"

Tyler blinks, trying to find the words. He looks up at his father's face, and Andrew frowns, studying him with his eyes, as if solving another difficult riddle.

And it makes Tyler want to cry.

Neil comes over and places a cup of hot tea in front of him, moving it closer.

"Drink it before it gets cold," he says softly.

Tyler obediently takes the cup in his hands, feeling the warmth pass through his fingers.

"We want to talk to you, Ty."

Andrew squeezes his hand, but his voice is still calm.

"No pressure, no expectations. Just talk."

Tyler nods, but doesn’t look up.

"We know you’re going through this. We can see it."

Neil leans closer, looking into his face.

"You’re not alone in this. We’re here. We’re here to help. Tell me, what do you want?"

Tyler’s grip on the cup tightens.

"But that’s the problem, I don’t know what I want."

His voice is shaking. Neil places a hand on his shoulder.

"And that’s okay."

Tyler inhales sharply, trying to hold back the emotions that are trying to come out. He’s so tired of this pressure, of this questioning, of this disappointment in himself.

"Ty, we can see how hard this is for you. We don’t want you to feel like you have to do something just because it’s the norm."

Andrew watches him, head cocked to the side.

"I don't think you have to go far. We have a great local college. You can go to school here, live at home, and everything will be fine."

But Neil shakes his head.

"Don't listen to him, Ty. You have a car now. That means you can go to any college you want. You have freedom."

"What if I can't? What if I screw up? What if I leave and ruin everything?"

He wants to say more - about the fear of being alone, about the feeling that he's not worthy of such a choice, about the eternal insecurity that his mother instilled in him and that chokes him from the inside.

But he can't.

Neil and Andrew exchange glances. Neil is the first to break the silence.

"You know, I used to think that I couldn't do anything, too. I didn't make plans, didn't dream, didn't think about the future. I never expected to live to be eighteen."

Tyler looks up at him slowly. Neil grins, but there's no humor in it.

"I was so sure I wasn't meant to get out. That it would be over before I had a chance. I lived one day at a time because I thought there would be no other. And then David came along. He saw something in me that I didn't see. He believed in me."

Andrew nods slightly.

"What about me? Do you think I dreamed of going somewhere after to school?"

Tyler blinks, and Andrew exhales.

"I couldn't think straight when I was your age, Ty. I was on drugs that turned me into a maniac. I was sick of anxiety, of myself, of everything that lay ahead."

He smiles, but there's bitterness in it.

"If someone had asked me back then, 'Where are you going to go after to school?' I wouldn't have answered. Because I just didn't know."

Tyler clings to those words. He sees that they're telling the truth. Neil places his hand on the back of his head, lightly running his fingers through his hair.

"We know how hard this is. So if you want, you can take a break. One year. Just to rest, to figure yourself out. To figure out what you want."

Tyler swallows.

"And if I still don’t figure it out?"

Neil squeezes the back of his head a little tighter, leaning closer.

"Then we’ll figure it out together."

...

A few sleepless nights.

Two panic attacks.

And when he can’t eat for breakfast from exhaustion, and there are dark circles under his eyes, Andrew can’t take it anymore.

"You’re going to Bee’s."

Tyler freezes, clutching his spoon.

"I don’t have time for this!", he exclaims. "I need to look at all the options, consider my options, and—"

"And take care of myself", Neil interrupts harshly, supporting Andrew.

Tyler opens his mouth, but the words stick in his throat.

"If you have a nervous breakdown and believe me, you are, this won’t help you", Neil adds.

Tyler shakes his head.

"But, Papa..."

He starts to argue, but Neil holds up a hand, stopping him.

"No. Ty, we promised you we wouldn’t force you to do anything. And therapy isn’t about forcing you. It’s your choice. So you have two options: you can go to Betsy’s, or you can come to practice with me, where you can fetch balls and take your mind off the future. Got it?"

Tyler exhales. Maybe he really does need a distraction. He slams his laptop shut, relaxing a little.

"Got it."

Neil crosses his arms over his chest.

"What’s your choice? Will you come with me?"

Tyler snorts, grinning like himself for the first time all morning.

"Absolutely not. I’m going to Bee’s."

Neil rolls his eyes, but quickly pulls him in for a hug before heading off to practice.

"We can watch a movie tonight if you want", he suggests.

Tyler feels something inside him thaw a little.

"Aaron’s having the kids, so it’s your choice."

"Thank you", Tyler whispers, hugging him back.

And that one thank you says so much.

'Thank you for being there.'

'Thank you for your support.'

'Thank you for loving me.'

The drive to Betsy’s is silent. Tyler sits staring out the window, arms crossed over his chest. The car rolls smoothly along the familiar streets, but he barely notices it—his thoughts are filling his head again, heavy and oppressive.

Andrew feels it.

He holds the steering wheel with one hand, and with the other he checks from time to time to make sure Tyler isn’t clenching his fists too tightly, or that his fingers aren’t shaking.

"Are you okay?", he asks finally, breaking the silence.

Tyler shrugs.

"Fine."

It’s an obvious lie, and they both know it.

Andrew lets out a quiet breath, but says nothing more. Tyler appreciates it. He can’t talk now.

When they pull up to Betsy’s, Tyler hesitates before unbuckling his seatbelt. His heart is pounding. He wants to be here. He wants to talk. He knows he needs to. But he’s still afraid.

Andrew puts the car in gear, turns off the engine, and looks at him calmly.

"I’ll wait here for you", he says.

Tyler turns to him sharply.

"Dad, this isn’t necessary. It’s going to take an hour, so don’t wait up for me."

But Andrew doesn’t move. He just looks at his son, carefully, calmly, gently.

"I’ll wait", he repeats.

Tyler opens his mouth, but then closes it, unable to find anything to say.

His father had always waited for him.

Waited for Ty to accept himself.

Waited for him to stop being afraid.

Waited for him to trust them.

"Thank you", he whispers.

Tyler takes a deep breath and gets out of the car, gathering his thoughts before meeting Betsy. Andrew stays where he is. And waits.

...

The office is still the same.

The same soft light coming through the large window.

The same clock on the wall, steadily counting down the seconds. The same cozy chairs, one of which almost feels like home.

Tyler hasn't been here in a while, preferring online sessions due to exams, studying for his final, and... well, to be honest, just not wanting to leave the house. Now he's sitting here, clutching a cup of something hot, and all he cares about at this moment is the drink he's just been given.

"That's not my coffee," he winces, sniffing the liquid in the cup.

Betsy smiles, leaning back in her chair.

"That's decaf."

Tyler looks at her suspiciously, then sniffs the drink again, making sure there's no coffee in it at all.

"And it's not even coffee," he mutters, taking a hesitant sip. "It's just... colored water."

"I could still offer you tea," Betsy offers with a knowing smile.

"No, thanks."

Tyler sighs and, deciding not to give in, takes another quick sip, hoping that if he drinks faster, the taste won't have time to catch up with him.

"Just tell me who I should kill for this," he jokes, grimacing.

Betsy laughs, softly, genuinely, as if she's actually amused.

"I won't be an accessory to this crime," she plays along.

They just laugh for a few more minutes, sitting across from each other, and Tyler finds himself feeling a little better. A warm feeling flickers somewhere in his chest, reminding him that he's safe. But Betsy knows why he’s here. She sets her cup down and looks at him carefully.

"Talk?"

Tyler shrugs, looking down at the mug in his hands.

"I guess it’s time."

Betsy waits patiently. She doesn’t rush him, doesn’t push him, just gives him space. Tyler appreciates it. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a moment. Something heavy and sticky rises inside him, like a lump in his throat.

"I don’t think I deserve this", he finally says.

Betsy nods, showing that she’s listening carefully.

"Like I don’t have a right to this", he adds, barely audible.

Betsy’s eyes are soft, but her voice is firm.

"Who told you you don’t deserve this?"

Tyler is silent. He knows who. Images flash in his head: A loud voice. Harsh words. A woman’s face, twisted with anger and irritation.

"Ty. Remember, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay…"

"No. No. I want to. I just…"

He rubs his face with his hands, trying to collect himself.

"I know where this is coming from."

Tyler’s fingers tighten around his mug.

"Mom… She always told me I’d never amount to anything in life. That I…"

He stutters, but forces himself to finish.

"…That no one needs me. That I’m a mistake."

Betsy stays close. Doesn’t turn away. Doesn’t rush to speak. Tyler exhales heavily, his voice shaking.

"And I just… believed her."

He looks up and meets her gaze.

"I believed her."

Betsy leans forward and takes his hand.

"Ty, you were ten."

Tyler swallows.

"So? It doesn’t change anything. I still… I still live with it."

"Of course it does."

Betsy’s voice is soft but firm.

"You were a child. Children trust their parents. Even when they hurt them. Even when they say terrible things."

She squeezes his hand before letting go and settling back into her chair.

“It’s not your fault.”

Tyler is silent.

"Are you afraid you’ll let your parents down?"

He nods.

"I’m afraid I’ll disappoint them."

Betsy waits a few seconds before asking her next question.

"Have they ever given you any reason to think that?"

Tyler answers without thinking.

"No. Never."

He feels the heaviness inside him ease slightly. As if this answer is the first step to something important. Betsy smiles.

"Then you can be sure of them."

She pauses, letting Tyler process her words, then asks softly.

"What else is bothering you?"

Tyler hesitates. The words catch in his throat. He doesn’t want to talk. But at the same time, he wants to be understood.

"It’s not just Mom", he finally manages. "I…"

His voice trembles. Tyler swallows, looking down.

"I can’t sleep."

Tyler squeezes his fingers tighter, feeling them go cold with tension.

"And eat, if I haven’t. And think normally."

He closes his eyes and exhales tiredly.

"I just… can’t sleep."

Betsy frowns.

"Insomnia is a big deal."

She pauses for a moment, studying his face, then adds carefully.

"If you don’t mind, I’ll prescribe you a mild herbal sedative and melatonin. That should help."

Tyler nods. But something inside him breaks. The words freeze in his throat, and then they burst out.

"I’m tired."

His voice breaks, and before he can stop himself, a sob escapes his chest.

"I’m so tired."

He doesn’t want to cry. But he does. Tyler clenches his fists, trying not to break down, but tears roll down his cheeks. Betsy doesn’t turn away. She just silently hands him a napkin and lets him cry.

And it helps.

...

Tyler takes the medication Betsy prescribed, and after a few days, he feels better. He can finally sleep. Not without dreams or waking up in the middle of the night. But at least he can sleep. Now that his brain isn't in constant tension, the anxiety quiets. It doesn't go away. No. But it doesn't choke him anymore.

Tyler takes his first deep breath in a long time, and feels the oxygen filling his lungs. He makes a decision. A few days later, he gathers his fathers in the living room. He sits in front of them, fingering the corner of the brochure. They wait in silence.

"I've been thinking about what you said. About the year I might miss and all that."

Tyler pauses, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

"But... I want to try."

He hands them a brochure.
On the cover is the name of the university Tyler has chosen.

"I decided that civil engineering would be a good idea."

It feels weird for him to say it out loud. But it sounds right.

"I can design and build buildings."

Andrew takes the brochure, silently examining it. Neil peers over his shoulder, examining the pages with interest. Tyler takes a breath.

"You’re right, I have a choice."

He clenches his fists and admits honestly.

"And I want to use it."

Tyler takes a breath.

"I’ve always wanted to create something. I… always wanted to prove to my mother that I could do something."

Neil and Andrew exchange glances. Andrew puts the brochure down.

"Ty, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone."

"I know."

Tyler clenches his fists.

"But I remember her telling me I’d fail. That I’d be nothing forever."

He wipes his eyes with his sleeve.

"I want to build something real. Something beautiful. Something that will last for decades."

Tyler looks up at his parents.

"Something solid, something she can’t destroy."

"We’re proud of you, Ty."

"No matter what path you choose, we’ll always be here for you."

That night, Tyler sends off his college application. And the moment he hits the submit button, he feels the weight of worry finally lift off his shoulders.

...

Neil and Andrew are used to counting their heads. With a large family, especially four kids, you quickly get used to checking to make sure no one’s missing.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

All in place.

Tyler hugs his brothers and sister for a long time, feeling his heart squeeze. Valerie is sobbing loudly, and Jim and Chris are clinging to him, as if they are afraid that if they let go, he will immediately disappear into thin air.

"Come on, enough of this..."

Tyler tries to speak calmly, but his own voice is shaking.

"I'll be just a couple of hours away from here."

Valerie squeezes his sleeve tighter.

"And you'll come for the weekend?"

"Of course! Or are you coming to my place!"

But seeing new tears in his sister's eyes, he quickly corrects himself.

"I'll come. I'll come, I promise."

"And you won't forget us? Will you call?"

Jim asks, timidly wiping his face with his sleeve. Tyler smiles at him.

"Of course I will."

"Every night?"

Chris sobs. Tyler sighs.

"Maybe not everyone… but I’ll try to as often as I can."

He takes a breath.

"I love you so much."

And before any of them can start crying again, Tyler hugs them all at once, holding them tight.

"Ty."

Andrew calls him. Tyler knows it’s time to go. He reluctantly lets go of his brothers and sister, but not before ruffling their hair one more time.

"Call and text me. Okay?"

"I’ll be there!"

Valerie cries through her tears. Tyler leans down to kiss her cheek.

"Thank you, princess."

He turns to his brothers.

"We will be there too!"

Jim nods, holding out his arms. Tyler hugs him tightly, then hugs Chris the same way.

"Bye."

Chris whispers. Tyler feels something inside him tighten,
but he forces himself to unclench his fingers and step forward. It’s time.

Tyler adjusts the strap of his backpack, takes a deep breath, and heads to the car, where his dads are waiting. Andrew looks calm, but Tyler can see the truth. He notices the tense line of his shoulders,
the set of his jaw, the trembling of his fingertips.

He’s nervous. So are they all.

Tyler hugs him first, tightly, strongly, as if he wants to convey all his gratitude through a single touch.

"You’ll call if anything happens."

Andrew’s voice is even, but Tyler can hear the tremor. He nods.

"And you will call. And text. About everything."

"Of course, Dad."

Tyler squeezes him in his arms before letting go.

"I love you."

Andrew gently runs his hand through his hair in response, then steps back.
Neil is now looking at Tyler. He’s standing by the car, pretending to inspect the paint. He’s barely spoken in the last few days. Tyler understands. He knows what happened to Neil when he was eighteen. He knows this moment is hard for him.

"Dad."

Neil jerks, as if Tyler has abruptly pulled him out of his thoughts. Tyler steps closer, holding his arms out in front of him.

"You’re not even going to give me a hug before you leave?"

That breaks the last wall, and Tyler is quickly wrapped in a tight embrace. Neil’s breathing is harsh, squeezing his shoulders.

Tyler closes his eyes.

"It’s going to be okay, Dad."

Neil nods, but Tyler doesn’t wait for him to answer. He knows it’s hard for him to talk today.

"It'll be okay because I have a family I can always come back to."

Neil squeezes his hands a little tighter and takes a step back. He rubs his eyes quickly, as if no one has noticed he's crying. Valerie, sobbing uncontrollably, clings to Neil, sharing the bitterness of separation. Jim and Chris stand next to Andrew. Jim hides his face in his sleeve, his shoulders shaking. Chris is silent, but his eyes, red from crying, speak for themselves.

Tyler smiles warmly at them.

"I'll text when I get there."

He gets behind the wheel, taking one last look at the house. His home. His family. Forever. Nothing will change. Not today. Not tomorrow. He can come back anytime. And now he knows it. He can do anything.

Tyler buckles up, puts his hands on the wheel and slowly presses the gas. He allows himself to cry only after half an hour, when familiar streets give way to strange ones. When his home is left behind. He wipes the tears from his cheek, collecting his thoughts.

The phone rings. Tyler reaches for the phone and turns it on speakerphone, trying to suppress the tremor in his voice.

"Hello?"

"We miss you already, Ty!"

Chris shouts into the phone.

"We love you!"

"I love you."

Tyler smiles through his tears,
not taking his eyes off the road.

"I miss you too."

Chapter Text

Everything was going great for the first few weeks. Tyler felt inspired, as if a new, long-awaited chapter of his life had finally opened up before him. He wrote and called home regularly, told his family about everything that was happening to him and happily shared the news. Sometimes he called Neil, sometimes Andrew, and sometimes both at once to hear their voices and not give them any extra reason to worry. He knew that they were worried, even if they tried their best not to show it. Their questions always sounded unobtrusive, but Tyler felt their anxiety between the lines:

"Are you eating normally?"

"What is your daily routine?"

"Do you have time to rest?"

He smiled, told them about his classes, about his new acquaintances, about the teachers he liked. He didn't say that sometimes he lay awake at night, listening to his neighbors laughing loudly behind the wall, and felt a strange emptiness. He didn't mention that sometimes, walking past a cafe that smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread, he suddenly missed home so much that he froze for a second. Why? They were already worried. It was better to just tell the truth the one that would calm them down:

"I like it here. Really. Everything is cool."

In addition to calling, Tyler regularly wrote to the general family chat. From his first day at university, Nicky insisted that Ty needs to send "photo reports" there, and it was useless to resist his persistence. Now pictures regularly appeared in the chat: his morning coffee, the view from the window, stacks of blueprints scattered on the table, selfies with classmates. Sometimes he recorded short videos, showing what his audience looked like and talking about his projects.

"Are you satisfied with the amount of content, Nicky?"

He joked, sending another photo.

"For now, yes, but don't relax there."

He knew that Neil and Andrew read everything he sent, even if they didn't always respond right away. And it was important to Tyler that they saw that he was fine.

Video calls with friends helped him not to feel lonely, and new acquaintances in the dorm and university charged him with energy. And around his neck there was always a pendant that his younger brothers gave him. He had never taken it off since the moment he received it. When Tyler was thinking, he automatically twirled the pendant between his fingers, feeling its smooth surface. And in moments of sadness, when loneliness rolled in too sharply, he squeezed the cold metal in his hand, as if reminding himself that he had a place to return to. It gave him strength.

His room gradually became cozy. In the first days it seemed empty and impersonal, but Tyler brought with him photographs of his family, a few favorite books, and a small table lamp from his bedroom, casting a warm, soft light. On the nightstand next to his bed, he placed a crooked but charming kitten figurine that Vi made herself and gave him for his eighteenth birthday; since then, it has always stood next to his bed. He admired the view from the window, studied the class schedule, and felt a pleasant anticipation.

Studying at the university turned out to be even more interesting than he expected. From the very first lectures, he felt a wave of inspiration: the teachers spoke enthusiastically, explained complex things in an accessible language, and the atmosphere in the classroom filled him with excitement. He prepared for each lesson with enthusiasm, looked through the course materials, made sketches, and tried new techniques.

"Who knows the answer?"

The teacher’s voice sounds calm, but there is anticipation in it. The audience freezes. Some look away, some dig around in their notes, pretending to look for the necessary information. Tyler sits with his back straight, ready to answer, but is in no hurry to raise his hand. However, the teacher is already looking straight at him.

"Well, of course, Mr. Minyard."

Tyler sighs heavily and stands up, tucking the hem of his shirt into his jeans with a familiar movement.

"Josten-Minyard."

Ty corrects, but his voice sounds even, almost indifferent. He gives an answer — correct, detailed, the one expected of him. The teacher nods, and in the audience, someone exchanges glances: again this guy who always knows everything.

When his work is noticed and praised, a warm feeling of pride spreads inside him — it’s nice and motivates him to move on. Tyler especially enjoyed the practical classes. When he drew lines on the drawing paper, concentrating on measuring out every detail, his thoughts became clear, and the whole world seemed to shrink to the sharp tip of the pencil in his hands and the blank sheet in front of him. Sometimes he got so carried away that he lost track of time, staying in the classroom longer than anyone else.

After classes, he returned to the dorm, sat down at his laptop, looked for inspiring works of famous architects and tried to repeat their style in his sketches. In the evenings, he chatted with his roommates, discussing his studies, new acquaintances and plans for the future.

Everything seemed so exciting - a whole life full of discoveries awaited him. Everything is really good, until suddenly it is not.

...

Tyler feels terrible.

He has never been so far from home. Never lived alone. He did not imagine how hard it would be. It would seem that here it is freedom, independence, adult life, but for some reason it does not bring joy. Apparently, this is the law of adult life: you just exist, move by inertia, fill your days with things to do, so as not to think about how empty everything is inside.

Most of the time, Tyler does not feel anything. No hunger, no thirst, not even the usual anxiety before classes. Only fatigue that falls in the morning and does not let go until the night. And the nights have become real torture for him. The medicine that Betsy gave him no longer helps. Tyler does not sleep again. He just lies on his back, staring at the ceiling, listens to his neighbor's breathing and catches himself thinking that he has long since stopped noticing when it gets dark or light outside the window.

At some point, he carefully gets out of bed, trying not to wake Alex, his neighbor. He seems like a good guy. They get along well, but this is not enough to call each other friends. Just acquaintances, just two people sharing a room.

Tyler steps outside. The night air is cold, damp, and instantly chills him to the bone, making him shiver. He hopes that walking will help, but quickly realizes that he was wrong. Everything feels even more alien and empty. There is no point in staying here any longer. He goes back to the dorm. The bedroom is too dark and too lonely, and that only makes it worse. Tyler locks himself in the bathroom, sits on the edge of the cold bathtub, and clutches his phone. He wants to call. He wants to hear Neil and Andrew's voices. He wants to say:

"Please take me away. I can't cope. I'm not okay here."

He wants to hide in his house, crawl into a warm bed, feel someone pull the blanket over him and tell him everything will be okay. He wants to be a kid again, just for a little while.

But Tyler doesn't call.

He clenches his jaw and clutches the pendant around his neck. The metal is cold and searingly real after the walk. He promised himself he could do this. He promised them he could do this. He has to do this.

Tyler can't.

Tyler suffers for a few more weeks. The fatigue becomes something familiar and constant, almost inseparable from himself. He lives in this state, as if moving in water slowly, as if any movement requires incredible effort. He no longer feels when night comes, and when morning. Time has become something blurry and indistinct. He simply exists, doing what he must. Week after week, he drags himself forward, clinging to the familiar rhythm classes, notes, practical work. He does not remember the last time he ate normally or drank coffee not because he needed to perk up, but because he wanted to. He does not remember the last time he sincerely felt something other than fatigue. He still answers questions from his professors, still brings home assignments on time, but something has changed. His notes are sloppy, his lines are jumping, his drawings are less precise. He finds himself unable to concentrate on lectures: the professor's words are jumbled, and the meaning is elusive. And it doesn't go unnoticed. Those who sit next to him in lectures notice his empty gaze. They notice how he rubs his face with his palms, trying to drive away the sleepiness. How he endlessly flips through the pages, but does not write down a word.

"Ty, are you okay?" asks his deskmate, May.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

His voice is even, but too tired.

"Dude, do you even sleep?"

"I do."

"Less than five hours a night is not sleep."

Tyler just shrugs. He would love to sleep more. But it doesn't work out. She frowns, but doesn't insist.

In one of the practical classes, he sits over a drawing, mechanically moving a pencil across the drawing paper, but doesn't notice what he's doing. Only when the teacher stops by his desk does he realize that he's been drawing the same line for several minutes in a row.

"Josten-Minyard?"

The voice is stern, but there's something else in it. Tyler winces, straightens up, and quickly puts down his pencil.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you all right? You don't look like a man who's paying attention to a lecture."

For a second, Tyler doesn't know what to say. His mind races, but he knows that if he tries to lie now, the teacher will see through it.

"I’m just tired."

"Tired? Burned out you mean?"

The question hits him harder than he expected. Tyler wants to say that everything is fine, that he just didn’t get enough sleep. But he stays silent, because for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t know what lie to tell. The professor looks at him for a few more seconds, then nods.

"Rest, Josten-Minyard. You need it."

But Tyler can’t rest. Because if he stops, even for a second, he’ll collapse. His roommate, Alex, is also looking at him with obvious concern.

"Hey, Ty, you okay, dude?"

Alex stops by his desk, studying his face thoughtfully.

"You look like…"

"I’ve been writing notes all night."

Tyler doesn't look up from his laptop, absentmindedly fiddling with his necklace.

"Again?"

Alex leans against the cabinet, crossing his arms.

"It feels like you're in pre-med instead of architecture."

Tyler doesn't respond to that. What difference does it make? If he says everything's fine, Alex won't believe him anyway. If he tells the truth, it won't change anything either. It's not just his neighbor he's lying to. Tyler lies to his parents. Every time he calls Neil or Andrew and answers in a calm, confident voice that makes him feel uneasy.

"Ty? How's college? Have you made any friends?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Don't drink too much at parties."

Tyler laughs, even though he doesn't really go out. He just doesn't have the energy. He's too tired to even think about noisy companies. And sometimes he wants to say something else. He wants to admit that he's having a hard time, that he can't sleep, that he feels terrible.

"I..."

But at that moment the younger children burst into the room, and the serious conversation fades into the background. They ask him about the room, about his classes, demand that he tell them something interesting, ask a thousand questions, as if they are afraid to miss even one detail.

"When are you coming home?"

One of them asks, and Tyler doesn't know what to answer. He waits for the right moment. Waits for the conversation to go back on track, but then he hears.

"We are proud of you."

And Tyler is silent. He says nothing more. Tyler says goodbye to his parents, puts the phone on the nightstand and slowly walks to the bathroom. He closes the door with the latch and turns on the light. His reflection in the mirror looks... terrible. His eyes are red, and the dark circles under them make his face paler than it really is.

"Damn it..."

Ty turns on the tap and splashes icy water on his face. Drops of water run down his cheeks and down his collar. He leans against the sink, closes his eyes, and inhales deeply.

"Just calm down."

But his breathing is ragged, and his fingers are shaking. And then his gaze catches on the razor. Old, metal, and perfectly sharp. Tyler freezes.

"No."

He says it out loud, quietly but firmly. He knows what scars his father hides under his clothes. He knows why they are there. He knows that this is how he numbs his pain. And he knows that this is not the answer.

"No, I shouldn't..."

But his hand is already reaching for it. He doesn't think. He just takes the razor, brings it to his forearm, so that the cut can be hidden. A slight movement, and a thin line of red on his skin, searing him with a short, sharp pain. Tyler winces, bites his lip. But... he's distracted. All the worries, all the heaviness, all that weird, oppressive feeling of emptiness is gone. Now there's only this pain. Like when you accidentally cut yourself with a paper cut, and all you can think about all day is that spot. Tyler looks down at the scratch, his fingers tightening.

But one cut is too little. Tyler gets bolder and makes another. This time deeper and longer.

...

Tyler tries not to get carried away. He tells himself that it's under control. That he only does this when it gets too hard. When the pain inside him becomes unbearable, when his head is buzzing with fatigue, and his body feels too heavy to even get out of bed. On days like these, he just tells Alex he's sick and wraps himself in a blanket, waiting for his roommate to go to class. Then he gets up and goes to the bathroom, locking the door. Under the bathtub, taped to the pipes, is a razor blade. Tyler takes it out, twirls it in his fingers, and presses it to his skin experimentally. A few short, quick movements.

Fuck.

Tyler breathes heavily, watching the thin lines turn red, turning into drops. The pain... it's short and sharp, but it's there. But over time, Tyler realizes that small cuts are not enough. They heal too quickly, remain unnoticed, and soon he begins to cut deeper. Each time, a little more, a little deeper. One day, he looks at his forearms in the mirror and freezes.
There is no longer an empty space there: everything is covered in healed scratches turning into scars and fresh cuts covered with bandages.

Fuck.

Tyler clenches his fists. He tries not to touch his wrists—too obvious, too much risk of getting caught. So he pulls up his pants. The first cuts on his legs feel weird, but he tells himself it’s helping. Tyler picks a spot on his thigh, somewhere where they won’t show in his trunks or shorts. This goes on for so long that it soon doesn’t help Tyler anymore. The cuts get deeper and more frequent on his skin. So he doesn’t notice when he’s gone too far.

That day, he feels worse than usual. Worse than ever. Tyler locks himself in the bathroom, moves down his arm, closer to his elbow. The blade slides across the skin, leaving a long, deep line.

"Ouch."

Tyler freezes, staring at his arm in shock—too much blood. But he soon realizes with relief that the cut isn’t dangerous. Just deeper. Just more blood than usual. Only then does a dangerous thought pop into his head.

What if?

Tyler washes away the blood, puts the blade back in, and bandages it. But the thought doesn't go away. It stays with him. Why not? His brothers are safe. And he can just break free, right? Tyler is too tired. Too, too tired. Life is too hard. He's only a freshman, and he's already failing.

So why not?

The thought doesn't go away, doesn't weaken, doesn't let him breathe. It seeps into every corner of his mind, weaving itself into his everyday life and becoming a part of him. Tyler can't remember the last time he looked at something and didn't think about it. In lectures, he runs his pen across the paper, absentmindedly draws lines in the margins, sketches meaningless things, but his mind is not on blueprints, or calculations, or architectural concepts. Tyler can listen to the teacher's words, he can even answer, but all this happens mechanically, in the background, as if reality is blurred, and in front of him there is only this thought.

What if?

At lunch, Tyler eats not because he is hungry, but because he has to. He hears conversations, someone talking about a party, someone complaining about the difficulty of the assignment, someone laughing so sincerely, so loudly that it even grates on the ear. Tyler smiles in response to random glances, pretends that he is there too, but this is no longer the case.

He calls his parents, listens to their voices, answers exactly as they expect to hear. Tyler lies without hesitation, because he can't do otherwise. He can't bother them. He can't tell the truth. He can't show how bad he is. But this thought still remains. It is like a radio that cannot be turned off.

And on Friday night, when the room is finally empty, when Alex is gone, when there is no reason to wait any longer, Tyler gets up and goes to the bathroom and knows that the moment has come. He doesn't turn on the light. Only the sound of the water in the pipes fills the room, dull and steady and almost soothing. His hands are shaking. His heart is pounding somewhere in his throat, but Tyler still takes a step forward, lowers himself onto the edge of the tub, pulls the hidden blade from under the pipe and clasps it in his fingers. The metal is cold, thin and, as always, perfectly sharp.

He will do it.

The blade touches his skin, slides down, and a hot, cutting pain shoots up his arm.

"Fuck..."

Air gets stuck in his lungs, his fingers squeeze the edge of the sink.

Blood. So much. Too much.

It runs down his wrist, drips into the sink, leaving scarlet streaks on the white porcelain. Tyler watches it with some kind of detached calm, as if he were watching it from the outside, as if it were not his hand, not his body, not his blood. Tyler feels a tremor run through his entire body, as his vision becomes blurry, as each movement becomes more and more difficult for him.

Maybe this is how it should be?

It is at this moment, when the darkness is already beginning to envelop his consciousness, that the phone rings in his pocket, sharply, loudly and deafeningly. Tyler twitches, inhales sharply, mechanically reaches for the cell phone, slipping from his weakened fingers.

Papa.

His breathing is ragged, and everything inside him contracts into a lump. Tyler looks at the screen, at the flickering name, at the warm, familiar light of the screen in the semi-darkness of the bathroom. He cannot answer. But he can't ignore the call either. If Tyler doesn't pick up, if he just lets this call go unanswered, Neil will blame himself. The thought pierces him sharper than the blade still clenched in his bloody fingers. Tyler blinks, feeling his eyelids grow heavy, a nasty hum in his head, and a wave of panic rising somewhere inside him. The phone continues to vibrate, the light from the screen cutting through the dimness of the bathroom. Tyler squeezes his fingers, pressing his palm harder against the still bleeding cut, and, with a convulsive breath, presses the answer button.

"Hello?"

His voice sounds too quiet, almost inaudible, breaking into a hoarse whisper. There's silence on the other end of the line, and then a relieved exhale, heavy and broken, like someone who's been holding their breath for too long is finally able to inhale.

"You answered... Oh, my God."

Neil's breathing is rapid and shallow. There's too much emotion in it, and Tyler winces, feeling something twist and turn in his chest.

"Papa..."

"I... You can laugh at me, but I had a bad feeling about this. Like that time…"

Tyler doesn’t need to clarify what he’s talking about. He knows. Neil had it, too, the night Tyler was raped. A chill runs through his body, like the memory is suddenly alive and clawing at him with new force. Tyler squeezes his fingers, forces himself to exhale, and looks down at his hand, which is still dripping with blood.

"Papa…"

"So I’m glad you’re fine."

Tyler doesn’t answer because he’s not fine. He’s silent, and his body feels heavier, like it’s losing its strength, like it’s just going to pass out.

"You’re fine, Ty?"

Tyler opens his mouth, but his tongue feels stuck to the roof of his mouth. The words just won’t come.

"I…"

He stutters, and that’s enough. Neil's paranoia is getting the better of him.

"Ty, don't be silent."

His voice is getting harder, this scary note in it that makes him feel uneasy even over the phone.

"Tyler."

Tyler squeezes his eyes shut, shame filling his chest. He shouldn't have answered. But then again, he shouldn't have kept quiet.

It's getting harder to stay conscious.

"Tyler! What's going on?!"

Neil's voice is loud, panicked, and it's making Tyler feel even worse. He can't hold back a sob. His throat is tight, his vision is dark, and he almost drops the phone from his weakened fingers.

"I'm... I'm so sorry..."

His voice is shaking, too quiet, too broken, too... doomed.

"So sorry, Papa… There was an accident…"

"Ty…"

Neil calls his name again, but Tyler can barely hear it. His ears are ringing, his heart is slowing, and his whole body is numb.

"I didn’t mean to… I don’t know why… Why did I do it… I didn’t mean to…"

"What did you do?!"

Neil’s voice sounds almost like a scream, but Tyler can’t answer him.

"Papa, I…"

He tries to finish the sentence, tries to say something that will explain all this, but the words are lost, his breath is ragged, and the world starts to swim before his eyes. And then his whole body becomes weightless. The floor disappears under his feet, and Tyler falls. A dull thud fills the room, echoing in the walls, in his ears, in his temples. The phone falls next to him, the screen still glowing, and Neil’s voice now sounds somewhere far away, as if through water.

"Ty?! Tyler! Answer me!"

Tyler hears him, but he can't answer. His lips won't obey, his eyelids are too heavy, his thoughts are drowning in a dark, thick, engulfing wave.

"Andrew!"

Tyler closes his eyes. And in his last glimmer of consciousness, he regrets not calling them sooner.

Chapter Text

"Andrew!"

Neil screams, but his voice is cracking, his heart pounding in his ears, drowning out everything else. He says Tyler's name over and over, begging him to answer, but there's only silence.

Silence is the worst.

"Papa?"

Neil turns around abruptly. Chris is standing on the stairs, his brow furrowed, his eyes filled with intense worry.

"What happened?"

Neil's voice is wary, and he immediately turns pale, as if he senses something is wrong.

"Is something wrong with Ty?"

Neil can't get a grip on himself. He can't hide the panic in his voice. He feels everything inside him tighten into a painful lump, a cold fear running down his spine.

He can't let the worst thoughts come to mind. He can't let the panic take over.

But an icy dread is already rising inside him. What if he didn't make it in time? What if Tyler is alone, somewhere in his room, unconscious… or worse? What if he’s dying right now, and they’re here and there’s nothing they can do?

Neil clenches his fists, trying to stop the swarm of thoughts, to focus. Tyler needs him. No matter what happens, he has to stay calm for him.

"Chris, get your dad! Now!"

Chris’s head snaps up, his eyes wide, but he takes off without asking any questions. Neil feels himself shaking. The worst-case scenarios flash through his head, each more terrifying than the last.

He already knows what’s happened, but he doesn’t want to believe it. He can’t believe it.

"Ty!"

His voice is too loud, too desperate.

"Come on, answer me!"

But there’s no answer, and Neil can’t wait. He can’t risk it. He has to think fast, because everything depends on his decision now. He closes his eyes, hangs up, and dials the familiar number with trembling fingers.

"911, what's wrong with you?"

The female voice on the other end of the line is calm and collected. The complete opposite of his own current state.

"I…"

The voice is treacherous, but Neil forces himself to speak clearly.

"I think something's wrong with my son. He said there was some kind of accident, and now he won't answer me…"

"Got it. Do you know where he is?"

"Yes, I think so."

Neil quickly recites the address of the dorm, hoping with all his heart that Tyler is there. Hoping it's not too late. That whatever happened, he can still be saved.

After speaking with the dispatcher, he immediately finds another number. The dorm. The beeps drag on endlessly until someone finally answers.

"I need someone to check Tyler Josten-Minyard's room right away."

"Sir, what's wrong?"

"I'm his father. And he may be hurt."

Silence on the other end of the line, then a quick movement.

"I'll send someone over right now."

Neil abruptly ends the call, just as he hears quick footsteps. Andrew is coming down the stairs, frowning, his eyes sharp and demanding.

"What's wrong?"

Behind him, the three younger children, scared and tense.
Neil shakes his head. They can't hear this. They can't know.

"We need to get to Tyler."

Andrew tenses instantly, barely meeting Neil's gaze. He sees everything at once.
Neil's eyes, filled with absolute terror. His hands, clutching the phone as if someone's life depended on it. And his breathing, ragged and shallow, too loud in the tense silence.

Something's happened. Something serious. Andrew turns sharply to the kids, thinking. Aaron's at a conference. And he wouldn't trust Kevin with his kids, at least not three at once. He'd probably have Kevin and Valerie stuck in his backyard all night, throwing a ball around while the twins wrecked everything. Not an option.

"We're going to Nicky's, everyone in the car."

"But I need to get—"

Jim starts, frowning and stepping up.

"Into the car!"

Neil's scream cuts through the air, and he's the first one out the door. His sneakers are untied, but he ignores them, jumping into the front seat as if that will speed up their exit. Andrew watches him go, nodding at the kids.

"Now."

The kids freeze, looking at each other warily. Neil doesn't usually yell at them. He doesn't usually shake like he's afraid the world is about to end right before his eyes.

Jim gets into the car, frowning. Chris bites his lip and shakes his leg slightly, the way he always does when he's worried. Vi squeezes between her brothers, clutching her toy to her chest.

"Papa?"

Her voice is thin, tense, almost pleading. Neil doesn't hear her right away. He counts the beeps. Precious seconds slipping through his fingers.

"Papa?"

Valerie calls again, a little louder this time. Neil's hands are shaking as he clutches the phone.

"I'm scared."

Vi sobs, barely audible, but enough for Jim to put his arm around her shoulders in a comforting gesture.

Neil opens his mouth to say something to calm her down, but then closes it. He doesn't know what to say.

"We'll figure this out, okay?"

His voice is low and a little strained.

"I just need you to stay with Uncle Nicky for a while. Okay? You don't have to be scared. We'll take care of everything."

"But is Tyler okay?"

Chris asks hesitantly, also clutching Vi's hand. Neil swallows hard.

"We’ll figure it out," he repeats, avoiding the question.

Neil turns away, avoiding Andrew’s gaze, and looks only at the road. When he lifts the phone to his ear again, the silence on the other end of the line is sharper than a knife. Dead silence. Neil is truly scared - he’s afraid for his son’s life.

He knew something was wrong. He knew it just like he knew it that day, three years ago. The same icy feeling running down his spine. The same painful stab in his heart that takes his breath away.

The same vague but inexorable knowledge: something has happened.

When he pressed call and Tyler picked up, Neil felt the greatest relief in his life. But only for a moment. Tyler’s voice was different than usual - quiet and broken. And the words were slurred and garbled, like he was having trouble getting them out. And then Tyler started crying, and in that moment Neil knew. He knew, and the world around him shook, shrank into a tiny dot, falling apart. No.
No, this couldn't happen to his child.

As soon as the younger children were outside Nicky's house, Andrew turned sharply to Neil. His gaze was hard and piercing.

"What happened?"

"I think Tyler is in danger."

Neil doesn't say what he suspects, afraid that if he says it out loud it will somehow become true, but Andrew knows it. He can read it in everything: in his frozen face, in his fingers clenching painfully, in his eyes filled with panic.

"I already called the ambulance and the dorm," Neil says with difficulty, as if that would make any difference.

Andrew nods sharply and puts the gas pedal to the floor. They speed toward Tyler’s university.

"I hung up, and now Tyler’s not answering."

Neil barely has time to finish, his voice empty, colorless.

"Call again."

Andrew grips the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Neil exhales, dialing again and hearing only the long beeps. Long, relentless beeps.

Please, let them not to be too late.

...

Tyler’s in the hospital.

Neil’s millionth call was finally answered, but it wasn’t Tyler. The EMT, his voice smooth and professional, didn’t elaborate. He said only the most important things: where their son was taken, and that he was still alive.

Still.

Andrew steps on the gas, breaking every possible traffic law. The silence in the car is deafening. All you can hear is their heavy breathing, only the rhythmic pounding of their hearts, echoing in their temples.

What happened?

Why is their Tyler in the hospital?

Why?

After everything he's been through... What happened?

Andrew parks abruptly, the wheels screeching on the asphalt. They fly out of the car. Neil rushes to the reception desk, knocking someone in his way with his shoulder.

"Tyler Josten-Minyard!"

The girl behind the counter flinches and looks up at him in surprise.

"Tyler Josten-Minyard!"

Neil repeats louder, almost shouting.

"What's wrong with him?!"

Neil almost growls, looming over the counter.

"Sir, please calm down…"

She raises her hands as if trying to reason with him, but Neil doesn’t care. He’s wound up to the limit, his nerves on edge, his chest burning with rage and fear, intertwined.

"Find me information on my child or I’ll destroy this place!"

The girl’s eyes widen. Her fingers tremble as she hurries to check the data on the computer, but she doesn’t have time to say anything. There’s a cough behind her. Neil spins around, as does Andrew. In front of them stands a man in a white coat. Glasses, graying hair at the temples, and a tired look - a strange mixture of sympathy and professional detachment.

"Are you here to see Tyler?"

Andrew doesn’t care about any propriety.

"What’s wrong with him?!"

The doctor stares at them for a moment, then looks around.

"Come with me. I’ll walk you and explain everything."

They follow the doctor down the white hallways. Andrew wants to puke: the smell, the sterile walls, the memories. He hated places like this for what they did to him. But now his pain is nothing. Now he walks here as a father.

Andrew remembers Tyler, three years ago, with a split lip, squeezing his hand while the doctor inspected the bruises. Jim, in tears, with a nail through his foot, shaking with pain. Chris, whom he’d taken to the emergency room countless times, sometimes with a broken knee, sometimes with a dislocated wrist. And Valerie, who was sick.

Being a parent is scary. Andrew has experienced it firsthand. But being a parent who doesn't know why their son is in the hospital is a million times worse.

The door closes behind them, cutting off the noise of the hospital. The doctor looks right at them.

"Tell me, did Tyler often think about suicide?"

"What?"

Neil shakes his head. Andrew freezes, thinking that knowledge would bring relief. He was wrong.

"I don't see what this has to do with…"

Neil begins, but freezes mid-sentence, clenching his hands into fists.

"He what?"

The doctor sighs heavily.

"He's not conscious yet, so we can't say for sure. But… did you know your son cuts himself?"

These words hit Andrew like a hot iron, and all his scars immediately flare up with phantom pain. They burn, burning through his body to the very bones.

Tyler cuts himself.

Tyler cuts himself.

Tyler cuts himself.

They thought they were good parents. They gave him space, they supported him, they didn't push him. They guided him, they didn't demand. And Andrew believed they were doing it. Idiot.

"What?"

Neil's voice breaks. He's as pale as death. All the fears he'd pushed away were true. Their son had hurt himself.

The doctor's expression doesn't change. Either he doesn't notice their shock, or he's professionally pretending not to notice.

"Wasn't he depressed? Eating and sleeping regularly? Maybe he'd been restless and restless lately?"

The doctor lists the symptoms, and Neil realizes with horror that he doesn't know.

"He called us a lot..."

His voice trembles, but he forces himself to speak.

"He seemed normal. Everything was... as usual."

Andrew nods in affirmation, but his mind is racing, replaying their last conversations, questioning every word.

Were there signs?

Was Tyler eating or skipping meals?

Was he sleeping or struggling with insomnia?

What was going on with their son when they were just a few hours away?

Why couldn't Andrew protect him?

Andrew and Neil sit next to each other, holding hands. The chairs are hard and cold, the corners digging into his back, but it's nothing compared to the pain that's tearing Andrew apart inside. People come and go: doctors in white coats, nurses with folders, and worried-faced relatives of patients. But they stay. They wait.

Andrew doesn't know how much time has passed. Minutes? Hours? He doesn't understand what they did wrong.

What he did wrong.

He shouldn't have let Tyler go.

You shouldn't have let him live alone.

You shouldn't have...

Andrew doesn't know what.

"Andrew..."

Neil's voice is quiet, careful.

"Not now."

Andrew shakes his head, staring into space. Not now, Neil. Don't touch me. Don't try to comfort me. You can't undo what's already happened.

His chest tightens as if someone is pressing his ribs inward, preventing him from breathing. He clasps his fingers together, trying to hold on somehow, but his hands are shaking. He can feel the tension in them, feel the nails digging into his skin, leaving crescents on his palms.

"Andrew, it's not your fault."

Neil says it firmly, but not accusingly. There's no accusation in his voice, only understanding and pain, divided in half.

"Neil."

Andrew shakes his head, as if pushing the words away, as if not letting them penetrate him, not letting them soften his furious, all-consuming self-flagellation. His voice is harsher than he intended, but he can’t help it.

"Not now."

Neil clenches his teeth so hard that veins stand out in his cheekbones. He stares at him, hard, as if trying to break through this cocoon of guilt Andrew has trapped himself in.

"When? They’re—"

"Right now, Tyler is being stitched up for the vein he cut."

Andrew’s voice breaks.

"His arms and legs are all cut up so badly, there’s no room left. And I—I didn’t notice."

"Andrew, that’s not fair."

"I know what it is."

Andrew tries to breathe evenly, but his chest is tight.

"I know the signs. And I didn’t understand."

"Neither did I."

Neil speaks calmly, but his eyes reflect the same pain Andrew is feeling.

"Because Ty didn’t want us to understand."

"He did."

Andrew squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing his hands across his face as if to wipe away the pain, but it remains, burning inside him.

"What?"

"He wanted us to understand. I did."

Neil pauses, then speaks softly.

"He’s not you. Understand that, Andrew. He’s not you."

Andrew slowly lowers his hands, wiping his reddened eyes with his palm.

"We need Betsy."

"Okay."

Neil nods in agreement, but before he can say anything, the sound of hurried footsteps interrupts their conversation. They both look up at the same time, and Andrew’s heart sinks into his heels.

The nurse hurries toward them, her face tense, but there’s no panic in her eyes. Andrew doesn't even notice how he gets to his feet, how he clenches his fists, expecting the worst.

His world freezes until she says the words she's been waiting for:

"He's okay."

Andrew and Neil sigh at the same time, a long, broken breath of relief and fear.

"He's still asleep, but you can see him."

They don't hesitate for a second. Andrew is the first to bolt, Neil right behind him. Their footsteps echo loudly in the empty hallway.

When Andrew bursts into the room, he freezes in the doorway as if an invisible wall hits him, the sight that he sees makes his heart stop for a moment. Tyler looks deathly pale on the white bed. So still, small and defenseless. Andrew sees the snow-white bandage covering the wound, but not the rest. Tyler is wearing a hospital T-shirt, Andrew looks at his arms, covered with scars, and his insides twist into knots. Andrew feels like his whole world is crumbling and turning into fine ash. He can’t stop the ragged breath that escapes him at the sight of his son.

Neil comes closer, passes Andrew’s frozen form and sits down next to Tyler. He doesn’t hesitate, taking his hand, not wrapped in bandages.

"He’s warm."

Neil whispers with relief, rubbing his son’s thin fingers. He was afraid it would be cold, but the warmth gives him hope. Neil strokes his wrist, counting his pulse.

"Andrew, come here," Neil calls, barely above a whisper.

Andrew staggers, wills his legs forward to walk toward his husband and unconscious son. He sits up on the other side of the bed, his hands shaking as he takes his son’s hand in his.

This is his reality now. Andrew can’t quite wrap his head around it.

Tyler—their Ty—slit his wrists. His son tried to commit suicide.

How? Why?

What horror and pain did he endure to do this?

How many times had he suffered alone?

How many nights had he cried into his pillow?

How could they not notice?

Andrew squeezes Tyler’s hand, as if it would keep him in this world.

Oh, God, what would they do if Ty had died?

...

Tyler comes to slowly, as if he were making his way through a thick fog, and the first thing he is aware of is pain. Not sharp, but dull, pulling and spreading from somewhere from his wrist throughout his body. His eyes are heavy, his eyelids are sticking together, but he still forces himself to open them and immediately regrets it.

The ceiling, the walls, the light breaking through the blinds - everything around is white. The air is saturated with a sharp smell of antiseptic, sterility and something else that Tyler cannot yet identify, but already hates. He does not immediately understand where he is, but when the realization comes, panic rises in his throat. He is alive.

Why is he alive?

His fingers convulsively squeeze the sheet, his breath is ragged, and a suffocating, sticky fear rises in his chest.

"Hey, Ty. Hi."

Tyler jumps, his head snapping around too quickly, and his gaze immediately lands on a familiar face. Neil is sitting next to him, tired, haggard, with bloodshot eyes. He’s looking at him in a way that makes Tyler want to close his eyes again and pretend he’s not there.

"Papa? Are you there?"

"Of course I’m here."

Neil takes his hand, and Tyler can’t help but shudder. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve his father holding his hand and looking at him with such concern. He doesn’t deserve his attention after what he did.

Tyler feels panic rising in his chest, a lump forming in his throat, and he tries to think of something to explain and justify.

"I… I accidentally cut myself."

The silence that follows his words is unbearable. Neil doesn't blink, doesn't move, just stares at him and shakes his head slowly.

"Don't lie to a liar."

There's no anger in his voice, only weariness and pain. Shame washes over Tyler, spreading through his body like a wave of heat, and he wants to disappear again, dissolve, fall into oblivion, just not to see that look. Just not to realize that he let down those who loved him most. But Neil doesn't take his hand away. He stays close.

Tyler swallows, feeling his throat go dry and his tongue go soft. He tries to find the words, but all that comes out is a quiet, weakened voice.

"Papa…"

The voice sounds hoarse, barely audible, but Neil immediately leans closer, as if afraid to miss a word. Tyler takes a shaky breath, preparing to say something else, but Neil shakes his head and interrupts him gently but firmly.

"Shhh, not now, okay? Just rest."

Tyler’s eyes are starting to water, but he stubbornly blinks them away. His eyelids are burning, but he doesn’t want to cry, doesn’t want to show his weakness. He’s failed them already.

"I…"

His voice is betraying him, and Tyler feels his fingers tightening around his father’s hand, as if his strength is finally leaving him.

"I’m here."

Neil doesn’t let go. His hand is warm, strong, real.

"Go back to sleep. When you wake up, I’ll still be here."

Neil doesn’t promise, he just says it as a fact, and Tyler believes him. He closes his eyes, letting the weariness wash over him, letting the warmth of his father's hand hold him in this world.

...

When Tyler wakes up again, the first thing he sees is Neil, still sitting in the same position. He's still here, just like he promised.

The door to the room swings open, and Tyler barely has time to blink before he sees a figure in the doorway. His vision goes dark for a moment, but he still recognizes him immediately.

"Dad..."

Tyler breathes out more out of inertia than consciously. Andrew crosses the room quickly and sits down next to him, but he doesn’t touch him. Tyler notices this and feels a strange, suffocating mixture of relief and shame.

He looks down at his hands, lying on top of the blanket. He’s wearing a short hospital T-shirt, and in that moment, Tyler realizes he’s in trouble. He can’t hide anything anymore.

"Did you see…?"

His voice is quieter than Ty intended. He’s not sure why he’s asking; the answer is obvious.

"You mean turning your arms and legs into a bloody mess?"

Andrew’s voice is even, but Tyler can feel the fear lurking beneath the composed exterior. He doesn’t even have to look up to know his father is watching him.

"I didn’t mean to…"

Ty squeezes his eyes shut, wishing the ground would swallow him.

"You did."

Andrew says it calmly, but Tyler feels his heart tighten.

"I don’t know why I did it…"

He really doesn’t know. At the time, he felt like there was no way out, like this was the only way to stop it all, but now, sitting here with bandages on his wrist, his parents’ heavy gaze on him, he can’t understand how he got to this point.

"We’ll figure it out, Ty."

Neil’s voice softens a little. He takes a breath before continuing.

"You’re going to talk to Betsy first."

Tyler swallows. He doesn’t want to talk to Betsy. He doesn’t want to discuss it. He doesn’t want to go through that day in his head again. But looking at Andrew, he knows he has no choice.

...

Tyler sits across from Betsy, staring at the floor. He doesn’t want to be here.

"Ty," Betsy calls softly.

He looks up. There’s no judgment in her eyes, only attentiveness and calm. Tyler feels a resistance rise up inside him, the part of him that’s used to coping alone, the part that tells him he should just shut up and get through this on his own. But he’s so tired.

"What are you thinking about right now?"

Betsy asks. Tyler swallows, curling his fingers in his lap.

"That I couldn’t handle it," he finally manages.

Betsy stays silent, giving him time. Tyler exhales sharply, covering his face with his hands.

"Fuck…"

His voice is shaking, anger and exhaustion mixing into something painful.

"I felt bad. Really bad. I… I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I felt like another day and…"

He trails off, unable to finish.

"And what?"

Betsy asks quietly. Tyler shakes his head.

"I thought I’d just… disappear. It’s like I’m not there anymore."

The room is silent. Betsy looks at him carefully, but she doesn’t push or hurry him.

"Was it scary?"

She asks. Tyler nods slowly.

"Very."

Betsy tilts her head for a moment, as if considering his words. She looks at him carefully, but her expression is soft, not pushing.

"What did you want?"

She asks quietly. Tyler blinks, feeling his eyes sting. He quickly wipes a tear from his cheek and shrugs.

"I don’t know," his voice is hoarse, muffled. "I just… wanted it to be over."

Betsy doesn’t take her eyes off him.

"What?"

Tyler closes his eyes and bites his lip, as if trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

"Everything," he breathes out. "This… this feeling. The endless exhaustion. The emptiness. Like every day is just something I have to live through, and I can’t even breathe."

He takes a shuddering breath, but his chest feels heavy.

"And then I thought if it all just stopped… if I stopped existing… it would be easier."

Somewhere deep inside, he waits for Betsy to say something harsh. For her to judge him, or worse, pity him. But she does neither.

"Thank you for telling me that, Ty," she says calmly.

Tyler blinks sharply, unsure how to respond to that.

"I…"

He falters, running his hand over his face again.

"I don’t know what to do."

Betsy nods slightly.

"We’ll take this one step at a time. You don’t have to do it alone."

Betsy confirms their worst fears. Depression. Tyler is being put on medication, and he feels like he’s cornered.

"What now?"

His voice sounds alien.

"You’re going to be here for a few days now, under observation."

Neil sits next to him, his fingers shaking slightly as he brushes Tyler’s hair out of his face.

"And we’ll be here, Ty. Always."

Tyler nods, but doesn’t say anything.

He knows they’ll be watching him. He can feel it now. There’s always someone in the room—if it’s not Andrew, it’s Neil. They don’t leave him alone. And Tyler understands why. He knows they haven’t forgotten. The image of that day is burned into their minds, just like it is into his own. They almost lost him. Almost.

...

The day Tyler is discharged feels strange. It’s as if he’s been here not just a few days, but a lifetime, and now, as he walks out the hospital doors, he leaves behind the version of himself that’s broken. But the fear doesn’t go away. It’s still there, somewhere inside, hiding in the shadows of his thoughts, whispering that he might break down, that all of this is temporary.

When the nurse finally returns with the paperwork, Andrew takes it and turns to Tyler. His eyes are hard, brooking no argument.

"We’re taking you home."

Tyler exhales, his shoulders slumping. He wants to say he’s glad, but his emotions are warring. He’s still not sure he’s worth it—a home, a family, a second chance.

"I can do this," he says, trying to convince both himself and them. "I can do this."

Andrew looks right at him.

"I know you were scared," Tyler continues. "That I scared you. But don’t make me crazy. I want to stay."

"No," Andrew says firmly, without even thinking.

"Dad…"

Tyler steps forward, looking into his eyes pleadingly.

"I said no."

Andrew’s voice is unyielding. He was always like this—unyielding, hard, but Tyler had never heard so much pain in his voice. Tyler presses his lips together, feeling his fingers tremble. Then there’s a knock on the door of the room.

"Knock, knock, can I come in?"

Aaron’s voice is calm as he walks into the room without waiting for permission.

Andrew turns around, surprised.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ty called me."

Neil immediately looks at Tyler, surprised and impressed.

"Why?"

"So I can talk to you," Aaron says, nodding to Neil and Tyler to leave.

Neil raises his eyebrows at Tyler, as if he’s never seen him before.

"Are you serious?"

He asks as they leave the room. Tyler rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair.

"I needed the support," he chuckles tiredly. "Did you see the look in his eyes? I swear he would have knocked me out."

Neil snorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I guess so."

...

Once Neil and Tyler disappear through the door, Andrew stands there, tense as a taut string. He watches them until their footsteps fade into the hallway, then slowly looks down at his hands.

His fingers are clenched, the white knuckles betraying rage, but there’s too much pain in that rage. He takes a deep breath, but it’s not enough air, and his lungs feel like they’re not working.

"He almost died," Andrew says, his voice hoarse, like it’s breaking.

"I know," Aaron says calmly, watching him.

"A little more, and he could have…"

Andrew stops abruptly, as if he can’t say the word. His jaw clenches, and he looks away, trying to compose himself.

"I know."

Aaron repeats, his voice even but sympathetic.

"Aaron, we could have lost him."

Andrew’s voice breaks slightly, and he runs a hand over his face in annoyance, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"Andrew, it was a tough time. He screwed up, yes. He didn’t ask for help, but that doesn’t mean he’ll always do that. You have to trust him."

Andrew chuckles bitterly.

"I did that once," he glares at his brother. "And I had to drive two hours to the hospital, not knowing if my son was alive or not."

Aaron sighs, but doesn’t back down.

"If you keep him around, he’ll rebel."

"Fine. As long as he’s alive."

Aaron shakes his head.

"Do you really think so? Andrew, you’ll lose him. Remember what we had. We would have stopped talking if we hadn’t given each other some space."

"What are you suggesting?"

Andrew’s voice is irritated.

"Let him go? Let him cut his wrists and ruin his life?"

"No," Aaron answers calmly. "Take care of him from afar. And let him know that he can always come back."

Andrew is silent. He wants to argue, to say that they are not the same thing.

"He answered the phone," Aaron says. "Didn’t he? When Neil called him, he answered."

Andrew exhales slowly, his shoulders sagging, the tension fading, but the fear is still there. He looks toward the door where Tyler disappeared and whispers.

"I’m scared. I don’t want to lose him."

Aaron places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

"It’s out of your hands, Andrew. You’re a good father. Both of you. But you can’t control this."

...

Neil sits across from Tyler, resting his chin on his hand, watching him closely. They’ve been talking for a few minutes now, and Tyler seems to be finally relaxing, but he still looks upset.

"You gave us a real scare," Neil finally says, his voice even but tired.

Tyler swallows, looking down.

"I know," his voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

"He’s really worried about you. We both are," Neil continues.

Tyler clenches his hands into fists, then unclenches them, as if he doesn’t know what to do with his fingers.

"I… I didn’t mean for this to happen," he admits. "I know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t planned. I just… I just couldn’t cope."

Neil nods, giving him space to talk.

"It wasn’t… trying to die. I just didn’t know how to stop it in my head. I felt like everything was falling apart, and I needed… something I could control."

"I know," Neil says softly.

Tyler chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

"I can do it now."

"Ty…"

"Dad," he interrupts, looking up at Neil with a hard look. "I’m on medication now, and I call Betsy every week. I can handle this."

At that moment, the door to the room opens slightly and Andrew and Aaron come out into the hallway. Tyler flinches, as if he’s been caught off guard. He immediately rises to his feet, but Andrew stops him with a look.

"Okay," he says.

Tyler blinks.

"What?"

"Okay," Andrew repeats. "You can stay in the dorm."

Tyler is about to shower him with thanks, but Andrew holds up a hand, stopping him.

"But."

Tyler tenses, expecting a catch.

"You’ll call Betsy twice a week and us every day."

"Dad…"

"Every day, Tyler. Until I can’t picture you holding a razor blade anymore."

Tyler presses his lips together, then exhales and nods. He stands there for a few seconds, as if he's hesitating, but then he steps forward and wraps his arms around Andrew, holding him tightly.

Andrew doesn't move. He doesn't react right away, but when he feels Tyler pressing himself even harder into him, his arms come up, enveloping his son in a silent embrace. He doesn't say a word, just holds him, letting Tyler breathe deeply, feel the warmth, feel like he's not alone.

"Okay. I promise," he breathes, barely audible.

Andrew doesn't answer. But his fingers tighten around his son's back, just a little, and that's enough.

Chapter Text

“Are you here to see Dr. Stone?”

The receptionist asks, barely glancing up at him over her computer. Tyler nods, nervously readjusting the strap of his bag full of textbooks on his shoulder.

“Uh… yeah, I’ve got a two-thirty appointment. Josten-Minyard.”

The woman types quickly, checks his appointment, and nods toward the row of soft chairs by the wall.

“Have a seat, Dr. Stone will be free in a couple minutes.”

“Thanks,” Tyler mumbles.

He sits down awkwardly. One seat over, a guy is already there, absorbed in his phone. Tyler shifts in place, fingers tapping nervously against his knee. His eyes wander over the beige walls, the stack of brochures on the little table, and the slightly unnerving sign on the frosted door: Psychiatric Department.

“First time?” a low, slightly rough voice asks beside him.

Tyler jumps and turns. The guy next to him is watching with a faint half-smile. His light blond hair is messy, clearly in need of a trim. His eyes are strikingly blue, so clear that Tyler feels like he’s staring into cloudless sky.

“What?”

“You’re nervous,” the guy points out, nodding at Tyler’s twitching fingers.

He speaks with an accent Tyler can’t quite place—he rolls his r’s strangely and clips some words short, reminding Tyler a bit of his Uncle Erik’s voice.

“No, I… I mean, yeah…” Tyler stumbles, unsure what to do with his hands.

The guy’s smile widens, revealing two ridiculously charming dimples.

“So, yes or no?” he teases gently.

“I mean yes, I’m nervous. But not my first time in therapy. Just… first time here,” Tyler finally admits, exhaling.

The stranger nods, as if that explains everything. Tyler suddenly realizes he can’t look away from him.

“Dr. Stone’s not bad,” the boy says after a pause. “I’ve been seeing him for almost a year.”

Tyler gives a short nod, trying to keep the conversation alive, even though his chest feels tight.

“I actually already have a therapist, it’s just… my parents insisted I come here too,” he says, forcing his voice to sound even.

The guy whistles softly, raising his brows in interest.

“Two therapists? What the hell did you do?”

Tyler doesn’t smile. Instead, he silently pushes up the sleeve of his black hoodie, showing a long, thin scar that runs from his elbow almost to his wrist. The guy’s gaze flicks over it, but he doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t pity, and doesn’t pretend he didn’t see. He just nods, calm and without judgment. The silence that follows is heavy but not unbearable.

“And you?” Tyler asks finally, pulling his sleeve back down and avoiding eye contact.

The guy shrugs, casual, like he’s about to mention the weather.

“Nothing dramatic. Bipolar. I just come in so they’ll renew my meds.”

“That sucks,” Tyler blurts without thinking.

“Yeah,” the guy smirks and holds out his hand. “I’m Alex.”

Tyler shakes it, surprised by the strength behind such an easy gesture.

“Seriously?” he raises a brow.

“What?”

“Well… it just sounds really American. I thought you’d… never mind,” Tyler mutters, looking away.

“Actually, I’m Alexander,” Alex adds, almost as if justifying himself. “That fit better?”

Tyler tilts his head, holding onto his hand a little longer than politeness allows.

“Like… bears, vodka, and endless Russian forests?”

Alex laughs, and Tyler’s heart stutters at the sound.

“Something like that,” he nods. “And you?”

“Ty.”

“Not too short?”

“I don’t like my full name,” Tyler says flatly, frowning a little.

“Got it,” Alex answers softly.

“Mr. Josten-Minyard?” the receptionist calls, glancing up from her monitor. “Dr. Stone will see you now.”

Alex gives Tyler’s hand one last squeeze before letting go.

“Hope I see you again, Ty,” he says, quieter this time.

Tyler stands, knees trembling, and walks toward the office door, fighting not to look back. But his fingers keep brushing over his palm, still warm from Alex’s touch.

...

He keeps coming to therapy every week, sticking to the rule his dad set so he can stay in the dorms. And to his luck, every single time he finds Alex already there—sitting in his chair, tapping quickly on his phone, only to put it away and smile when he sees Tyler.

At first they exchange only a few awkward words—“How are you?” “Fine,” “Weather’s crazy,” “Classes suck.” Then little by little Tyler feels safer around him. He starts sharing stories about his brothers and sister, his parents, and his big family overall, laughing when Alex runs out of fingers trying to count them all.

“Wait, wait,” Alex stops him, raising a hand and frowning thoughtfully. “So you’ve got two uncles or three? I’m a little lost.”

Tyler snorts and shakes his head.

“Four. Two of them are my dad’s brothers, and the other two were on his college team. Oh, and Uncle Erik—he’s married to Uncle Nicky, so he’s my uncle too.”

Tyler’s smile falters just a little.

“There could’ve been six, but one of them died before my parents graduated. I never met him.”

“I’m sorry.”

Alex squeezes his knee, thumb brushing lightly through denim. When Tyler freezes, Alex quickly pulls back, smiling sheepishly. But Tyler, staring straight into his eyes, puts his hand back.

Alex shares about his own family, who live too far away for him to see often. Tyler loves looking at the photos: a smiling woman with dimples just like Alex’s, and a man with the same kind eyes. Soon Tyler starts showing up earlier and earlier—first a few minutes, then much more—just to spend extra time with Alex. But no matter how early he arrives, Alex is always already there. Tyler starts joking that maybe Alex actually lives in the waiting room.

“It’s so weird, no matter when I come, you’re already here,” Tyler laughs one day, then notices Alex blushing and looking away.

“What?” Tyler grins, nudging him.

Alex shrugs, rubbing the tip of his nose nervously.

“You’ll think I’m weird.”

“We literally met in a psychiatrist’s waiting room. You really think I haven’t figured out you’re a little weird already?” Tyler teases.

Alex laughs awkwardly, running a hand over his face like he’s trying to gather courage.

“Maybe I’m a little weirder than you thought.”

Tyler straightens, no longer smiling.

“Come on. Tell me.”

He bumps Alex’s shoulder with his own, trying to lighten the mood, and Alex quickly blurts out, like he’s afraid he’ll lose his nerve:

“Fine. I asked Jill, and she gave me your schedule.”

Tyler casts a glance at the receptionist, who’s too busy with paperwork to notice them.

“I thought that was illegal?” he says slowly, while his heartbeat thunders in his ears.

He tries not to think about why Alex would do something like that. Why spend all his free time here? For him? Just to steal a few extra minutes together? That’s ridiculous. Ridiculous, right?

“It is,” Alex admits, watching him carefully, as if ready for Tyler to panic and bolt out the door calling the cops.

Maybe a normal person would. But Tyler isn’t like that.

“We’re okay?” Alex asks when Tyler stays silent too long.

“Well… it’s actually kind of romantic,” Tyler says finally.

Alex stares at him in surprise. Tyler blushes furiously, worried he went too far, and snorts.

“I’m a little crazy too, remember?”

Alex’s grin spreads wide, and Tyler looks away, fiddling with the seam of his jeans.

“So does this mean you come here every Wednesday just to see me?” Tyler shoots him a sideways glance.

“And what if I say yes?”

A wave of heat rushes through Tyler, his pulse pounding in his ears. Oh god oh god oh god.

“Maybe next time we could meet somewhere else?” he suggests, licking his dry lips. “I like coffee.”

“I can’t have coffee,” Alex shakes his head. Tyler almost sags in disappointment, but then Alex adds, “But I can have tea.”

“Then we’ll have tea,” Tyler grins in relief. “My dad will thank you for cutting down my caffeine intake.”

Alex winks, reaching out his hand.

“Bonus points before I even meet your parents.”

Tyler flushes, squeezing his hand. Shit. He’s falling in love.

...

Falling in love is such a strange feeling. Tyler has no idea how to act or what to say. He’d already resigned himself to being alone forever. And yet here he is—lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, dreaming about another boy.

He sighs heavily, rolling onto his side and hugging a pillow to his chest. He doesn’t know what to do. The only idea he has is to call the one person who always knows the right thing to say. He hesitates, glances at the clock, then finally presses the call button.

“Hello? Ty?”

The voice on the other end is sleepy but alert, and Tyler is instantly wrapped in homesickness. He misses him so much.

“Hey, Dad. I’m fine.”

His father sighs, sounding relieved. There’s rustling in the background, then footsteps, like he’s left the bedroom. Tyler remembers his other dad has a game soon—the one he promised to watch with Alex—and he must be exhausted from practice.

“What happened?”

“Sorry for waking you, Dad…”

Tyler squeezes his eyes shut, picturing his father in the living room or the kitchen, tired after a long day of work and taking care of his brothers and sister. He shouldn’t have called over something so small.

“I asked what happened,” Andrew repeats firmly.

Tyler bites his lip, thinking of how to start. He takes a deep breath, just like Betsy taught him in therapy, when the question “What do you want to talk about today?” felt too heavy.

“I need your advice.”

There’s silence for a few moments. Tyler scrambles for words, and Andrew waits patiently.

“I… met someone,” he finally whispers.

He says it carefully, as if testing the reaction. For a moment he closes his eyes, picturing Alex’s smile, his dimples, his eyes he could drown in.

There’s only the sound of Andrew breathing on the other end, then a soft rustle, like he’s running a hand through his hair.

“Who is he?” Andrew asks quietly. His voice is cautious, but warm, like he truly wants to know.

Tyler buries his face in the pillow, blushing.

“The most amazing person I’ve ever met. He… he always smiles when he sees me. Even if he’s busy or had a crappy day. And he’s got these…” Tyler falters, then laughs shakily. “These beautiful eyes, Dad. And his laugh. And the dimples. And…”

His voice drops to a whisper.

“I don’t get why he even spends time with someone like me.”

“Maybe because you’re amazing too? And he feels as good around you as you do around him?”

“But…” Tyler’s chest tightens. “I can’t… I don’t know how to trust him.”

“You don’t have to trust him right away,” Andrew says calmly. “But if you like spending time with him—then why not?”

“You think so?” Tyler asks hesitantly.

“I know so,” Andrew answers firmly.

“It’s just… after Jacob, I—”

Tyler flinches at the memory of that night.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I haven’t told him what happened. And I don’t think I want to… you know… have sex anytime soon.”

His words come out in a guilty whisper. Andrew is the only one he can talk to about this. He can’t imagine anyone else understanding.

“You don’t have to,” Andrew says sharply, leaving no room for doubt.

“Tell him how you feel. And if he doesn’t get it? Fuck him.”

Tyler bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, fuck him. Thanks, Dad.”

He hangs up, staring at the black screen of his phone before shutting his eyes. God, I hope Alex understands. Please let him understand. Isn’t it time for something good to finally happen in his life?

...

This is the brightest, purest, blinding streak of light in his life. Tyler is beyond happy. They spend all their free time together, meeting almost every day after classes. They go to cafés and parks, holding hands. Even when Tyler stresses about canceling because of exams, Alex shows up later at his dorm, somehow sneaking in with takeout and ready to help him study.

Tyler can’t help but compare him to his ex. Jacob would’ve yelled at him right away, probably demanded sex just to keep him around. But Alex isn’t like that. When Tyler admits he’s not ready for sex, Alex doesn’t even ask why—he just nods.

“Okay. I’m not in a hurry.”

Tyler could’ve left it there. But guilt gnawed at him, and after a couple days and a brutal panic attack, he finally confessed he’d been assaulted. Alex held his hand while Tyler shook and cried his way through the story. When it was over, Alex squeezed his hand, lifted it slowly, and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“I’m so sorry you went through that, Ty. I swear I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to.”

Tyler nodded quickly, sniffling.

“I know. I know you’re not like that.”

Alex brushed a tear from his cheek.

“I like you. And I care about what we’re building together.”

He cupped Tyler’s face gently.

“I’ll wait as long as you need. Even if you never want sex.”

“Never?” Tyler asked, surprised.

Alex snorted.

“I’ve still got a hand, don’t I?”

Tyler shoved him, laughing through the tears.

“Gross!”

But it worked. Alex was willing to stay, no matter what. Because he liked Tyler—not his body, but him.

Later, as they drift off to sleep, Tyler curls against his chest and whispers:

“I love you.”

Alex pulls him closer, kissing the top of his head.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

Andrew sat on the couch in the living room, facing his five-year-old daughter. Vi was grinning from ear to ear, rocking back and forth from her toes to her heels, and looking up at him as if they were about to play a game instead of learning safety rules.

“If someone comes up to you and says: ‘Oh, sweet little girl, I have puppies in my car,’ what do you say?” Andrew asked slowly, studying her face.

“Oh yes!” Vi answered cheerfully, bouncing with excitement.

“No.” Andrew frowned.

“Of course?”

“No.”

“Ja!” she smirked, clearly enjoying their little verbal duel.

“Still no. And switching languages won’t help you here. You have to say: ‘No, I’m not going with you,’” Andrew explained firmly.

Now Vi began to frown as well.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

“But you’re my dad.”

Andrew sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, gathering his thoughts.

“No, pretend I’m not your dad.”

The girl’s eyes widened in shock, and suddenly she whispered in a trembling voice:

“You don’t want to be my dad anymore?”

Tears welled up in her eyes at once. Andrew shut his own, exhaled heavily, and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“That’s enough for today,” he soothed, lifting her into his arms. “We’ll practice another time.”

But Vi was already crying loudly, burying her face in his shoulder. At that moment, Neil came down the stairs, apparently having heard the commotion. Behind him, stretching their necks curiously, followed Chris and Jim. Neil stopped in the middle of the living room, raising his brows as he glanced from the tearful daughter to the grim Andrew.

Andrew gently rubbed the girl’s back and whispered in her ear:

“I’m your dad. It’s fine, I’m your dad again.”

“Andrew?” Neil called, puzzled.

“Someone’s going to snatch her,” Andrew muttered darkly, staring at him.

“If anything happens, just scream ‘mom’!” Chris suggested with an important air, clearly proud of his idea.

“But I don’t have a mom!” Vi burst out, her voice breaking, before collapsing into bitter sobs again.

Later that same evening.

“Andrew?”

“Mmm?” Andrew tore himself away from the documents and looked up at his husband.

His face carried the usual after-work fatigue, but his gaze turned wary the moment he saw the smile on Neil’s lips. Neil stepped aside, revealing Vi standing behind him.

“Go on. Like we practiced.”

The girl clenched her little fists, filled her lungs with as much air as she could, furrowed her brows, and blurted out at top speed:

“Who the fuck are you, asshole?! Get your hands off me! You’re not my fucking dad!”

Andrew blinked, slightly stunned by the outburst.

“Neil?”

“Well, it’ll draw a lot more attention than just yelling ‘help,’ won’t it?” Neil said with complete seriousness, giving Vi a high five.

And it was hard to argue with that.

Andrew decided that their family rule of “no swearing in front of the kids” might need a small exception.

...

In fact, when Neil was teaching his five-year-old daughter how to properly defend herself from unwanted attention from strangers, he never thought it would one day turn against him. Not that he regretted what he had done — not really. But maybe he should’ve explained to Vi in a little more detail the exact situations in which she could use that provocative phrase they had practiced.

The first time it happened was just a couple of days later.

At first, everything seemed so innocent that even Andrew didn’t give it any importance. That evening, as usual, they were heading over to visit Aaron and Katelyn. On the way, the twins — Chris and Jim — got into another fight, this time over some trivial thing. To spite his brother, Chris smirked and dropped Jim’s phone somewhere between the seats. Now Neil was swearing while trying to reach for it, at the same time yelling at the boys:

“Both of you, corners. Now! It’s just a phone! And yes, I’m getting it out!”

Andrew decided not to wait and, taking Vi by the hand, calmly went to his brother’s house, leaving Neil to deal with the kids.

Katelyn was busy cooking in the kitchen, Sophie was upstairs drawing, so only Aaron came out to greet them — nothing unusual. Andrew gave his brother a silent nod and headed into the living room. But when Aaron bent down to hug Vi, she suddenly pushed him away with her tiny hand and yelled at the top of her lungs:

“You bitch, you’re not my dad! Don’t touch me!”

Aaron froze: mouth open, arms still stretched forward for the hug, stuck in mid-air. Andrew went still too, staring at his daughter in shock. Thoughts spun wildly in his head, and after a few seconds, realization hit. Neil. Or rather, that exact phrase Neil had taught her.
While the adults stood frozen, Vi, as if nothing had happened, slipped past them, humming to herself, and hurried upstairs to Sophie.

“Andrew,” Aaron frowned, pointing toward the stairs. “What the hell was that?”

At that moment, the front door opened, and Neil walked in, the twins trailing behind him.

“We heard shouting. Everything okay?” he asked.

Chris and Jim, still shoving each other, nearly crashed into Andrew. He turned, giving them one of his rare heavy looks. The twins shut up instantly and rushed upstairs. Children’s bickering echoed from above, but Neil was already looking suspiciously between Aaron and Andrew.

“Something happened?”

“Your daughter is way too much like you,” Aaron muttered through gritted teeth, heading toward the kitchen.

“Um… was that a compliment or what?” Neil asked in confusion.

Andrew snorted, shrugging.

“Probably. Our daughter just called him a "bitch" and told him to take his hands off her.”

Andrew shot Neil a meaningful look. His lips twitched, trying to hide the smile breaking through.

“Neil, don’t you dare,” Andrew warned.

“I didn’t say anything,” Neil feigned innocence. “I’ll just go check on the kids. Or we might end up with one less.”

He turned away, trying to hide his smirk. He wasn’t supposed to be proud of that… was he? After all, she was his daughter.

“Don’t encourage her!” Andrew called after him.

“Didn’t even cross my mind,” Neil replied.

And if tomorrow he took Vi out for ice cream, that wouldn’t count as encouragement… right? The only thing he regretted was not seeing Aaron’s face at that exact moment.

The next time came only two days later, when both Neil and Andrew had almost managed to convince themselves that the incident with Aaron was just a coincidence.
This time, only Neil, Vi, and Kevin were at home.

The moment Vi saw Kevin at the door, she jumped up with excitement and rushed off to grab her racquet, absolutely certain they were going to play. And she wasn’t wrong: Kevin had shown up already in sports gear, as if he hadn’t even bothered to change after his last practice. Neil quickly changed as well, grabbed his racquet, and within minutes they were all outside in the yard.

“Uncle Kevin! Will you teach me how to pass?” Vi shouted, eyes sparkling as she ran toward him.

She bounced on her toes, clutching her small racquet in both hands.

“You promised, remember?” she reminded him. “You said when Dad wasn’t home!”

“Hey!” Neil protested instantly. “I’m still here, you know!”

Kevin snorted without even looking at him.

“I said when Andrew wasn’t home.”

Neil had no objection. Just seeing the happiness shining in Vi’s eyes was enough to make his own heart ache with joy.

“Don’t forget your helmet,” he reminded her. “Your dad won’t forgive you if you lose another tooth.”

Vi giggled and dashed off to fetch her bright pink helmet. It was covered in stickers—kittens, various Exy team logos, and one giant hawk in the center, the emblem of her father’s team. Both Neil and Kevin were secretly proud that this sticker was by far the biggest one.
The game went smoothly: they ran around the yard, tossing the ball back and forth. An hour passed unnoticed, and all the while Neil watched with delight as Vi laughed, caught the ball, and grew more confident with each passing minute. But Kevin, as always, couldn’t resist the urge to “improve” her technique.

“No! No, no, no!” he barked suddenly, striding toward her. He took her small hand and began demonstrating the proper grip. “Look, you hold it like this, and then the wrist motion—like this.”

“Kevin, relax a little,” Neil warned.

He noticed the spark of joy in Vi’s eyes dimming just slightly. Her jaw tightened, stubbornness flashing across her face. Neil knew that look too well—it was the same one he wore whenever he barely stopped himself from punching Kevin during practice.
Kevin, as usual, ignored everyone else. He grabbed Vi’s hand again, fixing her grip.

“This is how it’s done.”

Vi jerked her hand back sharply. Then she swung her racquet with all her strength and smacked Kevin across the arm. He staggered back, blinking in confusion, as she threw the racquet to the ground and shouted at the top of her lungs:

“Get your hands off me, bitch!”

She delivered the phrase almost exactly the way Neil had taught her. And it was only in that moment he realized: they were in trouble.

Vi stomped her feet, tore off her helmet, and stormed back inside the house. Kevin stared after her in shock, then turned to Neil. His mouth opened, closed, opened again—finally he managed to choke out:

“What did I do?!”

Neil shrugged with exaggerated calm.

“Don’t mind it. Growing pains.”

“Isn’t she, like, three?” Kevin asked, stunned.

“Five, actually,” Neil smirked.

Kevin was about to argue that five-year-olds didn’t have growing pains, but Neil lightly tapped him on the shoulder with his racquet.

“Wanna practice?” he asked innocently.

Kevin perked up immediately, already forgetting the little incident. But Neil didn’t forget.

And then it happened again. And fine—it had been funny with Aaron, and even a little with Kevin. But now, it wasn’t funny anymore.

Steve brought them mail at least once every two weeks. Neil would order wristbands, new sneakers, and maintenance supplies for his gear. Jim — books, which he carefully stacked on the shelves in his room. Vi — stickers she was currently obsessed with, and Exy magazines Neil bought her, because Andrew had flatly refused to “sponsor Exy in their house.” Chris seemed to buy everything in the world, later putting on an unboxing show: the whole family would guess what was hidden in the next box and why on earth they now needed a flower pot shaped like a skull. Only Andrew never seemed to order anything for himself, preferring to buy only what he could see and touch with his own hands in the store.

So, they all knew Steve, their courier, very well — and definitely didn’t expect to hear Vi’s furious outburst:

“Who the fuck are you?! Don’t touch me!!”

Steve froze on the doorstep, clutching the boxes to his chest, his eyes wide with shock. He looked at Neil and Andrew, clearly trying to understand what had just happened.

“I swear, I didn’t do anything,” he stammered helplessly.

Andrew sighed heavily, taking the boxes straight from his hands.

“We know, Steve,” he said calmly, closing the door behind the courier.

Silence fell over the house. Neil and Andrew exchanged glances. Something had to be done about this.

“Dad, did my magazine come?” Vi asked immediately, bouncing with excitement. “I’ve almost collected all the teams, I just need the Trojans! Because Uncle Kevin refused to give me his poster!”

They decided to talk to her about it later. And they tried several times, but either chose the wrong words, or Vi simply didn’t listen. She kept repeating the same phrases, shouting at everyone around her.

“Who the fuck are you?!” she would yell at random strangers in the street, pointing at them as if warning them to stay away.

“Get your hands off me!” she snapped at anyone who walked too close.

“You’re not my fucking dad!” she declared to a cashier in the store, folding her arms across her chest and lifting her chin defiantly.

Eventually, it had to happen. They got called to school.

Nicky offered to pick up the kids himself, and Neil agreed: the kids would be thrilled — their favorite uncle always treated them to ice cream on the way home. But they didn’t expect it to end with a phone call asking them to urgently come to Vi’s kindergarten.
Nicky looked flustered, standing outside and nervously tugging at the zipper of his jacket.

“What happened?” Andrew asked first, pinning him with a heavy stare. “Is Valerie okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Nicky nodded quickly, awkwardly running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… they wouldn’t give her to me.”

“What do you mean?” Neil frowned.

“Well… I picked her up in my arms to hug her. And then she started struggling, screaming that I wasn’t her dad, and demanding that I not touch her.”

He gave a helpless shrug.

“I see,” Neil said shortly, and with a sigh, headed inside, patting Nicky on the shoulder on his way: “We’ll have a talk with her.”

At home, they sat Vi down in front of them. The living room was unusually quiet, tense. Andrew leaned forward, his voice soft but firm.

“Vi, you shouldn’t say the things we taught you to just anyone.”

“But Papa said I could…” she frowned.

“I meant you can only use it against bad people. People who do bad things,” Neil explained.

Vi shrugged.

“But what if they wanted to do bad things? I don’t know that.”

“Do you really think Aaron, or Nicky, or Kevin wanted to do something bad?” Neil asked gently.

She shrugged again.

“Uncle Kevin yelled at me.”

“That’s not nice,” Neil admitted, “but you can ask him not to do that. Or walk away if it makes you uncomfortable. Bad is when someone wants to take you somewhere.”

“I know, I’m not supposed to go with strangers,” Vi interrupted.

“Right. Or if someone touches you where they shouldn’t, or tries to take your clothes off,” Andrew continued.

Vi nodded seriously.

“I know, Dad.”

“Then,” Andrew said, “that’s when you can use it and shout loudly so people will hear you. But your uncles, Steve, and the others — they didn’t do anything bad, did they?”

She slowly nodded, biting her lip.

“So… it was very unkind of you to say those words to them. Right?”

“Right…”

“And?”

“And I won’t do it again, I promise. I’ll only say that to bad people,” she said firmly.

“Good girl,” Neil smiled and pulled her into a hug.

Vi pressed against Neil, whispering in his ear:

“Papa, but you did buy me ice cream when I said that to Uncle Aaron…”

“Shhh,” he hushed quickly, hearing Andrew behind him pointedly clear his throat.

“I heard that,” Andrew muttered.