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Chapter Text

CHARACTER GLOSSARY

THE HATCHLINGS:

1. Jiro Moriyama (striker): second son of Ichirou Moriyama. As tradition, he isn't supposed to have any contact with the main branch of the family. He grew up with his mother, and various tutors. He was introduced to exy early, as it's Ichirou's plan to create a new perfect court.
   
   • Ichirou Moriyama (father): head of the Moriyama family
   • Kengo Moriyama (brother): firstborn of Ichirou and heir of the Moriyama empire. Sixteen at the time the story takes place.
   • Eguchi Yukiyo (mother): see summary of chapter 17
   • Onaga Suji (teacher): works for the Moriyama family, teaches the Hatchlings. See summary of chapter 17 for more.
   • Asahi Ito (tutor): acts in place of Lord Ichirou for any matter regarding his second son. He is in charge of his training for what concern his role in the family
2. David Day (striker): only son of Kevin Day and Thea Muldani. His ties with the world first striker have been kept hidden. Kevin has never even told the Foxes of his existence, for he wished to keep his son away from the Moriyama's grasp.
3. Theodore Woolridge (backliner): The Woolridge family acts as a bridge between the criminal world of the Moriyamas and the public world. Theodore, as first son, should be cherished along the main branch of the Moriyama family, but he has been sent to the Hatchlings instead, to serve the second son. It's unclear why Theodore, or the Woolridge family as a whole, seems to have fallen out of favour with Ichirou.
4. Sadie Lu (goalkeeper): It's unknown how her family is tied to the Moriyamas. Her mother seems to care a lot for her. She has Thai origins. She is six, but has to pretend to be eight in order to stay in the team.
5. Melody Malcolm (dealer): Somehow related to Lola Malcolm (see summary of chapter 30 to know more about her family). Melody is aware of a whole lot of information about the Moriyamas, the Wesniski, and even Andrew's past (see summary of chapter 15)
6. Cedric Hart (backliner): It's unclear how he's tied to the Moriyama family. It is very likely that he has been subjected to abuse of some kind. His documents mention a foster home.
7. Harriet Manning (goalkeeper): she doesn't seem to be tied to the Moriyama family, as her parents both appear innocuous.
8. Judie Parks (dealer): she doesn't seem to be tied to the Moriyama family, as her parents both appear innocuous. 
9. Ray Guerrero (backliner): It's unclear how he's tied to the Moriyama family. It is very likely that he has been subjected to abuse of some kind (see summary of chapter 25). He used to play street exy before he was recruited into the Hatchlings 

Other people tied to the Moriyama family:

• Beatrice (role unclear): she is the spokesperson assigned by the Moriyama family to deal with Neil and Andrew. (See chapter 30 to know more of her role in the organization)
• Freddie Kruger (handyman): work as handyman in the Eyrie Court. It's unclear how he is tied to the Moriyamas, but he is very respectful of Mr. Jiro
• Peter Hanabi (head of security of the Eyrie Court): it's unclear how he is tied to the Moriyamas.

People involved in Andrew's past (presented in chapter 22-23)

• Lidya Morris (first foster mom)
• Leonard Lee (first social care worker)
• Mya Duran (Andrew's childhood friend)
• Ms. Haddon (last social care worker)

The Foxes' children

• Felix and Franz Klose (twin brothers, adopted by Nicky and Erik. Two/three years old at the time of the story)
• Alice Boyd (only daughter of Matt and Dan. About four/five years old at the time of the story)

CHAPTER SUMMARY

1. Neil is severely injured during an exy game. His leg gets amputated. Despite him being no longer able to fulfil his duties to the Moriyama family as a national level athlete, Ichirou decides to use him as coach for his new little league team, the Hatchlings, in which Jiro, Ichirou's second son, will be captain.
2. The Foxes visit Neil during his recovery. Kevin is late to show up, and when he does, three months after the injury, he reveals that he had been planning to run away with David Wymack's help. His plans were foiled when the Moriyama made clear that they know of Kevin's son existence, and they intend to use him in the new little league team. Kevin begs Neil to protect his son, David. Neil accepts.
3. Neil goes through rehabilitation, and he's now able to walk with a prosthetic leg. A woman named Beatrice, who works for the Moriyama family, takes Neil for a visit to the new court, the Eyrie, set in the middle of the desert. Andrew tags along, uninvited. Neil realizes he'll need to live there and feels distraught at the idea of leaving Andrew. Andrew reassures him that they will be living together at the Eyrie Court. Neil asks how Andrew will manage with his own exy practice, Andrew doesn't answer. 
4. The members of the Hatchling team arrive at the court. Neil is not handling their presence very well, while Andrew seems to be naturally good at handling children. When Kevin drops his son David at the Eyrie, he begs the child to stay away from Jiro Moriyama, as Kevin doesn't want David to go through what he had during his childhood. David immediately despises the idea and tries to befriend Jiro.
5. Neil discovers that Melody is related to Lola in some way, and that the girl is aware of Neil's past and true identity. She also seems to despise Neil for some reason.
6. The Hatchlings have their first day of practice. Neil realizes the team is in no shape to tackle the national little league, but he cannot send any of these kids back, or the Moriyama might decide to find a different use for them.

Work in progress... I'll update this page very soon with the other chapters.

Chapter Text

Neil is thrown to the ground with a loud thud. It feels like a regular body-check, but then his mind registers the racquet bending at an odd angle between his legs, and that's when the pain erupts from his knee. Or whatever is left of it.

Neil hears his Coach yelling, the referee whistling, and the striker that checked him mumbling something, but everything is just white noise.

Neil is no stranger to pain, he spent his childhood in pain, but it has been almost eight years since he suffered so much he wanted to scream. Wanted, but even with all those years apart, his father's voice is still clear in his head. "Be quiet now, Junior."

And so Neil is quiet. The pain is so intense he loses bits of time. The dark face of his coach appears in front of him, and then disappears again.

"Get out of the way! Neil. Stop it." Andrew's voice is behind him. Neil sees him getting closer. Andrew doesn't have his helmet and he got rid of his gloves already. He is looking at Neil with that stony expression of his, clouded by an intense worry that has got Neil terrified. 

"Call the nurse!" The Coach screams.

Andrew rises a look of pure murder. "Call an ambulance. Now."

Neil doesn't want to look at his leg, but it must be bad. It must be really bad. He reaches out, blindly, and a hand carefully closes around his.

"Stay still."

"How bad...?" That's all Neil manages to ask. 

Andrew just squeezes his grip. "Stay still."

He is aware of Andrew's hand on his wrist, before he is aware to be awake. How is his mind so sure that hand must belong to Andrew, Neil doesn't know. Maybe it's in the way he holds him, firm and impossibly gentle at the same time.

Neil opens his eyes. The room is dimly lit, the curtains are drawn. He's in a hospital bed, and Andrew is standing next to him with tense shoulders and eyes fixed on the only door.

"Drew."

Andrew tightens his grip to let him know he heard him, but he doesn't look away from the door. 

"What happened?" Neil has vague memories of his injury. His leg had hurt like crazy, but now he's too confused to feel anything.

Andrew keeps staring at the door. "A sorry excuse for a striker body-checked you with his racquet pointing forward. It went through your left leg and destroyed your knee. You have been under surgery for eight hours. There was no saving it, they amputated your leg from the knee down. You have been sleeping off the anesthesia for three more hours, and here we are."

Neil blinks several times before the enormity of what he has just heard makes his way into his conscience.

The first thought that comes to his mind is silly: he doesn't feel like his leg is missing. He feels normal, just a bit groggy. Andrew must be mistaken.

But Andrew could not be mistaken about something like this.

And so the next logical thought makes his way to his brain. Neil tenses and tries to raise, but Andrew's grip holds him firmly in place.

"We have to..." Neil gasps. "I can't stay here. I'm dead."

"You are not dead yet." Andrew still won't look his way, and this time Neil understands why. In his free hand, Andrew is holding his biggest knife. He has been holding it for the past three hours, Neil is sure. Guarding the bed like an armoured knight.

"Drew." Neil tries with the soft voice that is meant to drag his partner out of the worst his mind has to offer. "I'm not delusional. I know a single man can't protect me from an entire mafia. You have no business with the Moriyamas, they'll leave you alone. Just go and..."

Andrew presses his fingers deep into Neil's skin and drags his killing stare from the door to Neil's idiotic face.

Yes. Of course Andrew isn't going to leave Neil to be killed by the Moriyamas. After almost a decade of sharing their lives, Neil should know better.

But standing there with a knife, like Andrew's simple will and murderous intent will be enough to save them both is ridiculous. Neil knows Andrew won't leave him to die, but he also knows he can't let Andrew become collateral damage.

"Then we leave, Drew. Both of us. We have to run."

"They won't bring me a wheelchair, they say you can't be moved yet. I can't leave you here to go and find one, and if I try to drag you out of here on my arms, I will most likely get stopped before I can get to the exit. I called Boyd, since he's the one living closer, he's on his way here with his car."

Neil takes a breath. Andrew already thought about running. After everything they did to build a life of their own, Andrew is ready to throw it all away for Neil. That warm feeling that Neil has learned to recognize, but that he will never become accustomed to, fills his chest.

And then another, tinier thought assaults him. A wheelchair. He will be expected to move with a wheelchair from now on.

Andrew's ringtone makes them both jump. It's almost traumatic when Andrew lets go of Neil to grab the phone.

"Where are you?"

Neil doesn't hear Matt's reply, but by the way Andrew's eyes grow slightly bigger, it's not good news.

Andrew closes the call and turns to Neil.

"What...?"

The sheets get thrown away and Andrew grabs him by the waist and hoists him up.

"What... hey!"

Neil's body still feels numb from the anesthesia, he can't quite adjust himself to help Andrew's hold.

"Matt is at the parking lot. He said there's a big black car with a bunch of scary Japanese men standing guard there. I don't know how long they have been here. Ichirou might already be in the hospital."

"That's preposterous." A deep voice comes from the door.

Andrew lets go of Neil and turns around, knife in hand.

The man at the door is not Ichirou, and neither are the four men that surround him. They are all Asian, nicely dressed, and completely unbothered by Andrew's knife.

"Lord Ichirou doesn't entertain himself with filth."

Andrew and Neil both spend three seconds to assess the situation. It's not looking good. Five against one. Neil doesn't count himself as capable of doing any damage, he couldn't even remain seated once Andrew let go of him on the bed. He slipped on the sheets like a dead thing.

"Lord Ichirou has had my undivided loyalty from the day I was born." Neil says, with his best impression of a meek subject. "Nothing will change that. There is no need for hostility," he said for the men at the door, as much as for Andrew.

The first of the Japanese criminals walks into the room. Andrew is uncertain, turns his eyes to Neil looking for confirmation, and in the end decides to lower the knife.

"My name is Asahi Ito, and here, today, I represent Lord Ichirou and his interests."

Neil tries his best to make a polite nod.

"This incident has been unfortunate." Asahi continues. "Lord Ichirou has been satisfied with your career these past few years, he is saddened that it has ended so soon."

For a moment, Neil forgets the men, and the threat to both his and Andrew's life. His career is over. No more Exy. No more court. No more games. The one thing that has kept him going after his mother was killed, after he thought for sure his father's men were going to kill him too, is gone forever.

Neil makes a strangled sound with his throat, but Asahi doesn't seem to notice.

"Naturally, since you are property of the Moriyama family, your future has been decided by Lord Ichirou, who is not a wasteful man."

Neil is too scared to hope. Andrew is still tense, knife hidden, but ready to be grasped at any moment.

"From now on, you are in charge of coaching the next generation of Ravens, starting from the little league team of the Hatchlings. Among your players there will be various properties of the Moriyama family who will be expected to excel above any competition.Do you understand?"

Neil is still too stunned from the realization that he will not be executed on the spot. He manages a nod.

Asahi seems displeased, the look he shots Neil could freeze hell. "Most importantly, the captain of your team will be Jiro Moriyama, second son of Lord Ichirou, and second in line of succession to his empire. You must understand the gravity of your task. Mr. Jiro's education is worth much more than your life, and any other on the team. Do you understand?"

Neil swallows what feels like pure acid. A memory invades his mind. It's Riko's voice asking over and over "who is your king, Nathaniel?"

Neil will have to deal with another second son of the Moriyamas. Just the thought is enough to make him reconsider the execution option.

Asahi takes another step forward.

"Do you understand, Nathaniel Wesninski?"

Chapter Text

Everything happens too fast. Neil spends a week at the hospital, where he is poked, turned and stared at by doctors and nurses.

His leg is missing.

He had logically understood that his leg was missing, but his brain couldn’t imagine that reality for him.

Now he has to imagine it, because it’s right in front of him. The sheets are gone, and his leg is missing.

“Above-the-knee prosthetics are harder to use, but its doable. It will take time and a lot of rehabilitation, but you’ll walk again.” That’s what the doctor told him.

To walk again. That is his realistic goal now. Not running, certainly not jumping around with a racquet.

The ex-Foxes come to see him, one by one, all with various degree of uneasiness. Matt tries to be cheerful about it, then cries, hugs Neil, then tries to be cheerful again. Allison spends the whole visit ranting about the player that destroyed Neil's career and how could they ever let that criminal still play? They just red-carded him! How could he get away with it with a red card?

Neil doesn’t care about the striker. He has already spent too much time on the phone with the man’s quivering voice apologizing profusely for what he did, confessing how deeply guilty he felt, and apologizing again for not coming in person, because he was scared Andrew Minyard was going to kill him.

“It was just an accident.” Neil is getting tired of repeating it. To his teammates, to his family, to himself.

It really had been just an accident. It’s almost funny. After everything he has been through, the thing that managed to do the most damage is an accident.

Renee takes three days to get from New York to Phoenix. She has sweet words for Neil, useless encouragements, and then she is off with Andrew. Neil is grateful for her presence, Andrew had been regressing that week, being overly vigil, tense, talking in nods and head shakes.

Nicky and Erik arrive at the last day of his hospital stay. Nicky looks like he has been crying for the whole flight from Germany. The twins they adopted don’t really remember Neil that much, and Neil doesn’t remember them looking like actual people instead of weirdly human-shaped worms.

While Nicky is crying some more, and Erik is trying his very best to keep a conversation alive with Andrew, Felix and Franz decide to use the hospital room as their very own playground. Neil tries to focus on Nicky’s wailing, but the devil twins have all his attention. While one climbs on the windowsill the other is taking off his shoes, then his socks.

How old are they now? Eight? Four? Neil can’t tell. He doesn’t know anything about children, for fucks sake. How can he ever coach a little league team?

“Ehm, yeah, rehabilitation will take a while. How… how old are the twins now?”

Nicky blinks through the tears. Looks around, then looks back at his cousin and thinks he is being very funny when he replies: “Twenty-seven, I think.”

Andrew stops pretending to listen to Erik’s rambling, goes to the window and grabs Felix. “They are three and a half, Neil. We’ve been to their birthday last year.”

Three and a half. Ok. The kids at the little league are older than that. They probably know not to take off their shoes whenever they feel like it.

Andrew puts down the tiny creature on the bed, just to grab him again when his curious little hand stretches towards Neil’s stump.

Their visit ends shortly after.

“I can’t do it. I don’t have the patience.” And it’s not just that he doesn’t have the ability and knowledge to do it, it’s that he doesn’t want to. His first deal with the Moriyamas didn't make him feel trapped, because what they had wanted from him, just so happened to be what he had wanted for himself too.

Andrew is sitting on the chair that he has reclaimed as his own during the week. He doesn’t offer condolences or excuses. He takes Neil’s hand and tightens his grip. “You can do it. You already did it with the Foxes.”

“The Foxes weren’t dependable human beings that could have broken with one bad fall.”

“Everyone can break with one bad fall, Neil.”

Neil doesn’t like that line of thought. He goes silent and for a while that’s all there is.

“You’ll do good.”

They rent a wheelchair from the hospital, and that’s what they use to take Neil from the hospital bed to the car.

There’s no helping it. Neil hates it.

Andrew acts like nothing about this bothers him. Like he has been pushing that wheelchair all his life, and he’s just used to it by now.

Neil hates it.

They get to the car and Andrew opens the passenger door. He looks at Neil, down where he is sitting, then at the seat inside the car.

“I can get in by myself.”

Andrew doesn’t argue. He brings the wheelchair a little closer, then pulls the breaks.

Neil rises himself up with his arms and pushes the ground with his only foot. The injury explodes in a thunder of pain when he brushes against the seat a little too violently.

When he manages to rest his back, he is sweating and grunting in pain.

Andrew is looking at him with his elbow resting on the car door. “Maybe you can wait for the injury to heal before you try that trick again.”

“Shut up. Just get us home.”

Andrew rolls his eyes and proceeds to fold the wheelchair. Then, after several minutes of strenuous fighting, he manages to tuck it safely inside the trunk. When he climbs on the driver seat all he has to say is: “We need a different car.”

Neil wants to scream. Andrew loves that car. It’s fast and sinuous and completely inefficient for a wheelchair user.

Their house isn’t any different. As soon as the car is parked in the driveway, Andrew spends a whole quiet minute glaring at the grass between the passenger seat and the house door.

They also have stairs to get to the first floor. That is going to be fun.

“I could just pick you up.”

Neil doesn’t say anything to that. It wouldn’t be the first time Andrew has picked him up, but his previews experiences have been playful, teasing and loving. This was different.

Andrew waits for Neil to say something, but when nothing comes, he just gets out of the car and takes the wheelchair.

They do try for a good bit, but the wheels get untangled in the grass, and the gravel makes any step they manage to take impossibly bumpy.

“This wheelchair is a piece of shit. We just need one with decent wheels.”

Yes. Neil needs a different career, a different car, and a different wheelchair. He is sure Andrew is going to say they need a different house as soon as he remembers about the stairs. No matter the fact that they spent months finding the perfect place, or that it took several therapy sessions to figure out how to make it feel safe for Andrew.

Half the furniture needs to be moved. Andrew opens the couch in the living room on the ground floor to serve as a temporary bed. The cats are enthusiastic about this. Since that’s where Neil spends the next three weeks of his life, waiting for his amputated leg to stop pulsing with pain at every movement, Sir and King find great joy in walking all over him at all times.

Dan comes to visit him after her team lost the semi-final. She has a lot of “I’m so sorry” and “this must be very difficult for you” ready, but Neil interrupts her almost immediately.

“I need help.”

Dan is taken aback. Of course she is, Neil would generally rather skin himself that saying those three words in that order.

“Neil… anything you need. Of course.”

And so Neil explains what the world would eventually discover through the press. His career as a player is over, and now he would continue as a coach.

“The only experience I have is from when I was captain for the Foxes for those two years. But I don’t really know the first thing about coaching. Especially coaching children.”

“Or coaching psychotic children,” mumbles Dan, probably thinking back at what the Ravens had been.

“Dan, you are my best shot.”

She smiles with ill-concealed excitement. “Of course, I’ll help you. But I coach college students, it’s a very different thing.”

“But you are also a mother. So you must know lots about kids, right?”

She seems even prouder at that. Dan and Matt tried to conceive for many years and had several miscarriages before one baby finally made it to her birth. Neil doesn’t remember how old Alice is now, but she must be around the age to pick up a racquet. Neil vaguely remembers listening to Matt babbling about his little girl scoring against him.

In the next few days, Dan relocates her entire library of books about coaching (and books about parenting) to Neil’s and Andrew’s living room.

“And if you need some specific advice on how to handle psychotic kids, you should probably ask Wymack.”

Neil smiles at that and doesn’t tell her that Coach Wymack had not called or showed himself yet. Neil had tried to call him, but he'd always found the line busy.

“This is all riveting.” Andrew had found a liking to pick up random books from Dan’s pile, and bully them endlessly. “Hear this: gentle parenting emphasizes mutual respect and boundaries, but instead of using incentives or discipline, it calls for the use of empathy, understanding, identifying the incorrect behavior and avoiding labelling the child as 'naughty'.” Andrew rises his head and stares Neil in the eyes. “I wish I had this book when I was a kid. I could have beaten up my foster parents with it.”

Neil laughs, because that’s what Andrew is trying to do, and he has been trying to do it for the past three hours, the least Neil can do is laugh. But the truth is that he is not feeling the little bit cheerful. He misses practice already and wishes the Foxes could have stayed with him a little longer. Or, in some cases, showed up at all.

Right on cue, the doorbell rings and Andrew rises swiftly to get it.

Neil sighs. “We don’t even argue anymore about who should get the door.”

Andrew points a finger at him. “You get two more self-pitying comments today, then I'll duct-tape your mouth.”

Neil hears the squeak of the door being opened, but can’t see anything from where he is sitting.

All he hears is Andrew’s fake cheerfulness through his voice: “Hello, disappointing father figure. And Kevin.”

Neil’s heart makes a little jump when he hears Wymack’s voice. “We are here to see Neil; we know about the accident.”

“Yes, the world knows about the accident, it was all over the news, it was also a month and a half ago. The guys from Germany managed to get here in seven days.”

Kevin makes a sound similar to a growl. “I have my reasons.”

“You’re shitty?”

“Get out of the fucking way, Andrew.”

Almost a decade of intense therapy taught Andrew to take three breaths before launching himself at people, and that’s what he does now that Kevin has the great idea to shove him backwards and entering Neil’s line of vision.

Everyone is standing still waiting to see what Andrew would do, even Andrew seems to be wondering the same thing. After the third breath, he makes a welcoming gesture towards the living room and turns around to go up the stairs.

“Don’t go grab those fucking cats!” Kevin yells.

He is going to grab the cats, Neil thinks.

Before Andrew comes down, Wymack makes his way into the living room. Everything about him is older, especially the eyes. There was always a weariness to him that nothing could really shake, but right now, it's not just tiredness that clouds his look.

“Oh, kid,” he says with mourning in his voice. “Life dealt you a shitty hand. You don’t deserve this.”

Neil feels put on the spot. He vastly prefers Andrew’s ironic truths to this raw pity. With Andrew, Neil feels like he can complain and whine all he likes, knowing that there is someone that will drag him out of that state.

“I’m doing better already. I will start rehabilitation next week. And they already made a cast to start working on my prosthetic.”

Wymack nods but he doesn’t seem to be really listening. Neil turns to Kevin. His old teammate is staring at the stump, his eyes unfocused.

“Kevin?”

The world number one's striker comes back to reality right in time for Andrew to make his entrance with King in his arms.

“Oh, for fucks sake! Stay away!”

Andrew doesn’t stay away. In fact, he smears the cat all over his chest, his neck, his shoulders. Only when Kevin starts to aggressively sneeze, Andrew considers himself satisfied and sets the beast free.

Kevin sneezes again. “That’s why I never fucking come here.” Sneeze. “Asshole.”

Andrew crosses his arms and raises a single eyebrow. “Why do you think we’ve got the cats in the first place?”

“Stop it. Both of you. We don’t have time for this.” Wymack takes a step forward. “Neil, I’m sorry we took this long to come visit you, but we had our reasons.” He turns around to face Kevin and makes an impatient nod to urge him to continue.

“Ok,” Kevin sighs. He gets closer to the couch-turn-into-bed and sits right next to Neil. “Ok, so… There's something I've never... Remember when we were in collage, and I… I was with Thea, at the time, but then she left me, and we didn’t see each other again, yes?”

Neil shrugs, he vaguely remembers.

“Well, we kind of… lied. She didn’t leave me. She was pregnant. And we thought... well, I thought… that if no one knew that it was my child, well…”

Realization slowly hits Neil. “You… what the hell are you saying? You kept the child? You HAVE a child?” Neil’s eyes open wide. “You… you… Have you lost your mind?! You know how those people think! They’ll see your child as their property!”

“I KNOW, NEIL!” Kevin jumps on his feet.

“Then why did you have a child?!”

“It wasn’t intentional, you fucking dickwit!”

Andrew's eyebrows is still floating around his forehead. “Ever heard of condoms?”

Neil knows Andrew's still pissed at Kevin and Wymack for taking almost two months to visit, and he's not going to back off for any reason now.

Kevin just glares at him. Then he shakes his head and something in his look changes. Neil has seen that expression enough times to recognize it. It's the same desperation that had engulfed Kevin when he was trying to get away from Riko.

“I know we’ve been irresponsible. I thought that if I never acknowledged him they would never know, and leave him alone. I thought he could lieve a normal life. But… the same day of your accident, an old acquaintance from my time with the Ravens came to my house. He said the Moriyamas knew about the child, that they knew he was mine, and that it was time I paid what was due.” A long sigh leaves him. “Ichirou wants to create the next generation of pro players, starting from the little league.” Kevin’s eyes rise from the floor to Neil. “And you are going to be the coach.”

Neil has lost the ability to speak. He understands what this means. Kevin’s son will be part of the line-up.

“I can’t let him go through what I did. Neil. I can’t!” There’s a savage desperation in his voice. “We thought about running, but… they made it very clear it was a bad choice.”

Andrew turns to Wymack putting the last bit of clue in its place. “You were helping them escape. And you obviously already knew about the child.”

Wymack seems embarrassed for a moment. But then he nods, and something close to pride shines in his smile. “The kid’s called David.”

“Neil, please!” Kevin takes Neil’s hands, and his face… it’s something Neil has never seen on him. “I can’t protect him! I can’t do anything! But he can’t go through what I did. He can’t!”

“It won’t be like that,” Neil replies immediately. “Things got out of hand with you because Tetsuji let it happen. Do you think I would ever…”

“But it wasn’t just about Tetsuji. Riko was there.”

“Riko’s dead.”

“And didn't you hear?” Kevin ask, and a second after that he laughs, an ugly, unsettling sound. "There's a new Riko, now. And this new Riko will be there with David. He… David, I mean, he doesn’t know anything about the Moriyamas. And he… he’s not like me, Neil. He will put himself in trouble. I KNOW he will put himself in trouble. If someone like Ichirou were to come close to him, I… I don’t know what I’d...”

“Hey,” Neil puts his hands on Kevin’s shoulders. “I will be there, and I will tell you everything that happens. I’ll protect him. You know I will.”

Kevin takes a long breath. It's hard for Neil to see him back in that desperate state.

His friend bows his head. "Thank you. Thank you, Neil."

Chapter Text

The Moriyamas take another month to contact Neil again. In that time frame, Andrew is there at his side. He’s there to cook for him, he’s there to help him shower, to help him on the toilet, to watch tv and play videogames, to take Neil’s mind off whatever spiral it’s currently going down.

Then he is there for the rehabilitation. He helps Neil stretching what’s left of his leg, in preparation for his prosthetic, and he is the one holding his hands the first time Neil stands up with an artificial limb.

“Come now, I don’t have all day.” Andrew is standing at the other side of the room, waiting for Neil to cross the few steps that separate them.

The physiotherapists glare at him. They think him callous and cruel. They have no idea how much Andrew does. How much he cares.

Neil places his prosthetic one step forward. He hears the sound of the tip touching the ground, but he doesn’t feel anything. He is asked to trust this invisible sensation and to drop his weight on it. His good leg is slightly shaking. Neil feels unstable, feels like he’s going to fall any second now.

Andrew rises a hand, right about where Neil’s head would be if he were closer. Andrew is promising him a kiss if he can get to the other side. He doesn’t care about who’s watching, and Neil doesn’t care either.

He takes a leap of faith and drops his weight on the fake leg. A grin spreads through his face when he doesn’t immediately fall.

“Impressive,” says Andrew, not impressed in the slightest. His hand is still in the air, still waiting to intertwine in Neil’s hair.

Another step and he is almost halfway. It’s a weird sensation. It’s like walking with a numb leg after you sat on it for too long. After over two months from the surgery, the pain is almost completely gone.

“Tick tock, Neil.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

And he does. Andrew’s fingers twist in Neil’s hair, and Andrew is the one to cover the last step that kept them apart. His lips touch Neil’s, opening with hunger for his tongue.

Neil doesn’t know what is safe to touch at the moment, so he does his best to keep his hands away. Andrew has been distant when it came to intimacy, since the injury. Neil isn’t too worried about it. Consistent therapy helped Andrew a lot, but he still has moments when skin contact makes him spiral. Those moments are becoming sparser and shorter with every passing year, but Neil can understand that such a monumental change in his body could have made Andrew regress a little.

The kiss breaks and Andrew opens his eyes. He looks at Neil’s hands, awkwardly hovering at his sides, and glares at them like they personally offended him.

“I wasn’t sure…”

Andrew turns Neil around and gives him a little shove. “Another round. Go back.”

Neil sighs. His hip is starting to hurt, and this feeling is still too alien to endure for so long.

Andrew senses his reticence, so he offers Neil his silent support by shoving him a little harder.

“Don’t push him!” One of the doctors intervenes, indignant.

Well, this time Neil expects the third shove, and yet his legs still give out. Andrew catches him before he kisses the floor and puts him right back up.

Neil slouches in his hold and sighs again. “I’m tired.”

“You are an Olympic athlete.”

“I’m not. Not anymore.”

“I’m about to throw you out the window.”

The doctors are saying something, but neither of them is listening.

Andrew is still keeping Neil upright. “What would it take for you to do another round?”

Neil feels a good tingling in his stomach, but then a wave of shame takes over him. Andrew is facing the physical and the emotional backlash of this situation, for both of them. Of course he’s stressed out. That’s why they haven’t been doing much more than snuggling closer when they get to bed.

“I don’t need incentives,” Neil says. Andrew lets out a huff of pure derision, but doesn’t argue.

Neil takes three more rounds before giving out. He is on the other side of the room when he feels his legs fail him, but Andrew is there to catch him anyway. He always is.

First, there was a phone call. Neil answered the unknown number with uncertainty. On the other side, there was a lady called Beatrice, that had called to explain the details of Neil’s knew employment position. Somehow, it felt very official, and professional and not at all mafia related.

So, now Neil is staring at the street, sitting on a bench of his house porch. A car is supposed to pick him up any moment now.

Andrew is also there.

“You’re gonna have to go back to practice, eventually, you know?”

Andrew doesn’t reply. He is also looking at the street, waiting for the Moriyama’s car. He hadn’t been formally invited, but by now, everyone knows they are a one package deal. Every Coach that ever offered them for a position in their team had done so with twin contracts, with identical benefits and obligations.

A black car approaches and stops on their driveway. What looks like a bodyguard in full suit and sunglasses walks out of the car and goes straight for the porch.

“We are here to collect Wesninski.”

Something both acid and sour tasting fills Neil’s mouth, but he can’t do much about it. He limits himself to nodding and prepares for the difficult task of getting up.

Andrew puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him down again.

“There are no Wesninskis here.”

The massive man in a suit doesn’t let any emotion go through his face. He looks back at the car with tinted windows. There is nothing there to look at but when he turns around again he says: “We are here to collect Josten.”

When he sees both Neil and Andrew moving, he doesn’t raise any grievances.

The woman named Beatrice is in the car. She is white, with brown, long hair tied in a ponytail, and she is dressed like a regular businesswoman. She has a polite smile for the two of them as soon as they climb into the car.  

“Hello, Mr. Josten. I will be your primary contact with the investors of this project.”

The investors being one of the biggest criminal organizations around. Ok.  

“You have been very lucky to be chosen for this position. The entire program is starting from scratch this year. We have a new court, new banners, new uniforms. You’ll have about a week to update on all the bureaucracy and to move all your things.”

“What? Move? what do you mean?”

The woman looks back at him from the front seat while the bodyguard starts the car. “Well, you will be expected to sleep there, of course. You can’t leave the children unsupervised.”

“Wait. So. The children will sleep there too?”

Beatrice blinks, like he is stupid. “This team is meant to compete on a national level. And we have selected the best of our own, they come from all parts of the US. They can’t possibly go back home after practice.”

“But… what about school?”

Beatrice sighs, like he is stupid. “I’m sure everything will be clear to you once we get there.

Neil slouches back into his seat. Andrew hasn’t said a word yet about the moving thing. Neil and Andrew had been living together since the second year of college. They can’t just… be apart.

They leave town and keep driving for several hours in thick silence.

When the car takes a turn to a secondary road, there hasn’t been a sign of civilization for a while. Around them there is a desert, bushes, then some more desert. This is the kind of place Neil would take someone he wants to kill.

Andrew has been keeping his arms crossed since he has sat in the car. His armbands hide a good number of knives that would come in handy if the real reason they have been brought there is to put a bullet in their skulls.

“Now, see that beautiful stadium?” Beatrice points ahead, like they could have somehow not seen the only building in sight before the end of the horizon in every direction.

“That’s the Eyrie Court. We wanted to stay in theme with the bird thing.”

Andrew and Neil exchange a look. From a distance, the court Neil will spend the rest of his days in doesn’t look too somber. They have dropped the black aesthetic of the Ravens in favor of light green and yellow.

The building looks bigger than the Foxhole Court. Granted, there is nothing else around it, so all the lodgings must be already integrated.

“Why is it so isolated?” Neil dares to ask.

“Well, we don’t want too many distractions, and we also want to keep these new generations of Hatchlings away from the press’ attention until they are ready to be presented to the public.”

“Right…”

“You also want everyone inside to be completely dependable on the resources you supply,” Andrew adds. “It’d take three hours to get to the nearest shop.”

Beatrice smiles and doesn’t bother to confirm nor deny.

As they get closer, the details of the court get clearer. Its exterior displays a balanced blend of yellow and light green hues, emanating a calming aura. The grand entrance features four gates adorned with the symbol of a tiny fat bird with a lot of fluffy hair around its head.

“Why the color change?” Neil asks as soon as the car stops.

“The Raven’s reputation has been going downhill in the last decade. It’s still one of the most ferocious team out there, but fans don’t support them as enthusiastically as they do for UCS. So we are doing a bit of rebranding to adjust our image to what will attract more fans.”

“Right. Well… I don’t think the little league linked with UCS has his kids trapped in the desert, for a starter. Maybe we should start by changing that.”

Beatrice smiles again and gets out of the car without bothering to address that.

Andrew follows her out, goes around the car and offers a helping hand to Neil. Neil looks at it for a second, before remembering that he no longer has a leg. It’s astonishing how easy it is to forget. And yet Andrew is always there ready before Neil is.

Neil had refused to bring the wheelchair, so he prepares for the intense exercise that is going to await him today. He gets out of the car, manages not to fall on his face, and then accepts Andrew’s elbow, as if Neil was an old grandma taking his grandchild for a stroll.  

The bodyguard also gets out of the car, and starts following them towards the entrance, keeping a distance.

The inside smells new. The walls are all freshly painted, the floors are lucid and unscratched.

“Let’s have a look at the main piece first, shall we?” Beatrice opens the way through a long hallway. The doors bang with a loud echo when they get opened to the majesty of this new, immaculate Eyrie Court. Everything, from the floors to the goals, is either yellow or light green.

Andrew makes a disgusted face, while Neil is reminded of the bright, orange happiness of the Foxhole Court. His heart aches. There is no going back to those days.

At the center of the entire place there is that symbol of the baby bird, with those big eyes open and fluffiness all around. It’s sort of... cute.

Neil feels immediately disturbed by that brief association between Ravens and cute.

“And this way are the locker rooms.” Beatrice turns back and takes the same hallway again.

The locker rooms are much less adorable. The Moriyamas don’t give a shit about how welcoming the place is for the kids. If it isn’t going to be filmed by a camera, stern metal and gray walls are fine.

“And this way is your office.”

Which is just about as welcoming as the locker rooms. Neil pictures himself sitting at that desk, with only a tiny window at his back, for the rest of his life. He sways a little, but Andrew doesn’t allow him to melt to the ground.

Next, they get a look at the storage room and the infirmary. The amount of equipment they have stored is unreal. Every single gear, racquet and ball is of the most expensive kind. Only the best quality for this generation of hostages.

Neil feels like he wants to puke. He also feels like he wants to sit down, because his left hip is currently trying to kill him.

But Beatrice doesn’t offer him any seat. Instead, she proceeds ahead, and starts climbing a set of stairs.

Andrew looks back at Neil with something like concern. Neil has only just now started to climb stairs, but only a couple at a time, and only under medical supervision.

They probably have an elevator. It’s probably, like…mandatory in new buildings like this one. Neil can just ask to use the elevator.

An impression of a grin spreads on his lips. He has grown soft, hasn’t he? A couple of years of peace and security, and all of a sudden he is unable to handle a little pain?

“This is stupid,” Andrew says when Neil pushes to start climbing.

“Aren’t you the one insisting that I do more exercise?”

“Controlled exercise. This is stupid.”

Neil looks at him for a couple more seconds, to check if Andrew is going to give in. Andrew endures his stare for a little, but he soon has enough. He pulls Neil back and tells the woman on top of the stairs: “We are getting the elevator.”

Beatrice pretends to be terribly sorry for not thinking about it herself. She acts like she didn’t even noticed Neil had a prosthetic leg and was hopping around like a baby penguin.

When they finally reach the second floor, they are welcomed with an entirely different style. It is immediately evident that this side of the building is not meant for the public eye. The gray walls are covered in posters hung at kid level about the great accomplishments of the Ravens, and the ex-Ravens that made it to US Court.

A picture of Riko and Kevin hugging after their second little league championship is one of the first one in the hallway.

Neil will shred it before Kevin’s kid can see it.

“This way is the kitchen, only the assigned staff is allowed in there. And here is the cafeteria.” Beatrice points at the next door, but doesn’t bother to get in. Neil has the chance to see four rows of tables and chairs, and white tiles all around. Nothing else.

“Now, this is the private area.” The woman stops in front of a locked door with a little pad next to it. She presses the code in and the door blips, opening after a soft push.

Neil sees the black walls, sees them closing in. He sees the red tube of light down the middle of the low ceiling distorting every line in its creepy hue. Neil's hands are tied to the headboard, there’s a knife at his chest. Pressing, pressing…

“Neil.” Andrew brings him back.

Beatrice is smiling under the red light. She looks like a demon sucked up by darkness.

“We are not doing this. You’re no getting in there.”

When Andrew starts to back off, but Neil doesn't, the two of them stare at each other for an uncomfortably long time.

In the end, Neil gives in first. He speaks in hushed Russian: “I don’t have a choice, Drew. The only thing I know how to do is play Exy, and I can no longer do that. Coaching is the last thing I can be useful at. If I can’t do that, I’ll just be some cripple who knows a lot of Moriyama’s secrets, and that has been known to rat to the FBI before.”

Andrew has a dark look in his eyes. Angry, so very angry. Not at him, Neil knows, but there is no way they can get to the people he is actually angry at.

Neil turns to the creepy lady and takes a step forward. The air feels hotter, the walls closer together, like they want to crash Neil and anyone who dares to cross that path.

“You wouldn’t let me do this if we were walking into Easthaven," Andrew replies in Russian.

Neil stops in his track. Andrew hasn’t left his arm, but he hasn’t followed Neil in his step forward either.

Neil can hardly breathe. “You can’t compare the two things.”

And now Andrew looks really angry. This time, he is definitely angry at Neil. “You don’t get to decide that. Ever. You are not listening to me, Neil. You are not going in there. Now, tell that woman we are turning back, or I will.”

That veiled threat in Russian might have been evident by the look Andrew is sending her way.

Neil lets out a long breath and switches back to English: “We’ll explore this part later. Is there something else you have to show us?”

Beatrice looks taken aback. She doesn’t seem to know what to do. She looks like the kind of person who has never heard the word no in her life, and the first time it happens, her brain goes into short circuit.

“Uhm. I guess, we can come back later. Uhm, so… you can follow me this other way.”

The tour continues on to the other side of the court, where an annex building hosts a classroom with tiny desks, tiny chairs and a blackboard. There is also a small apartment right next to the class, that Neil and Andrew are told belong to the schoolteacher.

Right. The kids are going to go to school in the stadium. That’s not at all problematic.

Beatrice knocks on the door and a thin, tall man appears. He reminds Neil of Tetsuji, by the way he stands like a piece of wood, and the way he looks down on them as if they are an unidentified dirty substance on his shoes.

“My name is Onaga Suji.” He makes a little bow and Neil tries to reciprocate, but his injured leg doesn’t feel like cooperating right now. Andrew remains motionless.

“I will teach math, science, history, geography, English and Japanese.”

“Japanese,” Neil repeats dumbfounded. Right. Of course. Jean and Kevin also had to learn Japanese.

Onaga Suji decides their conversation is over, so he retreats into his apartment and closes the door.

Beatrice keeps on smiling like there was nothing weird about that interaction. “We are only missing your quarters and the kids’ rooms, which are in the section we skipped, and there is also the outside field.”

“Outside field?”

Neil and Andrew follow Beatrice to an exit opposite to the entrance they used to came in. There is an outside field. An entire court with protective walls around it -just as big as the one inside- sits under the blazing sun like nothing is going on. There is a running track around the protective walls, then there are trees planted all around it, benches, fountains, flowers. You can almost forget there is a deserted wasteland just a few steps away.

“What the hell is that?”

“This is the side where we’ll welcome spectators and opponent teams. When the press comes, you should have them find the kids outside, it’s good for our image. Ah, there, see that little pavilion? That’s meant for the Coach.”

The pavilion has a roof that protects it from the sun, it’s placed right outside the court and the track field. There is a table and a couple of benches inside.

This is stupid. The kids will never be able to play in full gear outside without passing out for the hot temperature.

Neil doesn’t say that though. He understands what game they are playing at. This has nothing to do with what is good for the players.

“Is there anything else?” Neil asks, incapable of hiding his tiredness.

“Well, there is the part you wanted to skip, where you are supposed to move your things in within the week. And there is a third floor, but that is exclusively for the investors. Nobody else is allowed inside.”

Neil nods, defeated.

“I already prepared a truck to come to your current house tomorrow. You don’t need to bring much. Your quarters are adequate for your position, but there isn’t much room for storage.”

“I don’t have much to bring.” Neil replies.

“We have enough between the two of us,” Andrew intervenes. “And we have two cats. Your adequate quarters better have room for them too.”

The woman blinks. “Uhm, Mr. Minyard… you’re not… invited?”

Andrew stares back at her.

Neil wants to smile but knows that would probably get him in trouble. Andrew hasn’t even taken a second to ponder it over. Yes, of course I would move with Neil to the fucking desert.

“But... Drew, what about your practice? You cannot possibly make that kind of commute every day.”

Andrew looks at him with so much patience, like he knows Neil can’t help being a little slow. “Neil.” That’s the only thing he says.

Neil thinks they are going to talk about it later and drops it. However Andrew is going to do it, Neil feels like he can breathe again now that he knows Andrew will be with him.

Chapter Text

The day after their little trip to the Eyrie Court, Andrew tells Neil to rest at home while he takes care of the relocation. He leaves with the truck, and Neil doesn’t hear back from him until later that night, when Andrew’s small figure drops on their couch-turned-into-bed.

“Tired?”

Andrew grunts, and that’s all Neil gets out of him for that night.

It’s only when the two of them make the trip back to the court, with Sir and King aggressively meowing in the back of their car, that Neil finds out what Andrew has been up to.

The corridor of nightmares is completely covered in white wallpaper. The red lights have been traded for some regular neon white ones.

Neil takes a step inside. Beyond the secured door, the corridor is long. There are several doors on both walls.

“Did… did you do this all by yourself?”

Andrew is standing behind Neil, but Neil can feel him shrugging. “I dragged Boyd and Raynolds in it too. They had nothing better to do anyway.”

The first door is Neil and Andrew’s new apartment. It’s… well, small. It’s an open space, with bed, kitchen, living room, all jammed into the same room. Then there’s a tiny door at the far end that should be the bathroom, and nothing more. At least the walls are white.

Andrew has already tried to organize their things in some semblance of order, but with little success. There’s too much stuff and not enough space.

The cats are let loose in the tiny space, and then Andrew and Neil are off to take a look at the rest.

The kids’ room is depressing at best. At worst, it looks like one of those deranged orphanages that end up in documentaries. There are five sets of bunk beds, all with black sheets, and then black drawers pushed against the walls, thankfully now covered in white wallpaper.

“It could be better,” Andrew offers. “We can buy some toys, and… colors.”

There is little that can be done for the bathroom. The tiles themselves are black, and it’s not like those can be changed very easily. It’s a big space, with five sinks in a row, and then five stalls for the toilets. Neil goes around the corner to find the showers. There are plastic curtains with some cute yellow ducks covering the stalls.

“These were not there before, were they?”

“No.”

The stalls have been built to be completely open, meaning that anyone who walked in could have seen anything. Neil tries to imagine being eight, or ten, and having to shower naked in front of a handful of peers.

“Yeah,” Andrew replies to his silent shiver. “I wouldn’t have liked it either.”

Neil doesn’t know what kind of kids would join his team, but he already knows for sure he will have a Moriyama to deal with. Neil has no intention of giving that kid any additional opportunities to torture his teammates, either on court or in their private quarters.

The week that follows is filled with a massive amount of paperwork and a lot of handshaking. Turns out, there needs to be a lot of people to keep a stadium up and running, especially one located in the middle of fucking nowhere. Neil is going to work in the lovely company of two cooks, a nutritionist, two gardeners (to take care of that senseless monstrosity of the outside court), two cleaners, a old ugly turtle of a creepy pediatrician, that even creepier teacher, and three security guards. Neil isn’t sure which ones of these are actively reporting back to the Moriyamas but he will assume all of them are, just to be safe.

While he goes around the Eyrie, Andrew follows him like a shadow. The workers give Andrew weird looks, but no one dares to tell him he shouldn’t be there.

And then the day comes. Neil and Andrew wake up early. Neil puts on his prosthetic leg and goes to have a shower in their minuscule bathroom, while Andrew prepares breakfast. Neil’s at a place where he can walk into the shower and almost not risking his life in a bad fall.

After breakfast, they put on some comfy clothes, put on their armbands, and down they go.

Neil is beyond nervous when he and Andrew walk out on the outside court. They have a mumbled discussion about whether they should wait in the pavilion or under the trees. They pick the trees, because that’s where the cars will most likely park.

It’s half past nine. The kids have been told to be there at ten. The shade of the trees isn’t enough to shelter them from the intense heat. The landscape in front of them is nothing but dry ground and cacti.

“Drew.”

Andrew is fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes. The pack is empty, he has stopped smoking four years ago, when Aaron had begged him to after looking at an X-ray of his lungs. He still takes his last pack around, to play with the cap.

“What?”

“I’m gonna be shit at this.”

Andrew rolls his eyes.

“And I’m never going to play Exy again.”

“There is going to be enough Exy in your life to satisfy your little junkie heart, I’m sure.”

Neil doesn’t say anything to that. The truth is: he’s heartbroken. But he understands that he and Andrew have never really been on the same page when it comes to Exy.

Andrew nudges him with his shoulder. “Hey.”

“I’m ok, Drew.”

Andrew laughs. Which is something he has started to do three years and five months ago.

Neil smiles because hearing Andrew laughing, even if it’s at his expense, is the best thing in the world.

Neil nudges him back. “My junkie heart will survive.”

Andrew fidgets some more with the cap of his cigarette pack and then, softly, he says: “There is always Paralympic Exy.”

Neil looks back at Andrew. “Don’t say that.” Neil’s voice is a whisper. “Don’t tell me I could have that, you know I can’t.”  

“If it’s what you want to do with your life, it’s what you should do.”

“You know I don’t get to choose!”

“Because you’re a slave?”

Neil feels slapped by that word. It feels so alien and unfitting. “What?”

Andrew drops the nothingness in his eyes to let his anger come through. “It’s what you are. You don’t get to decide what you do, or where you live. You don’t earn the money you work for. You were born by the wrong people and now someone owns you. If you try to get out of the system, you get killed. What else do you call someone in this position?”

Neil doesn’t have the time, nor the wits, to answer that question. A car is getting closer.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Andrew promises.

Neil would very much rather not, but he knows there’s no escaping whatever Andrew puts on his mind.

The car is raising dust even if it’s moving slowly. It’s a black model, shiny, bulky. Neil knows who’s in that car. He looks at his watch. The princeling is ten minutes early.

The car slows down to a stop right in front of the tree-lined avenue.

Neil breathes in.

The first out of the car is Asahi, the man that came to find Neil at the hospital. Asahi doesn’t look Neil’s way and doesn’t say anything. He walks to the passenger door and opens it.

Jiro Moriyama comes out.

Neil knows he is nine years old, but he looks shorter than what he imagined. He has short, black hair, straight and thick. He is wearing a black suit with a light blue shirt and a striped tie. He isn’t smiling. In fact, he isn’t making any expression at all.

The resemblance with Riko was to be expected, but Neil is still stunned. He can see it clearly in front of him, Riko forcing Neil’s mouth open to spit in it, Riko cutting his chest with a cruel smile on his lips.

Andrew pinches Neil’s arm, and he comes back.

Asahi and Jiro are coming forward, stopping once they are right in front of them. Asahi makes a little nod. “This is Mr. Jiro Moriyama, second son of Lord Ichirou Moriyama.”

Jiro makes a perfectly courteous bow. His expression gives nothing away.

Neil refuses to even think about reciprocating that bow.

“I leave him in your care, Coach Josten.”

Neil nods, and the first thing he says to the little creature is: “Your things?”

Jiro raises his black eyes to Neil’s, “my things are in the truck, sir.”

Neil feels simultaneously mocked, assaulted and old, at being called sir by a nine-year-old.

“You can call me coach. Go take your things.”

Jiro loses a moment to think over what he’s just heard. He has probably never had to take his own stuff with his own two hands before, Neil thinks. 

But the moment passes quickly, and Jiro turns back to the car.

Asahi takes advantage of his absence to glare at Andrew’s for his mere presence, and then to address Neil directly, “I will come from time to time to give Mr. Jiro some extra lessons. We will make use of the third floor, which is forbidden to anyone who isn’t directly tied to the family. Is everything clear?”

Neil manages not to bare his teeth in a snarl. “Crystal clear.”

Asahi nods, looks back at Jiro returning with a big bag over his shoulder, and gives him a little nod too. “Remember to behave as it’s proper for your position, Mr. Jiro.”

Jiro turns his head. “Yes, sir.”

Then Asahi is gone in the car, and the moment after that, the car is gone too.

Jiro looks at Andrew, just standing silently at Neil’s side. He gives him a little bow too, but a briefer version of what he has offered to Neil.

Andrew doesn’t react at all.

Great. This is already awkward.

“You can, uhm… look around the outside court, while the others arrive.”

“Yes, ss-coach.” Jiro scatters away, he runs beyond the shadow offered by the trees and into the blazing sun of the track field.

“Well. That was great. What do you think they do on the third floor?”

Andrew shrugs.

Yeah. It was better not to think about it.

The next car is a red Corvette, and Neil knows what it is because when it appeared on the horizon Andrew said, “fuck, that’s a Corvette.”

From that car comes out a tall man with broad shoulders and a slender kid with light brown hair and blue eyes. The man grabs a little backpack with one hand, the back of the kid’s shirt with the other, and pushes him forward.

Neil has seen pictures of all the kids he is waiting. In front of him, there’s Cedric Hart, eight years old, two years of experience as a backliner in Atlanta, Georgia.

Cedric is firmly looking at the ground while the man pushes him in front of Neil and Andrew.

The man drops the backpack on the dusty ground and turns to leave. “Kid’s yours. Have fun.”

“Ehm…” Neil doesn’t know if he should stop him. Stop him to do what? He came to leave the kid, and he left the kid.

The car door makes a loud sound when it gets shut. The Corvette springs forward, then turns around and bathes all three of them in dust.

“What a charming individual,” Andrew says.

Cedric is still staring at the ground like it’s the most interesting thing he has ever seen.

Neil doesn’t know what to do with him. God, there’s only two of them now, and he already doesn’t know what to do.

Jiro is calmly walking from one fountain to another, with his hands clutched behind his back. He seems calm. For now. But Neil doesn’t send Cedric his way, he has seen how this boy has let that man pushed him like a rag doll. If there is someone that needs to stay away from a Moriyama, is this kid.

“Ok… Uhm, Cedric, right? You can just stay here with me while we wait for the others.”

The only sign that Cedric has heard Neil at all, is him taking a little step to the side, to then stare at the new piece of ground he has stepped on.

Andrew opens his mouth to say something, but he is cut off by a new arrival: a grey, anonymous, family car.

This time, it is a woman and a girl coming out of the car. Neil looks at the girl, her brown skin, flat nose, thin eyes, straight black hair, so long it almost touches the ground… He knows he is looking at Sadie Lu, Thai heritage, one year of experience as an offensive dealer. She does look like the picture in the files, but… she is substantially smaller than what Neil has imagined.

What Neil assumes to be the mother takes the girl’s hand, and starts walking forward.

“That girl is supposed to be eight years old,” Neil says in hurried Russian.

Andrew raises an eyebrow. “That girl is not eight years old.”

Great. So, this is not just Neil knowing nothing about children, she really is too small to be eight.

The newcomers walk under the shade of the trees. The mother is practically dragging the girl, who’s trying her best to be a hinderance. The moment the two reach Neil and Andrew, the girl’s gigantic dark eyes get even bigger. Little Sadie looks up at Neil, she looks from one side of his face to the other and then… she starts crying.

Neil takes an involuntary step back. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.

“It’s fine,” the mother says with a cheerful voice. She smiles politely at Neil and goes: “She’s just excited, that’s all.”

She doesn’t look excited, she looks scared.

“Ehm, this is… Sadie Lu?”

The woman nods.

“Are you sure?” Neil is almost pleading. “Sadie’s supposed to be eight, this…”

“She is eight,” the mother asserts. She purses her lips, and Neil notices only now that the woman’s shoulders are shaking.

A hand falls on Sadie’s head, hard, protective. “She’s strong.” The mother states it with such intensity that Neil is almost tempted to believe it on her word alone, if it wasn’t that Sadie chooses that moment to turn around, grab his mother’s dress and bury her crying face in it.

Neil doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what to do.

The woman takes her daughter’s wrists and tears her away.

“Mama…” Tears fall in the girl’s mouth, there’s snot everywhere.

“Mama’s gotta go, now. You be a good girl.” The woman places one fast kiss on her daughter’s head, she drops the backpack next to her feet, and quickly turns away.

Sadie starts screaming. She stomps her feet, covers her face with her little fists, she crouches on the ground, screams some more, and then she decides that, actually, she wants to run after her mother, so she takes off.

Andrew grabs her by the collar of her dress before she can run right in front of the moving car. Neil gets a final glimpse of the woman before she disappears, and he sees her bawling her eyes out, her face a mess as much as the screaming little girl.

“Oh my God.” Neil is still very useless. “Oh my God, what do we do?!”

Andrew lets go of Sadie when she tries to bat him away. Then the girl drops with her back to the ground, opens her mouth and starts emptying her lungs to the unfair sky.

“Oh my God. Andrew. Andrew! Do something.”

“You are really useless.” Andrew seems almost surprised, like he didn’t actually expected Neil to be this incompetent.

Andrew crouches next to the girl, takes out a tissue and puts it in her little fist. The girl does nothing with it for a while, until she gets too tired to kick at the ground and scream at the sky, and so she raises the tissue to her face and starts smearing tears and snot all over the place.

Sadie sits, her beautiful black hair is a mess of dust and knots. She looks at Andrew and after some consideration, gives back the infected tissue. Then she looks up at Neil, she looks for quite some time, then she starts crying again.

“It’s ok,” Andrew says. “They’re just scratches, he’s not hurt.”

Neil doesn’t understand what he’s saying until Andrew gets up and starts poking at Neil’s cheek. He smears a finger over his scar, pulls and pinches the skin.

The girl stops crying. Her big eyes are fixated on Andrew playing with Neil’s cheek like it’s play-dough.

Right. Neil hasn’t taken into consideration how his scars might make him look like a terrifying monster, for a child. He tries to tell himself it doesn’t bother him. It doesn’t.

“I want mama,” Sadie says, her lip already quivering.

“She left for a while, but she’ll come back later,” Andrew replies. Neil supposes that is technically true, but the way Andrew said it makes it sound like the woman is going to be back any minute now, and that is far from the truth.

That is also what the girl seems to understand from that sentence. Her lip stops quivering but she still makes a point of pulling a sad face.

Andrew goes back to crouch next to her. “We are going to play Exy here. Do you like Exy?”

And the girl looks at him and goes: “What’s Exy?”

Neil feels himself falling through the ground. “She’s supposed to have one year of experience as an offensive dealer!” Neil says in Russian.

Andrew makes a derisive snort. “How old are you, Sadie?”

“I just turned six.”

Neil is going to pass out. He is going to bury himself in the fucking desert.

“Drew!” Neil is panicking.

Andrew takes out his phone and picks the first random video of a match. “Look, this is Exy. Did you ever see it? Did you ever play it?”

Sadie looks at the phone and then shakes her head both times.

“Drew, I’m having a panic attack.”

Andrew looks back at him, observes that he is not actually having a panic attack, and just goes: “Don’t be a drama queen.”

“I’m supposed to take them to nationals! She’s five!”

“I’m six,” Sadie intervenes, supremely offended.

Andrew puts his phone back and stands. “Something is not right.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“The mother was crying,” Andrew adds, switching to Russian to avoid setting off the little screamer again. “Why was the mother crying?”

“Cause she was leaving her FIVE year old with complete strangers?”

Andrew shakes his head. “Why would she lie about her age?”

Andrew and Neil look at each other. A horrible feeling makes his way from Neil’s stomach, up to his throat. All these kids are, in some ways, linked to the Moriyama family. Some are the sons and daughters of associates, and some are the kids of debtors. Jean Moreau had been in that position. His family owed too much to the Moriyamas, and had too little to give. The only thing they had to trade was their kids. So, what happens if you are in that situation but your kid is too little to be useful for their Exy scheme? What then? The Moriyama would have found another use for Sadie.

Neil looks at the little girl, with her dark big eyes, and soft brown skin, and knows exactly how quickly a criminal organization could find use for her.

Andrew seems to have reached the same conclusion at the same time.

“Sadie.” He goes back to the ground and speaks softly. “Listen to me, this is very important. From now on, you are eight years old. Ok?”

Sadie makes an annoyed face. “I’m six.”

“Six years old stay here forever. Only eight years old go back to their mamas.”

Sadie opens her eyes wide in terror. “I’m eight! I’m eight!”

Neil isn’t sure that was the best course of action. He doesn’t like the idea of scaring that little girl, but it was necessary for her to understand the gravity of the situation.

Neil runs a hand through his hair. How is he supposed to bring the team to national when they have an entire player who’s almost useless? There is no way Sadie can keep up with nine and ten years old. But Neil can’t send her back home. Neil can’t… send any of these kids back home. He is only now realizing this. The threat that is real for Sadie might be real for all the others as well. Neil has to keep all of them in the team, no matter what, because as long as they are under his care, they are, at least partially, out of danger.

But Neil is expected to win national with the Hatchlings.

So. He has to win national with whatever scattered team he is going to get. At all costs.

“What do you think is going to happen to me if they don’t win?”

Andrew looks annoyed by that question. No, he looks angry. The kind of anger that Neil knows he shouldn’t poke but has never been able not to.

“What?”

“You said it yourself, don’t play dumb. If you can’t perform this duty for them, you’re just a cripple that knows a lot of their secrets. What grand destiny do you think they’d have in mind for you?”

Neil doesn’t reply.

A slave.

It sounds ridiculous for a man of the 21^st century. Doesn’t it?

Suddenly, he feels months of pent-up anger explode in his chest. This bullshit has been going on since he was born. He thought he put a stop to it by the end of his first college year, but it’s not true. Neil feels like punching something. He needs to step away, breathe and collect himself.

He turns around to walk away and goes bumping into Cedric.

God. Cedric had been there this all time. Neil told him to wait there, and the kid had stayed so still and quiet that Neil had forgotten he was there.

“Uh. Cedric, you… uhm… what we said about Sadie… her being eight instead of six, right? That’s a secret. Ok?”

Cedric nods, never raising his blue eyes from the ground.

Neil’s chance to go scream in his pillow is gone, there are three cars on the horizon, all directed there.

The one in the lead slows down to a halt, a girl comes out of it with a bag, and then the car starts again and leaves.

Admittedly, this girl looks older than the other kids, but it still feels cruel to just drop your child like that when you know you won’t be seeing her for a long time afterwards.

The girl is impossible not to recognize from the files Neil has read. She has short, red hair. Short to the scalp. She has a good build, she’s tall and looks agile.

“Hello, you must be Melody Malcolm.” Neil tries to smile even though he just wants to dig a pit with a shovel and then lay in there for a week.

Melody Malcolm, ten years old, four years as an offensive dealer for Phoenix, Arizona, looks up at Neil and goes: “You’re looking good, Josten.” There’s mocking in her smile, and there’s mocking in the name she called him by.

Neil doesn’t even know what to answer to that. He doesn’t have to think too much tough, because cars two and three have also stopped near the tree line.

The next person Neil notices is another girl coming towards them. She is wearing a yellow shirt and has two thick braids sticking out of her head. There are a man and a woman behind her, trying to keep up with her pace, but they are inevitably falling behind.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS!” The girl’s braids jump up and down when she halts in front of Neil, right next to Melody. “NEIL JOSTEN!” She screams, somehow, with her teeth closed. Then, she looks to her side, loses all color in her face and drops her jaw. “ANDREW MINYARD! YOU ARE ANDREW FREAKING MINYARD! ARE YOU GOING TO BE OUR COACH TOO?!”

Andrew gives her absolutely no reaction. He just says: “I’m here to steal food from the kitchen.”

The girl starts aggressively squeaking: “THAT’S SUCH AN ANDREW MINYARD THING TO SAY! OH, MY GOOOOOOOOOOOD!”

“Can you shut up?” That is Melody Malcolm, looking at her new teammate with the disdain you’d reserve for the worms in your trashcan.

The braided girl laughs. “NO! NEVER.”

The man and the woman finally manage to reach them. The resemblance to the braided girl is unmistakable: same petit nose, strong eyebrows, and thick brown hair.

“Sorry, sorry we’re late.” The man pants. “I’m Tony Parks, this is my wife Lydia, and this is our daughter Judie. Judie, be nice, say hi.”

Judie performs a perfect military salute. “Hi!”

Right. Judie Parks, ten years old. Her file said she has been paying Exy since she could walk. She has experience in almost all roles, expect for goalkeeper.

“Happy to have you.” Neil says, a 100% sincerely. Everything about Judie screams Exy obsessed, which means she would have been a treat to train.

The conversation with Judie’s father is cut short as the people from the third car approach. An Asian woman and a skinny kid come forward.

“I am Theodore Woolridge, pleased to meet you.” Says the kid in perfect English. But when the woman orders him to “go get your bag from the car,” Neil can hear a clear Japanese accent. So. The mother is from the Yakuza and the father from the US mafia?

Maybe Neil is getting too carried away. It’s not like every Japanese he meets is a member of the Yakuza. But the mother is definitely Japanese, and the kid has a very English name, and also looks kind of half Asian, half white, with thin eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses, and dark brown curls.

Once the kid gets back with a trolley, the woman grabs him by the shoulder, whispers something in his ear, and the kid nods obediently.

Theodore makes a courteous nod towards Neil, then towards Andrew, and then he leaves them all behind to run ahead. Neil follows the kid with his eyes. He knows what he’s about to see.

Theo reaches Jiro Moriyama, still walking around aimlessly alone. He says something and then bows deeply.

Neil is too far away to see Jiro’s expression, but he does notice that Jiro is not returning the courtesy.

“Theodore is allergic to peanuts.” The woman says, bringing Neil back.

“We’ll be careful.” Neil mumbles.

“And he is not allowed to talk with the blacks.”

“Sur… wa- what?”

The woman looks down at little Sadie, still spread on the ground, with her hair a mess. She is more brown than black, but maybe the woman didn’t care about such subtleties.

“Uhm. Theodore will need to talk to all his teammates.” Neil is too stunned by this interaction to come up with anything else.

“Theodore knows who he should associate himself with.” The woman offers nothing else. She turns around and leaves. She doesn’t even bother to say goodbye to her kid.

“WOOOW, that was the raciest thing I’ve ever heard!” Judie says, like it’s somehow an exciting experience. She goes to nudge Melody in the side. “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t touch me.” Melody takes a long second to look at Judie with disgust, then she takes several second to look at Neil with disgust, and then she walks away, not towards the Asian kids, but following the line of trees, pointing directly away from everyone.

The next car brings the last girl of the team: Harriet Manning, ten years old, has been a goalkeeper for the New York team for only one year, but apparently, she has shown great talent.

Harriet looks like the most normal of the lot. She has a bob haircut with a blue bow in her hair, and a big polite smile. She doesn’t look like Renee, but Neil thinks immediately of her when he sees Harriet.

Her parents say goodbye, they hug her, leave her with two suitcases, they shake Neil’s and Andrew’s hands, and they take off.

“Hello, I am Harriet Manning, but people call me Harry. I’m excited to work with you, Coach Josten.” She offers him her hand and Neil takes it, relieved for her presence.

When she sees Andrew, just standing there on the side, her eyes light up. She doesn’t squeak like Judie did, but it’s clear that she’s having a moment. She is a goalkeeper after all, how could she not love Andrew?

“Ehm, I’m Harry.” She waves shyly his way.

Andrew nods and says: “I’m Aaron.”

Harry is stunned for a moment, and then she bursts out laughing, all the shyness gone. “You’re not!”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You’re Andrew.”

“I don’t know of no Andrew.”

“HE IS!” Screams Judie, her braids dancing up and down. She takes Harry by the shoulders and starts shaking her. “HE IS ANDREW FREAKING MINYARD! WE ARE GOING TO GET AN AUTOGRAPH! WE ARE GONNA BE THE FIRST PEOPLE TO GET AN AUTOGRAPH FROM ANDREW MINYARD!”

Harry laughs, enchanted by Judie’s enthusiasm. Then she turns to Andrew. “Everyone knows you never give out autographs. Can we really get one?”

Andrew clicks his tongue. “I can’t write. I’m illiterate.”

The girls laugh. They love him already.

Harry tilts her head to the side, smiles just like Renee would, and says, “that’s ok. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” And that’s how Harry won Andrew over in less than thirty seconds.

Harry takes Judie’s hand and looks around. “Why are we all scattered? We should stick together and get to know each other.”

So, Harry takes off with Judie at her side.

Frist, they stop by Sadie. “Aww, you’re so tiny!” Harry says. “How old are you?”

Sadie purses her lips. “Eight.”

“Really! You’re so cute! Do you want to get to know the others with us? You can hold my hand.” Harry gives out her hand and Sadie accepts it after only a moment of mulling the issue over in her head.

Next, they stop by the pillar of silence that is Cedric. Harry somehow senses his uneasiness, and approaches him slowly with a soft voice. “Hello, I’m Harriet, but you can call me Harry. What’s your name?”

“Cedric.” Neil is almost surprised to find out he can talk.

Harry now has Judie in one hand and Sadie in the other. “Judie, you should take Cedric’s hand, we can make a super long train!”

Judie, obviously, takes the offer with much enthusiasm, and grabs Cedric’s hand without waiting for his permission.

“We should go talk to that girl, now!” Harry points at Melody in the distance with her chin.

“She’s an ass.” Judie declares. “Let’s go talk to those boys instead!” Judie starts pulling the entire group towards the Japanese boys, while Harry protests that she shouldn’t call other kids “ass”.

“I might have found my captain,” Neil mumbles following Harry’s blue bow bouncing along the track field.

“You know who’s captain,” Andrew replies with that hidden anger in his voice.

Neil doesn’t want to open that discussion again, so he drops it.

He looks at his watch. It’s ten thirty now. They are missing only two kids.

Neil takes his phone out and quickly text Kevin: “where the hell are you?”

“Almost there, asshole.”

But the next car that pulls over is not Kevin’s. Neil doesn’t know whose car it is, because these people too wait just the time for the kid to get down, and then leave again.

That has to be Ray Guerrero. He has no bag, no suitcase, no anything, just the clothes he is wearing, which have seen better days. He has a worn-out blue sweatshirt and a pair of ripped jeans, even though it’s probably 90° right now. His hair is so fair, it’s almost white. Neil knows he is nine years old, and that he has had some experience as a backliner.

Ray starts towards them with a pissed off look. As he gets closer, Neil notices his incredibly fair eyes. His skin is rapidly turning pink.

“Hello, you must be Ray Guerrero,” Neil smiles.

Ray parodies him with an annoyingvoice: “Hello, you must be Ray Guerrero. What do you want? A gold star? Get out of my way, fags. I have to take a piss.”

Neil is dumbstruck. It’s no secret him and Andrew are together, but generally people are smart enough to take their homophobia to someone less dangerous. Neil recovers before Ray gets too far. “Hey, hold on a second. That’s no way of talking to your Coach.”

Ray turns to them again and raises two middle fingers. He mouths the word “fags” and then smiles like a little devil.

“Mh.” That’s all Andrew says.

It’s eleven.

The kids are camped around one of the fountains and are playing at spraying each other to cool down a bit from the intense heat.

Melody is still walking alone under the trees, and Ray has already managed to get into a fight with Judie, which prompted the group to estrange him from the water play.

Right now, Ray is going up and down the tree line, kicking rocks and staying away from Melody and everyone else.

Jiro is standing at the edge of the group at the fountain, with his hands behind his back, and his tie still firmly bound at his throat. Theo is right next to Jiro, keeping close like a little bodyguard.

Kevin’s Volkswagen appears in the distance.

“Fucking finally.” Andrew has sweat dripping from his forehead. Even though they are in the shade, Andrew should be mindful of spending so much time with that sun out.
“Did you put your sunscreen on? You know your skin is sensitive.”

Andrew sends him a murderous look and starts walking towards the car, too impatient to wait for their passengers to come their way.

Neil follows. Thea is the first one out.

She and Neil have never been close, they have never made more than polite conversation, but Neil still feels like taking a jab at her: “Congratulations on your pregnancy. And your birth. And the various birthday of your kid that we didn’t know about.”

“Oh, shut it, Josten.” This is Kevin. He looks pissed. Like… he looks more pissed than his normal level of pissery.

From the third door comes out Wymack. Oh. Neil wasn’t expecting that.

“You’re here too?”

Wymack keeps the car door open from which a kid scoots out.

David Day is not as tall as you would expect Kevin’s son to be. His hair is un unruly mess of brown curls. His skin is a soft brown. He looks like Kevin, except that he is smiling.

His smile is so big Neil can’t help smiling too.

As soon as David touches the ground he starts hopping on his feet. He looks from Neil, to Andrew, and then back at Neil again.

He grips his father’s shirt and pulls it. “He’s Neil Josten.” His eyes are tingling with light.

Kevin replies with an unimpressed: “Yup.”

David lets go of his father and takes three big jumps to stand as close to Neil as it’s physically possible. He raises those heart-shaped brown eyes. “Neil Josten, Foxes’ number ten, Phoenix’s number nine, scored the most points worldwide in the championships of three consecutive years! You scored standing next to YOUR goal, sending the ball all the way to the opposing team’s goal in the match against the Bearcats on the classification for the Olympics! You played with your wrist splintered against the JD Campbell Tornadoes and WON.”

David makes a little jump again and takes a hold of Neil shirt. “Tell me that you are THAT Neil Josten!”

“Erhm…”

David doesn’t wait for confirmation; he hugs Neil and tries to choke the life out of him. Andrew tries to bolt their way the moment he sees Neil wavering, but it’s too late. Neil’s leg gives out and both coach and tiny player fall to the ground.

“Shit! Neil, you ok?” That’s Kevin. “Goddamit, David! Get off him!”

David gets hauled back and he reluctantly lets go of Neil. Even hanging in the air, little David is still looking at his coach with eternal adoration.

“I love you.” David says, like that’s a word he’s used to throw around. “You’re the best striker in the world.”

Kevin puffs with an exasperated noise. “I am literally the best striker in the world. Like, mathematically speaking!”

David rolls his eyes the same exact way his mother does. “Yeah, I know, you’re good too, dad. But your game’s so boooooring. You just do the same thing over and over, it’s dull. But NEIL!” He wiggles around until Kevin loses the grasp on his shirt.

The kid touches ground again and immediately starts jumping up and down. “You never know what Neil’s gonna do! First, he’s there, then he’s there, then he jumps over here!” Every word is accompanied with David springing in one direction and then another.

Andrew helps Neil come back to his feet.

“Sorry about that,” Thea says. “He calms down at around…” she looks at her watch, “never.”

Neil regains some of his wits. He can’t contain the smile that’s spreading over his face. Kevin notices it, and quite literally tries to murder him with his stare.

“Your child thinks I’m the best striker,” Neil says in French.

“My child thinks the tooth fairy is real,” Kevin deadpans. “And he understands both French and Japanese, even though he can’t say a word of either. So you can drop it.”

David doesn’t seem to have noticed the conversation though, he’s too busy sprinting around, stopping to do jumping jacks, sprinting again. “I’m a ferret, look, look, Uncle Neil, I can go run to the door of the stadium and back super fast, you wanna see? You wanna see? I’m going.”

Kevin tries to grab him before he starts, but he’s not fast enough. David goes.

“Damn.” Neil blinks. “He is fast.”

David runs over the line of trees, over the track field. He surpasses the kids playing at the fountain and he surpasses the pavilion. He totally crashes on the door, then crashes again when he tries to turn around, but then he is going. Neil should have timed that.

“How fast…?”

“He makes 100 meters in 18 seconds.” Of course, Kevin would know that. And there’s no hiding that prideful, smug grin.

“Damn. Refraining from boasting must have been very tough for you.” Neil meant it as a joke, but Kevin actually looks sad. It must have been tough. Hiding something like this from his friends to keep your kid away from danger, only to have him end up straight into the lion pit.

“I’ll keep him safe, Kevin. I promise.”

Kevin nods.

David starts screaming before he even gets to the group, “Did you see that?! See? I’m fast! I can be a striker! Let me be a striker, pleeeeeeeeeease!”

Kevin crosses his arms. “It’s the coach’s decision, you don’t get to choose David.”

David stops next to Neil, grabs his hand and sticks his tongue out to his father.

God, I love this kid.

“We’ll have to test all the other players before deciding your roles,” Neil says, diplomatically.

David says: “Ok!” and lets go of his hand to crash Neil into another hug. This time Andrew is ready to grab him before he can fall.

“Aaah-uh… I have a fake leg, kid. I’m not very stable.”

David lets go of him and starts jumping on the spot. “Yeah! I knoooow! I’ve seen it live on tv. Your leg EXPLODED! There was blood everywhere! Where is it now?!”

“Where’s what? My leg? I don’t know… I guess, the surgeons… Actually, you know what? I don’t want to know what the surgeons did with it.”

David holds his breath and makes a sound like a mouse being killed by a cat. “Human sacrifice!”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Thea replies, tired. “He just watches too much TV.”

“I never watch TV! I always play Exy!” And then, for some reason, David starts doing cartwheels.

Yes, Neil likes the kid, but, suddenly, he feels like he would like to have a break.

Kevin, Thea and Wymack also look like they would like to have a break.

“Woaaaaah!” After falling from one of his cartwheels, David is already too focused elsewhere. “That cactus looks like a squirrel!”

This time Kevin manages to catch him before he scatters. “Please, David, for the love of god, stay still for three seconds.”

David seems to take that request very seriously; he turns his head away from the cactus-squirrel and tries to focus on his dad. It lasts only about three breathes though, then he is all captured by the cactus again.

“Dev, hey. Come here, come, kid. Let’s rest a bit in the car, eh?” Wymack urges his grandchild over.

David starts running before Kevin has a chance to let go him, so the kid sways on the side and crashes to the ground.

That looked like it hurt, but the child gets up, uncaring of the new scratches on his arm, and flees to his grandpa, hugging him tight.

“You’re the best grandpa in the world!”

Wymack laughs so warmly, Neil’s heart feels like it’s melting.

“Oh, yeah? And what about the father of your mother?”

David thinks about it for one, two, three seconds. “He is ALSO the best grandpa in the world!”

The two of them proceed to sit in the car, out of earshot for a while.

“He’s adorable,” Neil says.

“He’s a disaster,” Kevin replies, completely serious. Neil can’t believe Kevin can be so callous to his own child, but when he looks at his tormented expression, he realizes how actually scared Kevin is.

“You understand now? David can’t… he can’t keep his mouth shut. Ever. If Ichirou was ever to come here, David would say something, or do something… I know he is going to put himself in serious trouble.”

“David!” Wymack calls from the car. His grandson is fleeing outside again.

Kevin shakes his head. “He’s fast, but that’s where the discipline ends. I could never get him to remember any drill. His throw is strong and he’s creative but… Neil, half the time he scores in his own goal.”

Oh, well. That can be a potential problem.

“David,” Kevin calls his son.

David comes fast, always smiling like it’s the best day of his life.

Kevin drops to his knees in front of his child. He takes him by the shoulders. David understands that his father is being very serious and tries hard to stay focused on his eyes.

“David, we have to go now, you are going to stay here.”

David nods, he already knew that.

“You are going to be good, and listen to everything Coach Josten tells you, right? Even if you don’t understand why he’s telling you to do something, even if it has nothing to do with Exy. He has the same authority me and mom have, and you have to listen. Understood?”

David goes, “ah-ha,” and tries to take off again, but Kevin’s hands on his shoulders keep him firmly in place. “I’m not done. Look at me. Look at me, David. Some other men might come here to watch you play. You don’t talk to them unless they talk to you, and you will be always extremely polite. Like… like when we played knights and kings together, right? The knights couldn’t just say anything that came to mind to the kings, right? Cause the kings would get angry. Very angry.”

“Yeah, I remember, but I don’t like that game. I like to play Exy.”

“Yes, I know. Please, focus.” Kevin sounds so tired even David notices. His big bright smile disappears and now he looks guilty.

“I’m focusing,” David says, with his eyes squinted like he wants to cry.

“Ok, good. You’re a good kid, David. You know you are. Now, listen. Do you see that child over there? The one with the tie?”

David follows his father’s finger and nods.

“I need you to… just… stay away from him. Don’t be friends with him. Don’t even talk to him.”

“WHAT?! BUT THAT’S SO MEAN!”

Kevin sighs.

“That’s how bullies talk, and I’m not a bully.”

Thea clears her throat. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”

Kevin grinds his teeth. “You’re supposed to be on my side! Goddammit!”

David winces and a sob escapes his lips, “don’t fight!”

“We are not fighting.” Thea comes down on her knees too. Her voice is sweet, like Neil has never heard it. “We are not. It’s ok, David. We know you’re not a bully, and that you want to be friends with everyone, but the thing is, that kid over there… we fear he might be the bully. That’s why we want you to stay away from him, because we don’t want you getting teased and hurt.”

David turns this over in his head. He purses his lips. “Uhm. I’ll stay away from him if he’s a bully.”

Anger takes over Kevin’s features. He hardens his grip on David’s shoulders, “No! You’ll stay away from him period! Because I tell you to! Because I am your father!”

David angrily sneaks away from Kevin’s hold, kicks some dust his way and sticks his tongue out.

And then he is off.

“Guess what he is about to do,” Thea says, with only weariness in her voice.

David is running straight for the fountain, straight for the kid with the tie.

Jiro doesn’t realize he’s being targeted until David is jumping on him. They both end up on the ground. Theodore-the-bodyguard makes such a loud strangled noise that it’s audible even for the group under the trees.

David is pinning Jiro to the ground. Jiro looks like a bomb just exploded on his face.

“YOU AND I ARE GOING TO BE BEST FRIENDS!” David yells, loud enough for his father to hear.

Chapter Text

The adults start running while Neil hops as fast as he can. Theodore is the first responder on the scene though. He grabs David by the shirt, by the neck, by anything that can be grabbed, and hauls him off Jiro. He then rushes to help his little prince on his feet, babbling something in hurried Japanese.

“What did I just tell you?!” Kevin is the next to grab David’s shirt.

Neil is taking half an hour to get there. Luckily, Andrew is already on the crime scene, so by the time Neil arrives, Kevin, Thea and Wymack have already been secluded away from the kids, and they are being kindly informed that they have overstayed their welcome.

“I am his father!” Kevin yells. “It’s my duty to look after him!”

“And we’ll take it from here.” Andrew is as unimpressed as ever.

“You’re not even a part of this, you do realize that, yes?”

“You didn’t seem bothered with me not being a part of this in college.”

Kevin does the clever thing for once, and shuts his mouth. Neil is finally catching up. “Kevin, put David down. You already did enough. Just get in your car and go.”
Kevin looks torn. He looks down at his child, still hovering two feet from the ground. David is defiant, his face says he’s not sorry for anything and he will do it again.

Kevin lowers his hand until David’s feet touch the ground, then he lets go of his shirt. “I am your father,” he says again, like David could somehow forget. “I’ve lived my fair number of years on this Earth, don’t you think I should be granted a little more trust than this? I’m not telling you I know better just because I’m your father. I know better because I’ve been through this before. David. David, please.”

The kid’s face gets twisted into a little sad frown. He looks up at his dad, uncertain. Then he looks to the side, where Jiro is shaking off the dirt from his suit.

Jiro somehow senses David's stare, and he too looks up.

The little prince is giving nothing away. His gaze wanders into Kevin’s direction only for a moment, then his eyes are immediately elsewhere. He quickly turns around and starts walking away from the scene, while Theo follows closely.

“See?” Kevin whispers. “He doesn’t want to be your friend. So stay away.”

David looks like he’s about to cry, and Neil has decided that he has had enough. “Thea, hug your child goodbye, or whatever it is that normal mothers do. It’s already eleven o’clock. The kids were all supposed to be here by ten. We’re already late. I want you three out of my court. Right now would be ideal.”

For some reason, Wymack shots him a proud grin, while Kevin looks like he wants to punch him.

Thea seems to agree that taking Kevin away might be the best course of action, so she kneels in front of her kid and leaves a kiss on his cheek. “We trust you to make the right choice. Right, Kev?”

Kevin grunts.

David ignores his bitch of a father and goes to crush his mother in one of his tight hugs.

“We’ll call often,” Thea promises while standing. An elbow to the side is what gets Kevin out of his bitchy state. He reluctantly swallows whatever he wanted to say and offers David his hand.

They shake hands, which Neil thinks is a bit of a cold goodbye. But then again, what does he know about fathers? Maybe that’s how they’re supposed to do it.

“Goodbye, son.”

David concedes a soft “Bye, bye.” But it’s obvious that he’s still upset with him.

Kevin looks uncertain, he knows it’s going to be a long time before he can see his kid again. After some consideration, he pats David on the shoulder and says: “I love you.” Which feels like hearing a cat bark.

David drops his frown to make space for his gigantic smile. He assaults his father’s chest like a wrecking ball. “I love you too! I’ll miss you! Don’t drink, daddy!”

Kevin’s face gets redder and redder, like he’s ashamed, but Neil thinks that’s probably the sweetest thing he’s ever heard.

The Day family leaves soon after.

Neil rests some of his weight on Andrew’s ready arm. He already feels exhausted. David has easily joined the other kids at the fountain and he’s busy talking a hundred miles per hour. Jiro and Theo are still keeping their distance on the track field, while Melody and Ray are both roaming around alone.

“I need a break from the kids.”

“They have literally been here for an hour.” Andrew is unforgiving as always.

Neil sighs. “ALRIGHT! EVERYBODY HERE!” He claps his hands and he’s pleased to see so many kids jump to their feet and run his way.

Ray takes his time, he kicks some rocks, looks their way to make sure everybody knows he’s aware he should be joining them, and then turns around to kick some other rocks.

Neil counts in his head to ten. Melody does not even look their way. Maybe she is too far away to hear Neil, or maybe she is ignoring him on purpose.

“I’ll go get them!” Harry offers with her hand up in the air.

“No,” Neil stops her before she starts running. “We are going inside. They either come, or they don’t.”

It’s not like they really have a choice. The heat is already unbearable at eleven o’ clock, and it’s only going to get worse. There is nowhere else to go but inside. Neil isn’t going to battle with those two hotheaded brats for something they are inevitably going to do anyway.  

Neil leads the way through the doors of the stadium. The kids are ogling every corner with various levels of excitement. Up at the top of the excitement chart there are David and Judie, who are bouncing and squeaking at everything. Then there’s Harry, quietly content and just generally calm.

Sadie is looking tired and scared and like she is ready to turn back and try her luck scouting the entire desert looking for her mother.  

Jiro and Cedric are wearing twin expressions of pure nothingness while Theo looks agitated, glancing every now and then at his princeling.

Ray is the first one to follow them inside. His fair skin is turning into a painful shade of red. Neil will have to find a way to convince him to put sunscreen on when he goes out. It’s a prospect he already dreads. He can’t even convince Andrew to do it.

Ray doesn’t say anything when he joins the party, he just looms at the back of the group, glaring at anyone who looks his way.

Neil continues ahead, keeping an eye out for when Melody will appear. He takes the kids to see the court first, which has Judie and David scream in delight. Neil lets them run around the place, savoring the shining new floors, the immaculate clear panels of the protective wall.

Harry and Sadie both drop on the ground in the middle of the Court to make a lot of awwwing noises at the baby bird painted there. Sadie pets his head with her first smile of the day.

Neil feels something warm inside. He remembers being their age and living his little corner of safety on the court. He remembers his heart pounding the first time he walked into the Foxhole Court.

Jiro Moriyama doesn’t seem interested in aimlessly running around with his peers, so he stays put with Neil and Andrew next to the entrance. Since Jiro is there, so is Theo.

Cedric is standing just the next step over, carefully inspecting the details of the floor.

Ray has chosen a corner to sit. He is ignoring everyone and focusing only on scratching his redden neck and scalp. It’s not just his clothes that are looking a bit too dirty, his fair hair appears greasy even from that distance.

Their tour continues around the same route Neil and Andrew have taken with Beatrice on their first day.

Onaga Suji is not there when they explore the schoolroom and Neil doesn’t feel like knocking on the door of that creepy man’s apartment. So they keep going to the upper floor, into the now not-so-sinister hallway.

“And this is our private apartment, where you are not allowed,” Neil explains pointing at his and Andrew’s door. “This way we have your bathrooms, and over there is the bedroom.”

“The bedroom? Only one?” Judie asks bouncing up and down, and her braids bouncing with her. “There’s like a bigillion of us!”

Neil would like to agree, but since he can’t do anything about the situation, he decides to ignore the topic entirely.

Once he opens the door to their spacious but desolated bedroom, Neil can clearly see the divide among the group between those who are used to decent living conditions, and those that are used to the general shittiness of reality.  

Ray doesn’t even linger for a second to admire the starkness of his new bedroom. He springs forward and calls dibs on the upper bed furthest away from the door.

The others wake up from their slumber and start exploring what little there is to discover. Everybody has a black trunk full of clean clothes, towels and new bedsheets. The beds have black blankets. There are two windows. And that’s it.

“We’ll decorate it,” Neil offers. He has no idea how to make that place more welcoming, but he’s sure Andrew and the kids will have some ideas.

Once the kids have all picked a bed and a trunk, Neil leaves them some time to settle their things, then he takes them straight to the cafeteria, where the cooks have already started to set the tables.

“I don’t think she’s coming on her own,” Andrew says.

Neil sighs. Again.

It’s been an hour and Melody hasn’t followed them inside yet.

“I should go get her.”

Andrew nods. “I’ll watch them.” And as soon as he says it, David slips on the chair next to Jiro and starts asking all sorts of questions about what food does he like, and how long has he been playing Exy, and who’s his favorite Exy player, and does he collect the Grand Slam Exy Figurines?

Jiro tries to open his mouth to say something, but every time a sound escapes him, it’s immediately drowned out by a new question.

I should separate them. It’s what Neil thinks when Andrew pushes him back and assures him that he’ll take care of it.

Ok. Ok. Time to trust Andrew.

Neil turns his back on the kids and starts the long journey to the outside court.

He finds Melody sitting under the trees. She doesn’t seem bothered by the heat, or by the nothingness around her.

“We are having lunch,” Neil says as he approaches her.

Her head doesn’t move. Her red hair, cut so short and carelessly, is showing some patchy spots. Either however cut her hair didn’t know what they were doing, or they really didn’t care how it was going to look.

Neil digs within himself and finds some patience for this kid. He doesn’t know these children. He has no idea what they have gone through.

He sits on the ground next to her, with a lot of difficult maneuvers.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Leave me alone.”  

“Well, I can’t do that. I’m your coach.”

“You’re not a coach. You’re a defective has-been, that is quickly running out of reasons to not be put down.”

Neil needs a moment to realize the entirety of what he has just heard. He has known from the start that some of these kids were going to be directly tied to the mafia, but he’d wanted to believe that Jiro was the only one really aware of what was going on. Apparently not.

Melody seems to be enjoying Neil’s stunned silence. She leans in with a cruel smile and stretches a hand towards his face.

“You know, they look really good on you, Nathaniel.”

Neil realizes she’s talking about the burns on his cheek, and that she’s going to touch them.

He grabs her wrists and squeezes harder than he intended. He’s getting angry. He’s getting really angry.

“You will call me Coach Josten. And you will get inside. Now.”

A flash of fear goes through her eyes, but only for a second. Then the uncaring smile is back in place. “Or else?”

It’s like she wants to push him over the edge.

Neil is better than this, he knows he is. And yet he can’t help his father’s smile growing on his face. “Melody Malcolm.” Neil ponders, and something finally clicks. “Like Lola Malcolm.”

“You’re not that slow, then.”

Neil shakes his head; he’s still unable to rein in his father’s smile. “I hope she died horribly.”

The girl shrugs. “We all do.”

Neil lets go of her writs. He’s not sure he understands who’s in front of him. How much does she know and who has planted what kind of twisted ideas in her head.

But Melody doesn’t give Neil enough time to consider all of that. She stands up and starts walking towards the stadium.

Neil finds her again sitting with the others at lunch. Andrew is leaning over a solitary small table in the corner, while he lazily watches the eight kids. Two meals have been brought to the coach’s table, but Andrew hasn’t touched anything yet.

Neil sits in front of him and something in his face gives immediately away his state of mind.

“What?” Andrew switches to Russian in a heartbeat.

Neil takes a deep breath. “Melody is somehow related to Lola. Daughter? Niece? I don’t know. I don’t think it matters. She doesn’t have much love for me, apparently.”

Andrew looks her way. “We’ll keep an eye on her.”

Yes. Her, Jiro and Theo. Those three must be the ones that know what’s actually behind that place. Ray is a little pain in the ass, but Neil isn’t sure the kid really understands the situation.  

Ray hasn’t spared a glance for Melody when she had entered, and he doesn’t seem intentioned to waste his time currying favor with the Moriyama kid. Right now, he is busy stuffing his mouth with as much chicken breast as he can possibly fit without choking. Cedric is also eating like it’s his last meal, standing with his face so close to the dish he looks like a dog lapping on water.

The only one who’s too distracted to eat is David, still busy chatting his mind away with Jiro. It’s not really right to say he is chatting with him, but more like at him. Jiro is elegantly eating his chicken with cutlery and etiquette, while David rambles on about this one match he saw once. Jiro offers him a look or a nod every once in a while, but that’s all he concedes.  

“I thought you said you were going to take care of that.”

Andrew is intensely observing a tiny piece of broccoli on his fork like it’s a little spawn of satanic origin. “I have taken care of it.”

“How? By doing nothing?”

“My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy.”

“Don’t start quoting shit to me. This is serious.”

Andrew shrugs. “Is it? They’re not really interacting. I think the more you try to separate them, the more stubborn David will get.”

And, annoyingly, Andrew is probably right.

“Ok, kids!” Neil claps his hands to gather everyone’s attention, after finishing his sad chicken breast. “I’ll give you an hour to freshen up and rest, and then I’ll expect all of you in front of the locker rooms.” Excitement and polite acceptance mix with the open hostility from Ray and Melody.

Everyone stands up and the cafeteria gets cleared pretty fast.

The only one still sitting, incredibly, is David. The kid is bouncing on the chair while hurriedly sticking his uneaten meal in his mouth.

“You haven’t eaten anything yet? You’ve been here for half an hour.”

David gulps down his first bite. “I got distracted. I do that a lot. You can ask my dad, it’s true. Oh, but is it true that you and Andrew are in love with each other? My dad told me. He said that sometimes boys like other boys, like they want to kiss them and do stuff. They can’t have babies though, because only women can have babies in their tummy, like when I was a baby I was in my mother’s tummy, and then I came out from her vagina -that’s how it’s called, my dad told me- and then the doctors gave my mom some blood to drink, because she had lost a lot of it. And I thought that now maybe my mom likes to drink blood. Like vampires do? Only that my mom is not a vampire. I asked her, she said no.”

Neil blinks. He thinks about trying to reply to some of that, but before he can give his best attempt, David is already starting again. “I thought about dressing up as a vampire for Halloween, only, my dad said that maybe this year I won’t do Halloween like always, because I’m here. I’m a little bit sad that I won’t do Halloween with my dad, because last year I wanted to be cheese, and my dad said, “that’s stupid, the other kids will make fun of you,” but I was like, “I wanna do it anyway,” and so my dad bought a cheese costume for me and then he bought a cheese costume for himself as well.”

David stops only because Andrew is snapping his fingers right next to his ear. “You better eat.”

David says, “ok,” picks up his fork, then turns around again. “Is it true that you’re gay?”

“Yes.”

“Is it true that your mom is dead?”

“I don’t have a mother.”

David frowns, turns to his plate again and whispers, “but every baby comes from the tummy…”

Neil is starting to think they should probably leave David alone in the cafeteria, that way he would be less likely to get distracted in conversation.

“When you’re done eating, join the others and don’t forget to come in front of the locker rooms in an hour.”

David nods enthusiastically.

Chapter Text

The children immediately rush to the locker rooms as soon as Neil delivers the uniforms.

When the last kid disappears, Neil slumps a little, like he would like to collapse right then and there.  

“I check on the boys, you check on the girls?” Andrew offers.

Neil comes back from whatever deep thought he was experiencing. He points those striking blue eyes on Andrew and his lips curve in an uncertain smile. “You know you don’t have to do this, right? Like… I’m glad you decided to move here with me, but you don’t have to assist me, this isn’t your duty.”

Andrew patiently waits for Neil to be done with all the idiocy he feels like spouting at the moment.

Neil reads his mood perfectly, like he always does, and his little smile gets bigger. He comes closer and raises his hands to cup Andrew’s face, but stops short of his cheeks, waiting for approval.

Andrew doesn’t need to say yes or no for this. Most of the time, when everything is calm and Andrew is in the present, they can understand each other without needing to speak. This is one of those times, Andrew feels Neil’s palms on his jaw, can feel Neil’s thumbs caressing his cheeks.

When things get more intimate, more dangerous, verbal confirmation is still always necessary, because Andrew can still get lost. He can still forget who’s with him, whose hands are touching him. But Andrew and Neil haven’t been running that kind of risks lately, Neil has been reserved since the injury, which was to be expected, his body went through a traumatic experience.

Andrew could wait. A month, or a year, or all his life. He doesn’t need sex as much as he needs this.

Neil puts more pressure in his hold. His lips move softly.

“I love you.”

Neil feels the need to say it, sometimes. Andrew doesn’t understand why, he doesn’t give any value to the word itself. That word is just a bunch of sounds, it doesn’t really mean anything. Some people believe that the word “love” refers to a universal experience that anyone can relate to. Nothing could be furthest from the truth. No one could feel what Andrew feels for Neil.   

No single word could ever encapsulate everything that they are together.

Andrew squeezes Neil’s wrist. He won’t say “I love you” back, and Neil knows it. He knows why, and he accepts it. He understands that Andrew expresses what’s inside of him through what he does rather than what he says. Andrew won’t say “I love you”, but he would be there always, when things are good, and when things are too horrible to bear. As long as they both breathe, Andrew knows where his place is.

“I’m serious, though. I don’t want you to think you have to do this. You don’t have to be my caretaker just because…” Neil lets go of one of Andrew’s cheeks and vaguely gestures at his prosthetic.

Andrew rolls his eyes. “I was your caretaker long before you lost a leg.”

Neil chuckles. “But what about your practice? I don’t think Coach Quinn would grant you any more time off than this.”

Almost ten years into knowing Neil, and yet sometimes Andrew is still surprised by how dumb he can be. Andrew could open his mouth and explain the obvious, but then he would stay trapped in a very long, very irritating conversation.

“I check on the boys, you check on the girls.” Andrew steps back loosing contact with Neil’s hands.

Nobody looks at him twice when he steps into the locker room. The five boys have spread unevenly, with David and Theo pressing on Jiro on one bench, and Ray and Cedric standing at the opposite sides of the room.

Nobody has drawn first blood yet.

It doesn’t take long though.

Ray takes his jumper off and his pallid skin covered in different shades of black and purple attracts many eyes.

“What happened to you?!” David jumps closer and points right at the biggest bruise, a black spot widening from his shoulder to half of his back.

Ray replies in his nasal mocking voice, “what happened to you? What are you?! Fucking retarded?”

David looks hurt, then he just looks confused. “I was just asking!”

“I was just asking!” Ray parrots him again.

“I thought maybe it hurt,” David whines.

Ray blinks in his direction, speechless for just a second. “Oh, my God. You are really retarded!”

“Would you cut it out?”

Andrew turns to Jiro. That must have been the longest sentence he has heard him speak since he arrived.

“Yeah, cut it out.” Theo offers immediate support to his little master.

Jiro ignores his sidekick and focuses only on Ray. “You have been antagonizing everyone from the second you got here. This is a team sport. Do you think it’s wise to turn everyone into an enemy?”

“Do you think it’s wise to turn everyone into an enemy?”

“Do you just repeat things when you can’t think of a good comeback?”

Ray loses it immediately. He jumps forward with a fist ready.

Andrew sees Jiro tensing and Theo ready to throw himself in the middle, but Andrew is faster. He puts himself between the group and the lonely assailant.

Ray stumbles, hits Andrew on the side because of the momentum and then he remains still, unsure of what will come next.

Andrew turns to the group. “Get ready.” Then he turns to Ray. “Go back to your bench and get ready.”

Uncertainty is quickly lost. Ray grinds his teeth. “Why? You want to get a better view? You want to take a picture so you can wank on it?” Ray smiles trying his best to look confident. He grabs his privates over the pants. “You want some of this, faggot? I bet you like to take it up the ass.”

Andrew gives him absolutely nothing. No expressions, no words, no actions. His mind is going a hundred miles per hour, but on the outside he’s a blank canvas.

Somebody had to have said those things either to the kid, or in his presence for him to repeat them so easily. Andrew feels too disturbed to process what it means.

Ray gets increasingly upset at Andrew’s non-reaction. He turns back to kick the bench, then he takes his own uniform and throws it on the floor.

Andrew knows what Ray’s doing. Andrew has been in that same position far too many times. There are new adults around, and Ray has no idea how far they are willing to go. Not knowing is far scarier than anything they could actually do, and so Ray is trying to push every button he can find, until he will find the one that will make them lose it, and then Ray will finally know how far they are willing to go.

Andrew used to do the same thing each time he got a new foster parent. Sometimes he would trash the house, and all he would get was a slap, and sometimes they would beat him until he passed out.

Andrew remembers how disconcerting it had been, the first time he set foot in Cass’ house. Nothing could get to her. She would keep on smiling, keep on being nice and kind, until Andrew had started to like her, and trust her. Until he had been willing to nullify himself for her.

His own past experience and The sorry state of Ray's skin are more than sufficient to keep Andrew calm and collected.

After stomping on his uniform for a while, Ray gets tired of not receiving any reaction. He puts the uniform on and proceeds to capsize the bench for good measure. He looks Andrew’s way, expecting something. Nothing comes.

Ray mouths the word “faggot”, Andrew shrugs.

Anger takes over him again. The kid launches forward and kicks Andrew’s ankle.

Andrew looks at him, unimpressed. Ray kicks again. Nothing happens.

“You like it! Yeah! You like begin hit, don’t you?” Ray smiles as if he has won that round and decides to retreat.

The others are done putting their uniform on as well, so Andrew gestures them to get into the court. Peace lasts about three steps, then Ray finds a new target. “Oh my God! You can’t tie your shoes!”

He points at Cedric with a gleeful smile and turns to look at Jiro and his lot as if to involve them in the mean joke.

Predictably, the group doesn’t turn on his side.

Ray bursts out laughing anyway. “Does your mommy tie your shoes for ya?”

“Stop it!” David goes back to get into Ray’s face. “You’re being a bully. Stop it! Leave him alone!”

For the second time, Ray is left speechless by David’s naïve honesty. “What?” He mumbles, but only for a moment. “I’m being a bully? What are you? Five? Fucking God.”

In the meantime, Cedric has not given any sign of following the conversation. He is sat on the bench, leaning forward, with his fingers tangled in the shoelaces, but doing absolutely nothing useful with them.

“You four, out.” Andrew orders. Jiro and Theo leave immediately, while David takes a second to glare at Ray.

At last, Ray is left with nothing to do if not follow the others out.

Cedric is still fighting with the shoelaces.

Andrew walks forward and drops to his knees in front of the kid. Andrew had felt a dreadful feeling since he had looked at Cedric the first time.

He remembers how his first therapist had called this: frozen watchfulness. A kid that is clearly alert but doesn’t respond to any stimuli.

“I can help,” Andrew speaks softly. He’s scared. He knows what it feels like to be trapped in that state. He remembers what prompted that kind of coping mechanism for him.

Andrew wants to be wrong. I’m projecting, that’s all. He’s just a shy kid.

No one can have any doubts about kids like Ray; you see them, and it’s clear on their face, clear in their words, printed on their skin. You know they’ve been abused.

But kids like Cedric, the ones that fade into the wall, so quiet you forget they’re there, they’re always just introverted and shy.

“I’m just going to touch the shoelaces. Nothing else.” Andrew wants to be wrong. He wants this kid to just be introverted and shy.

Cedric hands retreat. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t move. He just stays still.

Andrew has never tied shoelaces faster than this. He steps away the second he’s done.

Cedric is staying still. His blue eyes are pointed to the ground.

“You should join the others on the court, now.”

Cedric stands and starts walking towards the Court.

Andrew makes a detour for the bathroom. He rinses his mouth and spits. This sour taste won’t go away. There are horrific images in his head, stuck like a broken projector.

He does everything Bee has taught him over the years to deal with his episodes. Ground yourself, know where you are. The bathroom. There are sinks. White sinks. Temperature helps.

Andrew turns the water to his coolest temperature and sticks his hands under the jet until it gets painful. He can feel his hands now.

Breathe in, seven seconds. Hold. breathe out, five seconds. Again and again, until Andrew comes back to the present.

He turns off the water.

If he will ever be confronted with the embodiment of c-PTSD, he’ll make the most joyous killing of his life.

Once he comes back to the court, he is happy to notice that no one has been murdered yet. Specifically, Ray.

Most of the girls are already there, but Neil is still missing, so Andrew goes looking for him and finds him in the girls’ locker room, struggling with the strings of Sadie’s helmet.

“The smallest helmet we have is still too big for her!” Neil seems very close to a nervous breakdown. It’s kind of cute.

Sadie somehow looks tinier with her full gear on.

“Calm down. We’ll order a new one. And you can’t just leave her hair like that, you have to tie it up.”

Neil looks up at Andrew with a look of horror. “I don’t know how to tie up hair, Andrew!”

Andrew snickers. He unbuckles Sadie’s helmet and sits on the bench with her. “Do you have a hair band?”

Sadie produces one from her bag, but she doesn’t look too happy about it.

Andrew starts passing his fingers through her black hair. “What’s wrong? Why the long face?”

“I want to go home,” she whines.

“You will, but it’s going to take a while.”

“Why?”

“Because before you go home, you have to win many games with your friends.”

“What games?”

“Exy. You throw a ball with a stick and try to make it land in a big basket.”

The girl ponders this for a while. “That’s stupid.”

“Yeah, trust me, I know. How does your mom do your hair?”

The girl replies with various options, and in the end settles down for a braid. Andrew doesn’t have a comb, but his fingers work just fine. Sadie’s hair is magnificent. Black, thin and soft. Andrew can only dream of having hair like that.

“What the fuck.”

Andrew turns his eyes to Neil, who’s staring him down like he has never seen this man before in his life.

“What?”

“He said fuck.” Sadie informs the present audience.

“Since when you can… do that?” Neil asks.

“Braiding hair? It’s not that special of a talent. I gather most humans know how to do it.”

“You’re avoiding the question, Drew. How do you know how to do it?”

“That wasn’t your question.”

“He said fuck.” Sadie must feel like she wasn’t clear enough the first time.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Neil presses again.

Andrew doesn’t know. He might leave Neil hanging for a while. It seems fun. And it’s not like the story of how he learned to braid hair is that fascinating. There were girls in some of his foster homes. He was often bored. End of story.

“Alright, muffin. You’re all done.” Andrew lifts her up from the armpits and lets go of her when her feet touch the ground. He puts the helmet on her again and ties the strings.

“It’s heavy.” She complains.

“But it’s fun. Look.” He knocks on the helmet and the girl giggles when she can’t feel the hit.

Neil looks down at his tiniest player and makes a skeptical face.

“She’s supposed to be a dealer, for fucks sake.” He switches to Russian, and this time the girl has nothing to say about him cussing.

“She’ll never be able to keep up with the others in terms of strength and speed.” Andrew replies. “The only position she has half a hope of making it is in goal. Reflexes can be trained, regardless of how small she is.”

Neil sighs. He puts a hand on his hip, a new reflexive gesture he has acquired with the prosthetic. Andrew guesses he’s in pain. He has been standing for many hours and he’s still not used to this new kind of fatigue. Andrew would go get his wheelchair, if Neil wasn’t such a baby about the damn thing.

“Can you do some exercises with Sadie and Harry at the goal? I’ll work with the rest of them.”

Andrew nods, even though it feels stupid to give confirmation for something so obvious.

Harry is over the moon at training with Andrew, but her being over the moon doesn’t result in jumping all over the place, she’s just contently smiling his way.

The girl is patient and she has already taken a liking to Sadie, acting like a big sister or a surrogate mother for her. Sadie adores her.

Andrew starts the practice by showing Sadie how to hold her racquet. It’s cute how big it is in her hands, but when she gets tired of swinging it around after just five minutes, Andrew remembers that they have to win or else, and it gets increasingly less cute.

Andrew spends the next hour next to a basket full of balls. He throws one directly into Sadie’s net, then he turns, and he throws another one in the goal that Harry is guarding. No mercy for Harry, Andrew makes her run along the entire length of the goal at least a thousand times.

Since Harry manages to catch, like, three balls in an hour, Sadie complains that Andrew is making her win on purpose. So Andrew starts aiming a liiiitle bit off her net, and that’s when Sadie starts to show a new side.

The kid is competitive as fuck.

Every time she loses the ball, she looks at Andrew like that was a personal offense to her entire family tree, and she will not tolerate it. Andrew starts having fun throwing the ball further and further away from her, and just watch her fuming.

Who knew tormenting little girls could be so fun?

At some point, Neil comes have a look at his goalkeepers. “Drew!” He exclaims. “Maybe a little less intense?!”

Andrew isn’t even doing anything, he’s just throwing balls at Harry, from one corner of the goal to the other.

He looks back at the other kids, and sees them all standing in a wide circle, passing the ball to each other at a snail pace. “What the fuck is that?”

“The first day of training of a bunch of nine years old?”

“Yeah, they’re nine, not three. Let them move at least, I would have gauged my eyes out an hour ago.”

Harry takes advantage of his Coaches talking to each other to drop with her back to the ground. She stays there spread like a starfish for a while.

Neil looks at Andrew. “Goalkeepers take a break,” he orders, and Sadie immediately goes for the strings of her helmet to take it off.

Andrew shrugs. “As you wish, Coach.”

It takes another hour before Neil interrupts the exercise in boredom he forced on his player and actually lets the kids play Exy.

Andrew and the two goalkeepers are resting blissfully outside of the protective wall, while the kids try their first simulated game.

Neil takes his seat next to Andrew after he gives them the start.

Jiro, Melody and Cedric are on one side, while David, Theo and Judie are on the other. Ray has been benched after he tried to hit Judie with his racquet.

“What are you going to do with the little terrorist?”

Neil shakes his head. “I would put him in goal to keep him away from trouble, but he’s not very precise. As for the other positions, if he were to play anything other than backliner I think he would get red-carded at every game.”

“So, backliner for Ray. What else?”

“Jiro is the first striker.” Neil says through gritted teeth. They both know this has nothing to do with how good the kid is, the position was already decided before the team was formed.

But even though Jiro didn’t properly earn his position, Andrew judged his game to be adequate for his age. He is well balanced, good strength and aim, and his speed is decent. He isn’t impressive in anything in particular, but he is versatile, which can be far more useful in the long run. He’d probably perform better as a dealer.

“David?”

Neil moves his gaze and lets it linger on Kevin’s son. David is… all over the place. Every time he catches the ball he throws it back with the power of a cannon, making it bounce off the wall and spring into a random direction.

“He’s invented a new position: the distractor. He runs around and over everyone’s feet until no one understands anything anymore.”

Neil is right. David’s team is getting increasingly upset with him. Theo has reached a point where he is actively trying to keep the ball away from his teammate and play as if only Judie was his partner.

“He just threw the ball at the opposing team!” Neil whines.

Jiro, Melody and Cedric have been scoring point after point. They are all playing according to the positions they were used to. Melody catches the ball, wherever it is, throws it a Jiro, Jiro scores a point. Cedric is standing in the backlines. The kid doesn’t ever actively bodycheck anyone, but for the horrible time Theo and Judie are having in getting the ball in the first place, Cedric doesn’t have to do much.

Their first practice ends with the kids sitting in a circle around the painting of the baby raven, and Neil distributing the shirts with their numbers on the back.

He holds up the first one. “Jiro. Captain of the team. First striker.” He doesn’t let anything into his voice.

Jiro stands up with his eyes lowered. He takes the shirt and goes back to his spot.

“Number two: Theo, backliner.”

Theo looks confused. He looks back at Jiro, then up at his Coach.

“Problem?”

“But…” Theo really wants to say something, but it seems like protesting authority goes against his very nature. “Who’s going to be the second striker, then?”

“David.”

Theo opens his mouth wide.

David jumps to his feet. “YEEEEEEEEAH! Striker! Can I have the number two? I wanna be number two! Like my dad!”

Neil looks sick at the idea, but it also looks like he has no clue how to explain to David why his father had grown to despise his number two.

“Oh, please, Theo! I know Coach gave you the number two, but please, can I have it? I want to be number two like my dad!”

Theo purses his lips. David is failing to read Theo’s inclination for him at the moment.

“I don’t care what number I get.” Theo says, with his version of a venomous tone, which is still very weak for Andrew’s standards.

“Whoooohooo!” David jumps up and tears the shirt away from Neil’s fingers. “Thank you, Theo!” Then he turns back to the circle and goes straight to crash Theo in a hug.

“Alright.” Neil says, even though, from his voice alone, Andrew knows he is far from alright. “Theo, number three.” Theo straightens up his uniform after David has crumpled it and moves to take his shirt.

“Sadie, goalkeeper, number four. Number five, Melody, offensive dealer. Number six, Cedric as a backliner. Harriet is number seven, goalkeeper. Judie is number eight as a defensive dealer. And Ray, number nine, as a backliner.”

Everybody has their shirt.

There’s still a tense silence on the court.

“I apologize, but I think you are making a mistake, Coach,” Theo speaks up.

Neil looks down at him and his expression is not kind. “You think you should be the striker? How come? I’m sure Jiro can survive without you on his side for the duration of a game.”

Jiro pointedly looks at the floor.

Theo turns red. “This isn’t about Mr. Jiro.”

And that’s when Neil loses it. Theo sees something going through his Coach’s eyes and from red, he goes very, very pale.

“Let’s get one thing straight, kids. There are no Mr., no Sirs, no Madam or anything else, here. You are all children. No one here is worth more or less than any other. Is that absolutely clear?”

The unified “yes, Coach” that ensued is hiding many different hues.  David, Harry and Judie have been enthusiastically agreeing, Melody has been mocking, Ray has been parroting, Sadie hasn’t even realized she was supposed to say anything and remained quiet. Theo and Jiro have been answering with mindless obedience.

“Ok. Everybody can go wash up, now. Dinner is at seven. I beg you, don’t kill each other until then. You’re dismissed.”

Neil waits for everyone to clear the court before slipping to the floor.

Andrew tilts his head to look down at his idiot. “Can I go get the wheelchair, now?”

Neil sulks. “I’m fine.”

Andrew kicks him in the side.

“Ow.”

“Still fine?”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

Andrew prepares for a second kick.

“Ugh, go take the fucking wheelchair!”

 Andrew goes, feeling smug.

Chapter Text

Andrew has somehow thought that putting the children to bed would be the easy part. The problems start with Ray, as they apparently often do. He refused to shower after practice, and he is currently refusing to brush his teeth, now that dinner is over.

Andrew doesn’t want to push him, he knows how abuse can affect the ability to take care of your own body, but he also doesn’t want Ray’s teeth to rotten.

Andrew takes Neil to the side after his fifth attempt of convincing Ray with bribes, threats and bribes again, with no success.

Andrew tells Neil what he saw in the locker room, about the bruises on the boy’s back and the disturbing sexual talk. Neil isn’t surprised. He just looks very tired.

“What do we do?” Neil asks.

We wait for Ray to name names and then we go on a murder spree, Andrew thinks. He has been thinking about that giant bruise since he saw it. He has imagined what could possibly cause such a big mark. He's imagined a man’s foot stepping on the boy’s back over and over.

But Andrew’s murdering aspiration will have to wait. They have an issue to solve right now.

“He’s trying to get a reaction out of us to test us. We can’t lose it. We have to remain calm.”

“Yes, ok, but what about the teeth?”

Andrew isn’t sure, but what comes out of his mouth is: “I’ll take care of it. You put the others to bed.”

Neil looks relieved. He leaves the bathroom behind and starts for the bedroom. Andrew goes back to the sinks where Ray is pressing his hand over the spray to make water flow on the floor.

Andrew steps on the puddle and turns the water off. “Why don’t you want to brush your teeth?”

“Why don’t you want to brush your teeth? Stupid fucking faggot.” Ray turns the water on again.

Andrew realizes this line of action won’t work. For a starter, Ray is a severely abused eight-year-old; he most definitely doesn’t know why he does what he does.

But Andrew might have a vague idea.

Ray has tried all day to get someone to hit him or yell at him, without success. So now he is setting his foot down on something that Neil and Andrew can’t concede. If they physically force the toothbrush in his mouth, he would have gotten the violent reaction he was trying to provoke, if they dropped it, they’ll demonstrate they don’t give a shit about his health. Either way, Ray gets to have his vision of the world confirmed, and life would be predictable again.

Andrew knows what he has to do, and he understand it won’t be a nice ride. He leans in over one of the sinks and starts, “you really can’t go to bed without brushing your teeth. You could get tooth decay.”

Ray replies with insults and by flooding the bathroom a little more.

“I’m afraid you can’t go to bed until you brush your teeth.” Andrew wants to add that he is very capable of doing this all night, but he can’t. If it turns into a power struggle, Andrew could really expect to do this all night.

Ray acts like he doesn’t care. He presses his hand on the spray so that the water hits Andrew, and then he comments about Andrew being wet for him.

I’ll murder whoever taught this child to say such things. That thought makes Andrew feel warmer, it gives him the strength to keep insisting for the next half an hour.

Neil comes to check on him, but a quick look is sufficient to send him away. If they change strategy now, they’re all lost.

Ray starts being restless after an hour of Andrew asking him to brush his teeth.

“I’m done! Who gives a shit?! I’m leaving!” He starts walking towards the door, but Andrew puts himself in front of it.

“You have to brush your teeth first.”

Ray hits him. It’s the punch of an eight-year-old, it doesn’t do much damage, and Ray knows it, it only angers him more. He kicks, he punches, he grabs Andrew’s clothes and tries to tear them.

Andrew is blocking the door and nothing else.

The boy screams in frustration and retreats. He goes for the stalls and kicks them. When Andrew saw him do stuff like that, it was always to get attention, but this is different. Ray is kicking like he wants to demolish the place. He doesn’t care who watches, he has lost control, he’s overpowered by his anger and has no idea how to come back from it.

Andrew has needed years and years of therapy to learn how to do that.

Exhaustion is what stops him. Ray slides to the ground and stays there, panting. Andrew doesn’t look his way; he grants him the privacy he wished he could have had when he was the one to lose control.

It takes some time before Ray stands up again. Andrew thinks he might have heard him sniffling, but if he did, it was immediately quenched. Ray reaches the sink. He spends about ten seconds brushing his teeth and then he’s done.

Andrew knows the shitty job he did at brushing his teeth is his last act of defiance. He can’t afford to do anything else, right now. He is past his snarky remarks, at this point.

Andrew moves away from the door. He doesn’t say anything, no good job, or see? It wasn’t so difficult, was it? Because Andrew knows very well how difficult that has been for Ray.

The boy leaves the bathroom without looking at Andrew.

The worst part is: Andrew isn’t even sure he did the right thing. He doesn’t know if there were other ways, gentler ways, that could have made that experience less stressful for that kid.

“Did he do it?” Neil is still awake, waiting for him. King Fluffkins is bathing in his cuddles while Neil sits on their bed without his prosthetic.

“Yeah.” Andrew is soaked and covered in tiny bruises.

“Wow. Did you have to waterboard him?”

Andrew nods and proceeds to the bathroom. He has just enough time to get changed before a loud wail erupts from the hallway. It sounds like Sadie.

“No!” Neil cries. “It took me ages to put her to sleep!”

“If you say it like that it sounds like you murdered her.” Andrew starts going for the door.

“What are you doing?” Neil sets King aside and scoots on the edge of the bed.

“I’m going to check on her,” Andrew replies.

“I can do it. You already took care of the terrorist.”

“You took your leg off; it’ll just be quicker this way.”

Neil opens his mouth to protest again, but in that moment his phone rings. “Ugh. It’s Kevin.”

“There. You talk to Kevin; I talk to the six-year-old. Same level of energy required.”

When Andrew reaches the bedroom, chaos has already ensued. Harry is by Sadie’s bed, trying to soothe her, David is pressing his pillow over his ears and he’s howling to “make her stop! Please, make her stop!”

Ray is kicking his blankets from the last upper bed and he's screaming at the top of his lungs to “SHUT UUUUUP!”

Melody, who’s sleeping right above Sadie, is looking down at the child with a stare that promises imminent homicide.

Andrew evaluates the situation as quickly as he can and decides that the best solution is to temporarily remove Sadie, before someone tries to assassinate her.

“It’s ok, Harry. Go back to bed.”

The girl looks both uncertain and relieved.

“Sadie,” Andrew calls. “I’m gonna pick you up now, ok?”

Sadie stretches her arms, like she wants Andrew to pick her up. That’s a feeling Andrew has never experienced before. It’s a mixture of both terror and gratitude.

Kids trust so easily, and Andrew doesn’t feel deserving of that trust.

He picks her up. Gently. As gently as someone like Andrew is physically capable. She grips his clean shirt and immediately stains it. She’s crying directly in his ear, pressing against his chest.

Andrew feels overwhelmed by something he doesn’t know how to name.

He takes Sadie away from the bedroom and away from the private area of the stadium. He pats her back as he goes, like she’s a baby.

“I want my mom! I want to go home!”

“I know, I know.” Andrew replies, even though, well… he doesn’t really know. He has never cried for his mother, for his home. He had spent part of his childhood crying for something, a need without a target.

They reach the coach’s office, and there Andrew drops on the chair and continues to rock her, to pat her, until she’s too exhausted to even cry.

She falls asleep at some point, but Andrew doesn’t feel like risking her waking up just yet, so he waits on the chair a bit longer.

Neil finds them there. He peeps at the door and squints at the bright light.

“You’re here,” he whispers. He has put the leg back on, the moron.

Neil waits by the door frame looking into the room with some sort of curiosity that Andrew doesn’t understand.

He looks at Sadie, and then at Andrew. “You… I’ve never realized you were so good with children.”

He looks at Sadie again, and up at him. Andrew knows exactly what’s going on in his monkey brain. He would be wondering whether Andrew wants to have children, then he would feel guilty about never even addressing the issue. The scary thing was that if Andrew ever admitted to wanting children, Neil would probably find a way to procure him a baby the next day.

It was disconcerting how Andrew’s every need was considered absolute and indisputable for Neil. Disconcerting and marvellous.

“Stop it,” Andrew says, before Neil’s brain takes him into dangerous territory.

“I wasn’t even doing anything.”

“You know you were.”

Truth is Andrew and fatherhood are as estranged as water and oil. It’s just how things are. Before you take such a big decision for another human being, you have to take a hard look on yourself and be honest.

Andrew has still days where all he’s capable of doing is laying in bed. There are days when he can’t bear to be touched. He knows he could never give a bath to a child or changing a diaper.

“Drew. You’re the one who’s doing something now.” Neil smiles.

Andrew starts to slowly get up from the chair. Sadie is a dead weight in his arms. She’s drenching Andrew’s shirt in saliva.

“We will talk about this.” Neil promises.

“We don’t need to.” There is no point. Even if Andrew’s mental health was ever at a point where he can take fatherhood into consideration, and even if Neil was ever going to suddenly get rid of his plain terror for children, they still won't do anything about it.

Because Neil is a captive, and you don’t voluntarily take a child into a hostage situation.

Andrew has a nice dream that night. He doesn’t remember exactly what it was about when he wakes up, but that warm feeling of peace stays with him after he opens his eyes.

It’s morning. Through the window, the desert sun is already blasting into their living room/bedroom/kitchen. Sir is napping next to Andrew’s side. King has slipped between Neil and Andrew like he always does, the little homewrecker.

Neil is sleeping. His auburn hair needs a trim. Locks of hair fall on his forehead and over his closed eyes.

Everything is quiet.

Andrew remembers a flash of that dream: they were together at the table, it was breakfast. They were smiling, they were safe.

Neil scoots closer mumbling something incoherent. Andrew turns on the side to admire him better. The scars on his cheeks have faded over the years. They are still very visible; people still turn to look at him twice when they meet him. The Foxes joke that it’s because he’s hot. He is hot. But he also has visible scarring on his face.  

It was Neil’s decision to not have them removed. Andrew can understand why.

He raises his hand to Neil’s hair, and his eyes fall on his own arm, bare, like it always is when he is alone in bed with Neil.

Andrew’s scars have also faded with time. They look smaller, paler, as if to remind him that the pain has also become smaller, also paler.

Andrew feels Neil’s hair through his fingers, and he is happy. He’s happy to be alive.

He’s grateful to the kid that he has been, that horribly hurt kid, for not giving up, for choosing to live, for choosing life with each breath, so that Andrew could get here one day.

Neil mumbles as Andrew keeps going trough his hair. It’s like a cat purring.

A slit of a blue eye hatches. Neil tunes on Andrew’s good mood and cracks a sleepy smile.

Andrew pushes on his elbow and hovers over his precious idiot. Neil opens his eyes completely, gives him a nod and waits.

Andrew kisses him, savors his lips, his tongue, his mouth. Neil lets go of a soft moan. His morning voice is huskier, deeper.

Andrew rises his weight and rests an inch away from him. Neil’s smile immediately breaks into a laugh. He pushes Andrew’s face away. “Your breath stinks!”

Andrew takes Neil’s wrists, pins them on the pillow and breathes deeply into Neil’s face.

Neil coughs, squirms and dies.

“And you smell like peaches.” Andrew retorts.

Neil pushes himself up and, even with his wrists trapped, manages to leave a kiss on Andrew’s cheek. “I know I do.”

King takes advantage of the commotion to climb his way up on Neil’s chest and to take his place over the iron burn. Some years ago, they noticed that the cat's littlest paw pad fitted perfectly into the holes left by the iron.

Andrew lets go of Neil’s wrists so he can grabs the little fluffball and guide the cat’s paw over the burn, over one of the holes.

Andrew strokes Neil’s hair again. Sometimes he wishes he could have words to express what he is feeling, anything that would allow him to erupt on the outside what he is so strongly feeling on the inside, like right now.

Neil chuckles pushing the cat away, “I’m an idiot.”

He is, but this is the last reason why. Andrew is glad that, sometimes, when Neil looks in the mirror, what he thinks is how their cat’s paw fits in one of his scars. Sometimes he doesn’t think about his father, or about Lola, or Riko.

They are both healing. Slowly. So very slowly, but they are.

Their paradise morning lasts about another five minutes, then the kids start screaming.

Oh, that’s what Andrew’s dream had been about. Now he remembers the breakfast table filled with screaming kids.

“Oh my God,” Neil mumbles hiding his face in the pillow.

Andrew is happy. He can’t help it. It’s a feeling so big it seems like it’s exploding outside of his body.

“Drew,” Neil calls him, there’s mocking in his voice.

Andrew covers his face with his arm.

“Are you fucking smiling right now?” Neil is on him; he shoves the arm away and Andrew tries his best to tuck away his smile.

“I can’t believe this. We are woken up by screaming kids, and you smile?!” Neil is trying to look outraged, but Andrew knows that every time he smiles, Neil goes to seventh heaven.

The kids yell again, and this time it sounds like they are about to kill each other, so Andrew decides it’s time to get up.

“Woah, woah, hey! Give me a second!”

Andrew scoops up Neil’s prosthetic and hurries to help him. They put on the first shirts they can find and slip their armbands on. It takes a stupid amount of time to do it, and then they are rushing to the kid’s bedroom.

They find David yelling, Judie holding a bloody nose, Harry holding her back, and Ray screaming from the opposite corner.

“What the hell is going on?!” Neil barges in first. The yelling cease for a second, then they are all focused on screaming at him all at the same time.

Andrew catches some words here and there, but in no coherent order.

“Ok, ok, everybody, SHUT UP!” Neil himself seems surprised when silence falls. “What happened? One at a time!”

The first to break the truce is Ray. He takes one aggressive step forward and points at Judie. “She’s a cunt!”

Judie growls trying to break free of Harry’s hold. Her braids are loose, and her hair is sticking out in every direction in thick brown curls. Her nose is still bleeding but she doesn’t seem to care.

“That’s not a fucking explanation, Ray. Who started it? Why?” Before they can all start screaming again, Neil holds his hands up and points at Judie. “You. What happened?”

The girl takes a deep breath. “Ray made shitty comments about Cedric.”

Ray laughs. “He’s a fucking bed wetter!” The boy looks around the crowd like they are all insane. “He literally pissed in his bed!”

“Well, you didn’t need to make him feel bad about it!” Harry intervenes.

“You have to say sorry!” Yells David. “You made him run away.”

Andrew looks around the room at the same time Neil does. Cedric’s bed is empty, it is indeed wet, and the boy is nowhere to be found.

They exchange a look.

“Harry, take Judie to the infirmary, please. Ray, the next time you raise your hands to a teammate you’ll spend the next three practices running around in a circle.”

Neil and Andrew hurry out of the room with Ray’s voice behind them screaming that he doesn’t give a shit. Good for him, they have more pressing concerns at the moment.

“Where the hell could he go?”

Andrew picks the most obvious choice first. The bathroom is quiet and dark. Andrew turns the light on, he walks towards the toilet stalls but none of them are locked.

“It’s ok, Cedric,” he speaks in the gentlest voice he has. “No one is mad at you. You can come out.”

Not a sound.

Andrew pushes the first door a little bit, quickly peeks and tries with the next one when he doesn’t find anyone. The toilet stalls are all empty.

Neil points at the showers, the curtain of the last one is drawn.

Andrew approaches the colorful ducks. He opens the curtain slowly, trying to minimize the scraping sound of the metal rings against the bar.

Cedric is huddled up in a ball in the corner. He’s not crying, and he doesn’t look upset. He doesn’t look anything.

“Hey.” Andrew crouches. Maybe he should have let Neil do it. Neil could have smiled and tried to look reassuring. “You’re ok. Everything’s ok.” Andrew is just babbling without thinking now. “You’re not in trouble.”

Even with his legs gathered to his chest, Andrew can see his pants are wet.

“I’ll get him a change of clothes.” Neil offers. His voice is… troubled. Andrew gets a glimpse of his expression before he turns, and Andrew sees him worried out of his mind.

Then Andrew is not going insane. There is something to be deeply worried about here.

Andrew still wants to be wrong. He tells himself that kids wet the bed all the time for all sorts of reasons. This isn’t necessarily about sexual abuse. Even though many kids that go through sexual abuse wet the bed.

The kid needs to wash himself now. That’s what Andrew should focus on. The present.

He glares at the curtains, realizing there’s no way he’ll force this kid to strip only behind a thin layer of plastic. They should have installed proper doors with locks.

“Ok, I’m going to… I’ll find some water bottles and you can get washed up in one of the toilet stalls. You can lock it; you can take as much time as you need. Is that ok?”

Cedric gives him the littlest nod, staring hard at his knees.

“Don’t worry about pouring water on the floor, we’ll clean it later.”

Neil comes back with clean clothes, and he’s immediately sent back to find some water bottles.

Once the kid is locked in the stall, Andrew and Neil start whispering in hurried Russian.

“What do we do? We can’t just… there’s something wrong, isn’t it? Drew, what do we do?”

“We install some fucking doors on those showers. And then we keep him here. Him and Ray. They don’t leave our sight until we know who did what. I don’t care about Christmas break or some other nonsense, they are not going back.”

Andrew remembers the man in the red Corvette, how he had grabbed Cedric’s shirt and dragged him around like a rag doll.

Neil is nodding mindlessly. He seems very far away.

“And we should probably buy some waterproof mattress protectors. I have a feeling this will happen again, and getting piss out of a mattress is a bitch of a job.”

Neil looks up at him, wondering.

There are many details about his own childhood that Andrew has never discussed out loud. It’s not a voluntary omission, it’s just that… that’s what abuse does. It gags you; it robs you of the ability to tell. Maybe that’s why Andrew has always felt so disconnected with words.

Neil was no stranger to this. His report of childhood events was often limited to “that was rough”, “it was the worst” and “pretty scary, yeah”.

Andrew is working hard on this with Bee. Their sessions are more stretched than what they were once, they only meet once a month, or once every two months. After so many years, Andrew has become pretty independent in his therapy homework, he doesn’t need so much guidance anymore. Right now, he is trying to open up more, he’s trying to loosen the gag, and this is a good opportunity to do so.

“Yup, I wet the bed until I was eleven. It’s a great unconscious strategy, actually. The stench is very effective against pedophiles.”

Neil makes a face. Andrew knows the disgust isn’t reserved for him. The heaviness that takes over Neil is, tough.

That is another reason why it’s so hard to get rid of the gag. If you are aware how heavy this stuff is to bear, how can you voluntarily pass it on to someone else?

But Neil is sturdy, Andrew reminds himself. He can take the hit and keep standing. He’s been through hell too, that’s why they can hold each other up.

Neil surrounds the lower of Andrew’s back with his arm but doesn’t make contact. He waits for Andrew to decide if he would find comfort in his hold or not.

Andrew leans back and the embrace closes. Neil points his chin on Andrew’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

Andrew feels his rapid heartbeat slowing down. “For adopting the skunk strategy?”

“For everything that you are. And ever have been.”

Chapter Text

When they sit at the table for breakfast, Ray tries to join them, but Judie shoves him away. David isn’t sure what to do, Ray has been so mean to Cedric for no reason, but it almost looked like that was his attempt to make friends with the rest of them. It’s sad that Ray thinks he needs to push Cedric down to be friends with them.

So, David doesn’t know what to do. He thinks that maybe, if he tries really hard to be Ray’s friend, he’ll stop being a bully.

“You can sit here, if you want.” David points at the empty chair to his left.

“I don’t care to sit with you losers. Eat shit and die.” Ray finds a seat at the edge of the table, alone.

“You should just ignore him.” Jiro, the first friend David made there, whispers from the chair on his right. “He wants attention, that’s all.”

Jiro is very soft spoken, which means that he speaks softly. He smells nice, like David’s mom, and he has congratulated him on being picked as a striker, so David likes him a lot.

“But… that’s not a bad thing.”

Jiro makes a face like he doesn’t understand what David means.

“It’s not a bad thing that he wants attention. It’s not like… if he wanted to steal or break things. Attention’s not a bad thing.”

“I suppose…” Jiro is playing around with the food in his plate, looking down at his eggs. “I suppose you are right, in a way. But there are proper ways to ask for attention, and then there is… what he does.” His chin points vaguely in Ray’s direction, where the boy is doing some very nasty gestures to Judie.

“We should teach him the properly ways, then. It’s sad that we’re not all friends, we should all get along.”

Jiro leaves his egg alone to point his gaze at the other side of the table, where Melody is also eating away from the rest of the group. “Not everyone can be a friend, David. Some people repel who is around them for good reasons, because they are not meant to live with others.”

“That’s horrible! I don’t like it. No one is meant to be alone. Being alone is super sad. Who are you going to play with if you are alone? I know you can play games when you are alone, but it’s not fun. Like, I can play dodgeball by myself if I have a wall, but then I feel super sad, because I wished there were some friends playing with me. I know that sometimes kids want to play without me, and my dad says it’s fine if sometimes kids want to play without me, but it doesn’t feel fine, it feels like they hate me. And if I think that, then I think I want to cry. And I don’t want Ray to cry because he thinks we hate him. Even if he’s a bully.”

Theo leans from his seat next to Jiro and says in Japanese: “Is he bothering you? I can make him shut up.”

David blinks feeling like Theo just slapped him. Why would he say that? David wasn’t trying to bother Jiro.

Jiro lowers his voice to reply in the same language. “It’s fine.” Then he turns to David, and he smiles. It’s a tiny smile, like he’s not used to smile a lot. “How do you play dodgeball with a wall? I’ve never tried.”

David lights up, he has so many things he can say about this. He starts by explaining the logistics, but then he gets lost recounting how he came up with the rules, and how he had been in Palmetto when he did, and his grandpa was there. Then he starts talking about his grandpa, and that he has tattoos, like his dad. His dad has a tattoo on his cheek that is a chess piece. His grandma had tried to teach him to play chess, but David thinks it’s super boring, he’d rather play outside. But his grandparents don’t have a big garden or anything, so David can’t play outside most of the time. But his grandma bought him a trampoline to put in his bedroom, and David likes it a lot.

Cedric comes into the cafeteria interrupting David’s story. Everyone turns to look at him. He’s wearing a fresh white shirt and a new pair of comfy pants. He walks with his eyes lowered and chooses an empty chair at an empty table.

“Don’t piss on the chair too,” Ray laughs.

Judie jumps to her feet, but instead of hitting Ray with a punch, like it looks like she would like to do, she takes her plate and moves to the other table, next to Cedric. Harry follows her, and Sadie does too, always keeping an inch away from Harry.

“Enjoy the piss.” Ray is trying to look unbothered.

“Are you stupid? YOU’RE THE ONE WHO’S EATING ALONE, ASSHOLE!” Judie yells a lot. She yells when she’s happy and when she’s angry.

The coaches come into the cafeteria in that moment. “Let’s play the game of everyone shut up for five minutes, thank you.” Says Coach Josten.

Judie eats her next words. Ray looks smug, like he won that round.

David doesn’t think that he won. He really is eating alone after all.

“David.”

David jumps on his chair and looks up at Uncle Neil.

“The cafeteria closes in ten minutes, and you haven’t even touched your food.”

Right. David has forgotten he was supposed to eat, even though he woke up hungry. He takes up his fork and tries to make up for it as quickly as he can, which results in him almost choking twice.

“Coach Josten.” A new voice booms from the door. It’s a tall man with dark hair and an unhappy look. “I expect the children to be in the classroom by 7:30 am. I will return them to the Court at 10:30 am.”

Uncle Neil gets up to go and talk to the man.

“Who is he?” David asks to no one in particular. “We have to go with him now?”

“He’s Mr. Suji,” Jiro replies. His voice is so soft, David needs to lean into him to hear him. “He will be our teacher.”

“SCHOOOL?! WE HAVE TO DO SCHOOL HERE?!”

The coaches and the teacher turn to him. Jiro looks down at his empty plate like he doesn’t have anything to do with David's unruly behavior, which David thinks is fair.

“Ehm, I mean… we have to do school, here? Wow, I didn’t know.”

Mr. Suji stares down at him, then he looks at every child one by one. He is not smiling.

“I will be your teacher from now until the duration of your stay on the team. You will address me as Mr. Suji. I will expect you at the classroom every day, starting from 7:30am. I will evaluate you in a number of different subjects. I expect focus, silence, and obedience.”

David feels like sliding down to the floor. Focus, silence, and obedience are the three things he is bad at.

The group is quiet. Everyone is looking at the teacher like he’s the monster from under their beds. Well, not everyone. Melody didn’t even stop eating.

Ray though, he looks scared. David hadn’t thought something could scare him.

They bring nothing with them to the classroom. Everything, from pens to books and notebooks, is already there.

The teacher is at his desk, the wrinkles on his forehead look angry. David hates school. There is nothing even comparable to how much David hates school. Maybe snails. David hates snails too. They are disgusting.

They all try to go through the door at the same time to get a hold of the best spots.

“Quit that,” Mr. Suji says. He doesn’t yell, but his voice still makes David shiver. “I’ll call you to your seats. Mr. Moriyama, you’ll be in front row. Mr. Woolridge, I’ll have you right behind him. Mr. Day, I want you in the left corner. Miss Lu, I want you in front row.”

David’s place is as far away from the blackboard as he can possibly get. This means he could maybe fit a nap or two in his lessons without getting caught.

But David’s plan is soon forgotten once the classroom is completely occupied. This isn’t a proper class, there’s just nine of them. Hiding is impossible, even in the last desk.

Mr. Suji gives everyone a tall stack of papers and a pen. “You can begin.”

Begin? David turns the first paper and reads the first line, “3^rd grade Science – evaluation test”.

Explain the life cycle of the butterfly.

David groans. He skips the first question.

What are the states of matter?

Who caaaaaaaaareeeeeeeees?? David just wants to play Exy. He starts feeling really restless when he doesn’t even understand what the third question means. He kicks his legs. He drops his head on the desk, raises it again. He tries to look out the window, but there’s nothing outside.

What’s the next question? Maybe he’ll know the next one.

How are rocks formed?

What?! Rocks are just there! Nobody makes them. This is stupid. David kicks his legs some more.

He’ll skip Science. Nobody needs Science anyway.

Math is the next subject. There are multiplications. David is about to throw the test on the ground.

Ray precedes him. “This is retarded! I don’t need to do this shit!”

Mr. Suji looks up from his desk. He gives Ray one look. “Then you can go pack your things, Mr. Guerrero. I’m sure your uncle will be thrilled to have you back.”

Ray doesn’t have one of his usual comebacks for that. He closes his mouth and hunches in his seat.

“Well? Leave my classroom.”

Ray is still like a statue. He’s looking away from Mr. Suji.

“Mr. Guerrero? Do I have to call security to drag you out?”

Ray shakes his head. David sees his eyes getting glossy.

“No? No, what? Use your words, young man.”

“No, I don’t want to leave.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

Tears start falling down his cheeks, and something about his expression tells David that he’s angry about letting it happen.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks very quietly.

Mr. Suji doesn’t reply. He seems bored by the conversation.

Ray starts crumpling up his own shirt. His pride allows him to bear the silence only for a couple more seconds. “I’m sorry, sir. Please. I don’t want to leave. I won’t do it again.”

Mr. Suji makes an impatient gesture. “Pick up your test and go wash your face.”

Ray does just that without uttering a word. David feels awful for him. And scared.

David hadn’t known that the teacher had the power to kick them out. And what about his test? David hasn’t written a single word yet.

He looks around and sees everyone focusing real hard. Melody is flipping page after page. How does she do that? Does she know every answer or is she just making stuff up?

Maybe David can make something up too, he doesn’t want to go back home just yet. He has been picked as the second striker!

So he goes back to his test and this time he tries his absolute best, which is not much better than his first try.

Frustration escalates. It builds up like when you blow too much air in a balloon and it becomes super tense.  

He starts crying when he gets to the English section, and he realizes he doesn’t remember how to spell Wednesday.

“Mr. Day, get out of the classroom if you can’t be dignified.”

David doesn’t even know what dignified means. He gets up, sobbing and sniffing, and brings his failure of a test to the teacher’s desk. “I’m sooorryy!” His explanation on how he tried his best but can’t remember anything, gets lost into an incoherent mixture of wailings, snot, tears and saliva.

Mr. Suji catches some of his words and puts together what he’s trying to say. “This is just an evaluation, Mr. Day. If you don’t know the answers, then I will plan your study work accordingly. Now go pull yourself together. This behavior is unacceptable.”

David tries to calm down. He uses his shirt to clean his face. Somebody laughs. It’s Theo. They are all looking at him, they must think he’s a little baby.

It takes him a lot of walking up and down the hallway to finally stop crying. When he comes back into the classroom, the teacher doesn’t say anything. David walks back to his desk, feeling humiliated and stupid.

It gets even worse when school time is over, they leave the classroom, and just after crossing the door David hears Melody saying, “you look really cute when you cry.”

David immediately feels like crying again, but when he turns around, he sees that Melody is not talking to him.

Ray lunges at her in a second, but Melody is bigger, and she doesn’t seem to care how much Ray punches or kicks.

Her hands close around Ray’s throat, his back smashes to the wall. Everyone starts screaming at her to let go, Ray’s face is getting redder and redder. His fingers are clawing at Melody, desperately trying to get free.

“Most dogs learn this lesson in one beating. Let’s see if you’re smarter than a dog, Guerrero. I promise you, if you try to bite me with your baby teeth, I’ll pull them out. Nod if you understand.”

“He can’t nod, you’re choking him! Let go!” Judie springs forward.

Mr. Suji leaves the classroom in that moment. He glances at the commotion for a moment, and then proceeds ahead to the next door, where he disappears. 

“I’ll call Coach!” Harry springs in the opposite direction.

Sadie starts crying, Cedric presses himself against the wall and covers his ears.

Judie is trying to pull Melody away, but nothing she attempts seems effective. David should do something. He should help her. But he’s scared. His legs feel like giving out.

“You are out of line, Malcolm.” This is Jiro. He’s speaking in Japanese. Softly, like he always does, but Melody hears him.

She starts speaking in the same language, “stay out of it, little prince. I don’t owe you more obedience than I do this sack of shit. I’m teaching him his place. Somebody has to do it. It’s obvious Josten and Minyard have no intention to.”

Theo joins Judie in her effort to get Melody off Ray, and Melody starts to budge.

“I’ll get you off the team if you don’t let go now.” Jiro says.

David is still frozen. How could Jiro get anyone off the team? Even if he’s the captain he doesn’t get to decide that. Right?

Melody looks like she believes him, though. She looks scared for a second, but only a second. Then she lets go.

Theo and Judie stumble back. Ray collapses on the ground. He starts coughing, with his eyes watering and his throat already turning purple.

David rushes to his side. He pulls him up in a sitting position, thinking maybe he’ll breathe better that way. It’s probably not true, David doesn’t know, but he feels like he has to do something.

The crazy girl tries to retreat but, right in that moment, “you stay exactly where you are, Melody!” Uncle Neil.

Him and Andrew are rushing with Harry at their heels.

First, Coach checks on Ray, making a strangled noise at the sight of his purple throat. “Where the hell is the teacher?! Why isn’t he here?” He glares at the classroom door.

“Melody. You go wait in my office. I’ll deal with you later. Come here, Ray.”

Ray doesn’t come, he’s close to be unconscious. Coach Neil didn’t mean that literally, though. Coach Andrew goes to his knees and picks him up like he weights nothing.

The hallway gets cleared. Melody leaves for the Coach’s office with a blank expression. Andrew and Neil take Ray away, with Harry, Judie and Sadie, following closely.

Cedric is still plastered to the wall. He’s motionless, like David.

That had been a big fright.

“Hey.” Jiro puts a hand on David’s shoulder. He’s still here too, and so is Theo. “Are you alright?”

David doesn’t understand why Jiro would ask him. But then he realizes there’s new tears running down his face.

“That was scary,” he says, with nothing more than a whisper. “It was like she wanted to kill him.”

Jiro stays still for a moment. “I told you. Not everyone can be a friend. You must be wary of her.”

David nods, even though it pains him to admit that he could be right.

Morning practice goes by without the Coaches showing up. They still get changed and they head to the court on their own. Melody and Ray’s absence is heavy.

“Let’s just repeat yesterday’s exercises.” Jiro proposes. He’s the captain, and they don’t have any other ideas, so that’s what they do. 

At lunch, they find Ray already sitting at the table. He looks awful, with his skin colored from red to black. They all have a moment of uncertainty when they aren’t sure whether they should sit with him to show support for the strangulation he went through, or if they should still hold the grudge for Cedric’s sake. Most eyes turn to Judie, since, at some point, she has been implicitly declared the head of social decisions.

Judie sighs. Her nose is still a bit swollen for this morning’s punch, but she still chooses to sit next to Ray.

“Don’t go after Melody,” she says, as if someone could have somehow not gotten the message. “I told you guys she’s an ass. Why does nobody listen to me?”

Ray doesn’t say anything to her, or anyone, for the rest of the day. Melody joins them again for afternoon practice, with Coach Neil at her side assuring everyone that nothing of the sort will ever happen again.

Everyone is quiet, even David.

This feeling of uneasiness gets heavier and heavier as the hours move on. After dinner, David just wants to curl in a ball and fall asleep.

Ray doesn’t protest when it comes to brushing his teeth this time. Nobody comments when Andrew comes to cover Cedric’s mattress with some special sheets.

David climbs on his bed and thinks about how much he misses his grandma and grandpas.

“Goodnight kids,” Uncle Neil says before turning the lights off. He waits a moment still. “Tomorrow will go better.” And then he closes the door.

Yes, tomorrow will go better. David tries to convince himself. He closes his eyes and tries very hard to fall asleep, but his mind is still going. There’s so much in his brain right now, he can’t just lay in bed.

He tries his bestest anyway. He tries for like an hour. Maybe two. Maybe three.

Everyone is snoring and tossing blankets here and there.

David is wide awake.

A bed creaks. David turns. On the upper bed next to his, Jiro is sitting. He can’t sleep either? He reaches the ladders and starts going down on bare feet. He probably needs to go to the bathroom.

David stares up at the ceiling hearing the softest steps getting further away.

Actually, David needs to go to the bathroom too. It’s not that he’s restless and lonely, he just needs to have a wee.

He quickly climbs down his bed and tiptoes out of the bedroom.

David sees the faraway shape of Jiro down the hallway, beyond the bathroom.

The older boy reaches the exit of the private area of the stadium and pushes the door suuuuuper slowly. Where is he going?

David bounces on his heels. He’s curious. He’s full of energy and he can’t sleep. But he doesn’t remember the code to access the private area again for when he wants to come back. Maybe he can just catch up with Jiro, he’ll know the code.

No. That’s a bad idea. He’d look like a stupid little kid.

David crouches on the floor and decides to wait. Jiro will come back eventually, and when he does, they can go to the bathroom together, and David can ask him where he went and what he did.

So, David waits.

He waits until his eyelids get too heavy. He waits and waits.

And then he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

That smug grin on Melody’s face is about to make Neil go insane. Andrew is standing next to him, in silent support, while Neil is sitting in his comfy chair. They left Ray at the infirmary with the girls and that sixty-year-old pediatrician that looks like a turtle.

Melody is sitting on the guest chair of the office, with the desk dividing them, and her legs crossed. She’s looking very pleased with herself.

Neil is going to lose it. He’s not made for this job, he’s not patient enough. He’s an instigator, not a peacemaker.

“You can start speaking now. Tell me what the fuck you were trying to accomplish with that ridiculous stunt.” Neil is calm. He is so calm. Never being calmer in his life.

Melody shrugs. “He got on my nerves. I had a feeling he would have continued to get on my nerves, so I did something that will make him think twice next time. It’s not like you two were going to do anything about it.”

She sounds accusing now, like Neil and Andrew have been negligent in their duties.

“We are dealing with Ray the way we see most fit. It’s not your place to take alternative disciplinary methods. I don’t care how much you think you’re in the right, if you hurt someone again, you’re out.”

Melody moves her gaze to the side. “If I do it again, I’m out, but if Guerrero hurts someone again, he just has to run in a circle for the next three practices. You shouldn’t be so obvious when you’re playing favorites.”

Neil feels called out. Yes, he understands Ray’s behavior more than he does Melody’s. He can condone Ray’s attitude because he can imagine what he’s been through. Melody, though. She just reminds him of a certain psychopath.

But he doesn’t admit any of that. “You can’t compare a punch to the nose with a strangulation. If you’d kept going, you could have killed him.”

“I know how to kill. I don’t do it on accident, and I wasn’t trying to kill him. I was doing your job for you. You’re welcome, by the way.” She’s still looking to the side. Neil would take it as a sing of submission if her expression wasn’t so determined.

“I won’t repeat this a third time: if you hurt someone again…”

“There will be no need to hurt someone again, if they have more than three braincells,” she spats. “I had to do something if you have no intention of keeping this trash in line. This would have never happened with Tetsuji.”

A little laugh escapes Neil. “You want a Coach like Tetsuji? We can arrange that. Get me a stick.”

Her eyes come back to his, fierce and unflinching. They’re saying, “do it.” She actually gets up, like she’s determined to find a stick for Neil.

“Sit down.”

She doesn’t sit.

“Sit down, before I…”

“Before you what? You’re not going to do anything!” And as if to prove it, she kicks the desk crashing it straight to Neil’s stomach.

She prepares for another kick, but Andrew is there to grab her by the arm. He pushes her down on the chair. She doesn’t resist. Melody looks up at him, her cruel smile back in place. “Are you going to beat me up? So, you’re the dog and he’s your master, right? He doesn’t get his hands dirty, but you do.”

“It’s funny how you find Ray so annoying, since you act exactly like him.” Andrew has always had a special talent for infuriating people.

The girl huffs. “Guerrero is a frightened, tiny dog barking loudly in a humiliating attempt to scare off bigger dogs.”

“And you’re not?”

Melody jumps on her feet again. “Do I look scared to you?!” She glares straight up at Andrew.

Andrew deliberately decides to smile, because he’s a little shit, and Neil loves him for it.

“I think you look terrified, Mel.”

And now she looks murderous. Her voice goes down, drenched in rage. “Why would I ever be scared of you two?” She turns to Neil, “you spent half your life running with your tail between your legs, and you,” back to Andrew again, and it’s clear he hates him the most, “you are just some Marine’s leftovers.”

Cold rage. That’s all Neil can feel for a split second.

Neil doesn’t get to hit her just because the desk is in the way, and he can’t get up fast enough with the damn prosthetic, so Andrew has the time to bring him back to reality, raise a hand and call a truce.

Neil remains seated, but the look he reserves for the girl is a promise.

“I think you are terrified, Melody,” Andrew says. “Because you are starting to believe that we are not going to hurt you, no matter how much of your shitty attitude you give us. So, you have no idea what comes next. The unknown is much more terrifying than any hell you’ve already lived through. God knows what kind of new pain it could bring you, having people who actually care about you. And I’m not gonna sugar coat it for you, you’re right. Allowing someone to get close, trusting them to not stab you in the back, is the most painful feeling you’ll ever experience. Once you get a taste of it, just the thought of losing that someone is enough to make you lose your mind.”

Silence falls. Melody wets her lips. It takes her a couple of seconds to bring back her mocking smile. “And you would be the one to care for me? Is this the broken foster child speaking? Did you want to have a mommy so bad than now you’re gonna be a mommy for me?”

Andrew gives her one of his blank stares.

It’s true, Melody and Ray have a lot in common. But at this point, Ray would have already started breaking shit, while Melody is seething internally.

“You are not going to hit a teammate again. I want you to promise,” Neil takes the floor again.

“I promise,” Melody replies, with a smile that assures Neil she doesn’t feel bound to her word, not one bit.

“Great. Get out of my office.” Neil does not have Andrew’s patience.

Melody waves goodbye to both of them. The door slams when she leaves.

“How wary should we be of her?” Neil slouches in his chair. He’s tired.

“I don’t think she’ll resort to hitting again, or she would confirm that she’s just like Ray. But she won’t relent, either.”

“As long as she doesn’t choke anyone, I’m good," Neil says.

“Would you really send her back?” Andrew is looking at him. Neil can’t tell what’s in his mind right now.

“You know I wouldn’t.” Neil has no idea in what sorts of conditions that girl has been living, but if it was anything like what his house had been when he was a kid, he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

They retreat to their apartment after lunch, so that Neil can attempt to have a nap. Andrew has other plans though. He spends the break laying on their bed with his laptop, looking for ways to install doors to the shower stalls, but it’s proving more complicated than initially planned.

Neil can hear him mumble unhappily every time he opens a new tab.

“What?” Neil will never get to nap, will he?

“Between materials and installation, it’s super fucking expensive.”

“We have a criminal organization to fund our little projects.”

“I don’t want to ask the Moriyamas. Also, it’ll take less if we just do this on our own. I suppose we could cut costs if we installed them ourselves.” Andrew looks at Neil, laying in bed next to him. “Do you know how to use a drill?”

“Do YOU know how to use a drill?”

“Foster kid. I’m excused.”

“Well, my dad didn’t have time to teach me how to use a drill, he was busy doing other shit.”

Andrew takes a sip from his mug. Chocolate milk. He loves it. He's such a kid. “We should reach some well-adjusted adult for help.” He looks at Neil and waits.

“And when you say we should, you mean I should. Right, Drew?”

“You’re the one with the well-adjusted friends.”

Neil rolls his eyes and turns on his side. He’s tired. He’ll take a nap first.

Andrew sighs. Then sighs again louder when he takes the phone. He immediately puts it on speaker, specifically to annoy Neil.

“Hello…?” Says a very confused Matt. Andrew doesn’t call him very often. Or... ever.

“Hello, Boyd, I need you to come to a secluded location, about four hours away from Phoenix, for some unpaid labor. Tomorrow would be ideal.”

“Uhm…”

“It can’t really wait any longer.”

“Right. Well…”

“C’mon, it’s not like you have anything better to do.”

“Andrew… It’s so nice to hear you. Really. Sometimes I almost forget how nice it is talking to you, but then you give me these little moments. Would you mind putting Neil on the phone?”

Andrew tosses the phone on Neil’s head. “He wants to speak with you.”

“You’re an asshole.” Neil pushes himself in a sitting position and puts the pillow behind his back. “Hey, Matt.”

“Hey, man. How are you holding up?”

“With one leg. Oh, yeah, I’m at a point where I make amputee’s jokes. Andrew says it’s a good thing for my mental health. I don’t know if it’s true, but he’s the expert.”

“Andrew’s the mental health expert?”

Neil doesn’t answer that. He lets the silence stretch.

“Alright. Sure. Andrew’s the mental health expert. What the hell was your boyfriend going on about, anyway?”

“You’re on speaker.” He warns him. Andrew has already made a face at the word boyfriend.

“Cool. Cool. What was your whatever the hell you call each other going on about?”

“We need to install some doors at the stadium where we’re training the little league. We would do it ourselves but… we don’t know how to do it.”

“Oh. Well. I don’t know… Like, you know I’d help you anytime, man, but I’ve got the kid. Dan is away for another game this week.”

“Just bring the kid over. It’s full of kids here, anyway. One more won’t make a difference.”

Matt snickers. “Ok. I actually would love to see you being surrounded by excited baby Ravens. I bet they all adore you, already.”

Neil has no idea why Matt would think that. He also doesn’t think any of those kids adore him.

“Can you be here tomorrow morning between 7.30am and 10.30am?”

“I’ll try my best. You make sure the materials are all there.”

Neil looks at Andrew who nods with his eyes fixed on the laptop. The materials will be there.

Andrew takes a hold of his phone again. “Great. Goodbye, Boyd. Let me reiterate that you will not be paid for the work. See ya.” And turns off the call.

The day after, Neil wakes up first. He wiggles out of his cat prison and grabs his prosthetic.

“It’s early,” Andrew mumbles.

Neil checks his phone. Matt has left three texts already. He’s on his way, he’s been driving for good part of the night to be there in time. “I want to check on the kids before Matt gets here. Can you watch over them at breakfast?”

Andrew makes some gurgling noises.

Neil still feels incoherent when he steps out of the Coach’s quarters and walks down the hallway.

“What the… David? Why are you sleeping on the floor?”

David cracks an eye open. He’s slouched on the ground, with his neck bent at a painful degree. He rubs his eyes with a little fist. “Uhm…” He looks around the empty hallway. “I don’t remember.”

“Please, don’t tell me you sleepwalk.”

David seems unable to put together an answer, at the moment. He stands up and groans for the pain he must feel just about everywhere.

“C’mon, go back to your bedroom.” Neil puts a hand to his back to push him forward and give him a little pat. As soon as they enter, David stops.

Jiro is sitting on the center upper bed with his legs crossed and a book in his hands. The curtains are drawn, and the lights are off, so he’s squinting to look at the letters.

David stares in stunned silence, and then, “where did you go last night? I was waiting for you.”

Jiro lowers the book and turns to the voice.

Neil blinks. “What?” He narrows his eyes at the Moriyama kid. “Where did you go last night?”

Jiro looks confused. “Nowhere. I was in my bed, Coach.” The absolute innocence in his voice sounds almost believable. Jiro gazes down at Kevin’s kid. “You must have had a dream, David.”

David rubs his eye with a puzzled expression. “Oh. Yeah.”

Oh, yeah. Sure. I was born two minutes ago. Neil glares at Jiro, but the kid keeps up his front of bewildered innocence.

“Ok! Everybody up! Bathroom! Breakfast! C’mon! C’mon!”

A swarm of kids groans and starts dragging themselves out of bed. Jiro climbs down, as fresh as a rose. Neil is going to plaster his eyeballs to this kid.

Andrew comes to change the guard right when Matt texts that he’s parking in front of that monstrosity of a stadium.    

“Neeil!” Matt opens his arms wide as soon as he’s out of the car. Neil crosses the threshold of the stadium and accepts his warm greeting.

“Oh, my God, you look like shit!” He laughs at the rings under Neil’s eyes. “How long have you been doing this? How many kids do you have?”

“Three days. Nine kids.”

Matt loses it. Neil is glad to know someone is having fun, at least. 

“Can I see? Can I see?” He crouches next to Neil’s left leg, and Neil lifts the pants to let him have a good view of the prosthetic.

Matt whistles. “That’s soo cool! Can I say that it’s cool? Or is that insensitive?”

Neil shrugs. He’s not the best person to decide that.

“Let me just grab Alice and my tools and I’ll be all yours.”

Alice is sleeping soundly in the car seat. She is bigger than Neil remembers, with her black curly hair now cut shorter.

Matt doesn’t even hesitate to pick her up. She doesn’t wake, she just adjusts her position to be more comfortable.

Neil takes Matt toolbox and leads the way for the second floor. “Do you want to lay her down in my bed?”

“Nah, she’s gonna wake soon anyway.”

Matt whistles at the sight of the brand-new interior. “They spared no expenses.”

“If they actually get nine pro Exy players out of this program, they’ll earn five times what they spent. And this is just with the first patch of kids.”

They continue down the hallway, and the sound of kids chatting happily makes Matt smile.

“I want to meet them! Can I meet them?”

Before Neil can answer, he’s already peeping into the cafeteria and, of course, David bounces on his chair and points, “Matthew Donovan Boyd!”

Matt is dumbstruck into blissfulness. “Really?” He laughs. Matt abandoned his Exy career after collage, so Neil guesses he doesn’t get recognized too often anymore.

David jumps off his chair and runs his way. His eyes are as bright as sparkles. “Number four of the Foxes! You are a legend!”

“Thank you! Wow! And… and who are you?”

Neil replies in David’s place. “He’s Kevin’s kid.”

“He’s WHAT?!”

Matt crouches keeping Alice in balance, and grabs David by the chin, moving his face around for a good inspection. “Oh, my God, you are!”

“Yeah. Apparently, Kevin had a good reason for never showing up at Thanksgiving.”

“I’m going to murder that son of a bip. How long have you known?”

“Mhh… A couple of weeks? Kevin didn’t want you know who to know about this, but, as you can see, there’s no point keeping it a secret anymore.”

Matt rises again, all happiness draining from his face as realizations dawns on him. “But…”

He takes Neil by the arm and drags him out of the cafeteria and away from those glowing brown eyes. “But… this place is safe, right? You’re the one managing everything.”

Neil is almost tempted to lie. But no. This is Matt, he is family, and Neil has learned to lean on those that can keep him up. “Me and Andrew will do everything we can, but we have no real power.”

Matt looks stunned, like he’s only now starting to see the danger the Moriyamas still represent.

Before the conversation can delve into much deeper waters, Andrew comes out of the cafeteria looking half asleep. He hands Neil a buttered toast and says, “toast.”

He’s not very talkative in the morning.

“Hey, Andrew,” Matt greets him.

Andrew looks at him. Looks at Alice. “You can’t install doors with that.”

“That is my daughter. And she’ll wake up soon.”

“Mhh.” Andrew comes closer and pokes the little girl on the cheek until she squints, annoyed.

“Hey!” Matt sounds offended on her behalf.

Andrew takes back the toast he handed to Neil and offers it to the girl. “Toast.”

Alice reaches out and starts munching on the bread without even lifting her head from Matt’s shoulder.

“Ok,” Matt huffs. “I suppose Alice is awake. We can start working now.” He puts her down on her feet where she yawns with her mouth full.

“Darling, you remember Uncle Neil and Uncle Andrew?”

The girl looks up at both of them and goes straight for Andrew’s hand. Andrew points to the cafeteria. “Toast.”

The girl nods and sleepily follows him inside.

“How did I never notice it?” Neil is still beating himself up about it. “Andrew is like a child whisperer.”

“Uuuh… I wouldn’t call him that way.” Matt replies struggling to hold the door frame in place.

“You don’t understand, Matt. We’ve been here two days, and he’s glowing.”

“That was him glowing? I will never, ever, understand him.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? I’m dying over here! I’m losing hair. I’ve never been so stressed.”

“Are you sure? Cause like… I can come up with one or two times you might have been more stressed.”

“These kids rely on me, Matt. ON ME. And Andrew likes that? He wants that? I think he wants to have children, and the bastard never even said a word about it.”

“So, are you, like… worried you might split up?”

“WHAT?!” Neil lets go of the frame. Between curses and grunts, Matt manages to keep it in place.

“Me and Andrew don’t split up.”

“Yeah, right,” Matt puffs. “It would take surgery to divide you two. What I mean is… you know, one person wants kids, and the other one doesn’t. That’s like… one of those very acceptable instances when people split up.”

“I never said I don’t want kids.”

“You just said you’re losing hair after two days of dealing with kids.”

“And don’t I have a right to? What… what am I even supposed to do? I don’t know anything! What do I do if a kid cries? Should I hug it? Do I spoil it if I hug it?”

“Maybe don’t call the child it.”

“And what if a kid doesn’t listen to what I say? What do you do then? Cause everything my head can come up with is my father playing “Operation” with my chest and a cleaver. Or my mom banging my head against a wall.”

“Jesus fuck.” The frame quivers when Matt has a sort of weird hiccup. Neil should probably keep the rest of his doubts to himself.

It takes them over two hours to set up all the doors in the shower stall, and then another hour for the showers in the locker room.

“You know,” Matt and Neil have both ended up laying on the cool floor of the boys’ locker room, drenched in sweat, “maybe it’s finally time that you address this type of stuff, with… you know, a specialist.”

Neil scowls even though they’re both staring at the ceiling, and Matt can’t admire he’s perfect sulk. “I swear, if someone else tells me to go to therapy…”

“You’ll what? Keep on not addressing your traumatic past?”

Neil is already tired of this conversation. “Therapy’s just not for me, Matt. I don’t get it. Ok, it helps other people, it helped Andrew, but it wouldn’t help me. Talking about the shitty things that happened won’t make me feel better, and it will not change the past. It is what it is. End of story.”

“Ugh. You’re so stubborn. So, what is your plan, then? Keep on losing your hair?”

“Yes. I don’t really have another choice. I’m a children’s Coach now, and that’s what I will do for the rest of my days, regardless of whether I like it or not.”

Matt is quiet for a while. Neil can feel his sadness like a palpable presence. He should have just shut up. He doesn’t get to see his friend often, why did he have to bring him down with his sappy little story? Things aren’t so bad after all. Neil still has Andrew. There is still Exy in his life, even if it’s not really how he’d like to have it.

“It’s fucked up.” Matt tries to comfort him. “I’m sorry, man. I really am. I know how much you loved playing. That’s why people loved watching you. You exuded so much passion it was magical.”

Neil feels empty. Feels like he has fallen at the bottom of a pit. Like a piece of himself has died. “Andrew said…” Neil stops. He really shouldn’t indulge in this.

“What?”

“That I could get into Paralympic Exy. I can’t, of course. Disabled athletes earn crumbs compared to what I used to make, and the Moriyamas would not settle for such a ridiculous amount. But maybe… I can just… do it for fun? Like, on the weekends.” Like a forty-year-old playing golf at the club. That is not what Neil wants. He wants to compete. He wants to win.

“I think, after everything you’ve been through, you should get to do whatever the fuck you want.” Matt sounds angry. On Neil’s behalf?

The door of the locker room opens, and a flock of boys come in. Neil grunts as he completes all the difficult maneuvers he needs to make to stand up.

“Woooooooaaahhh! NEW DOOORS!” David could be excited by anything, Neil is sure.

“Yes, be careful with the locks, kids. Be responsible.”

A chorus of “yes, Coach” erupts.

Matt is smiling his way. He leans in to whisper, “you’re not so bad. I told you they’d surely adore you.”

Maybe from the outside it looks like Neil knows what he’s doing, but on the inside, there is just an interminable scream of anguish and self-doubt.

They leave the boys to get changed trusting them not to kill each other. Ray had been particularly quiet since Melody had almost killed him, so Neil thinks he won’t attract too much attention for a while.

They head to the court so Neil can show Matt the place. They find Andrew and Alice at the bench, just outside the protective wall. Alice is standing on top of it, while Andrew is standing beside.

Matt rises a hand to wave, and in that moment, Andrew shoves the girl off. Matt actually yelps, like he thinks his daughter’s head is about to split open on the floor. 

Andrew catches her, obviously. And judging by how the girl is breathlessly laughing, she has been repeating this very game for a while. In fact, after Andrew puts her down again, she runs back, jumps on the bench, and turns around like she has no clue what’s about to happen.

Andrew shoves her again, catches her by the stomach, and then grabs her by the ankles and starts calmingly walking around with the girl upside down, like she’s a dead chicken waiting to be slaughtered.

“EHM, Andrew, Andrew! Please, put down my only daughter.”

Andrew turns to Matt, and his face is as expressionless as always, but Neil can see that he’s annoyed.

He lowers the girl until her hands touch the floor and then he lets go.

Neil tries to distract him from his sudden bad mood, “the doors are installed, both here and upstairs. And, by the way, you know you could have helped us, right?”

“We were busy,” Andrew replies. Alice is trying to climb on him, making little jumps and pulling at his clothes. Her laughs become frustrated when she can’t get a reaction out of him.

“Alice,” Matt calls her.

The girl is still pulling at Andrew’s shirt, whining for him to pick her up again. When nothing works, she tries grabbing him by the arm. Her fingers close on Andrew’s armband.

“Don’t touch that!” Matt springs forward and pulls Alice away.

Andrew is motionless, a new sort of nothingness is taking over. Neil knows this reaction wasn’t caused by the child.

“You should go,” Neil tells Matt, maybe a little too strongly.

Matt looks guilty, but he’s still keeping Alice away. “I’m sorry, but… you still have knives in there, don’t you?”

Andrew is empty. He doesn’t say anything. He turns around and starts walking away.

Alice’s confusion turns quickly into tears.

“Neil, I’m sorry.”

Matt’s saying sorry to Neil? Fury is growing quickly. Neil loves Matt, he really does. He loves all of the Foxes, but he can’t condone how they all still treat Andrew like some kind of rabid monster.

“You should leave.”

“I can’t be thinking about Andrew’s feelings when it comes to my daughter’s safety!”

That’s supposed to be his excuse?

Matt flinches when Neil looks at him with all that he’s feeling. “Safety? Like, you actually think your daughter could be in danger with Andrew?!”

Matt purses his lips. “I don’t know, Neil. I’m sure he’s not like he was in college, but I’m not close with him. He won’t allow me to be close with him. I can only judge him for what I know. And what I know is that he likes to point knives at people, and I still remember very clearly him trying to choke Allison for no reason.”

Neil is seriously going to punch him. Alice is still crying. Andrew is gone.

All of a sudden, Neil doesn’t care about this conversation. He needs to find Andrew and make sure he’s ok.

Neil turns around.

“Man, come on. You know what I mean!”

He doesn’t. He really doesn’t. Neil will never understand how they can all be so blind.

Neil finds Andrew in the hallway, leaning on the wall. His eyes are closed and he’s doing one of his breathing exercises.

Neil knows this means he had a flashback, or a panic attack, or both.

“Do you need to be alone, right now?”

Andrew doesn’t open his eyes, but he stretches a hand, meaning no, I need you here with me.

Neil takes it, squeezes it.

“She’s still crying. You have to tell her it’s ok.”

“Matt can deal with that. I’m not leaving you.”

“No. You have to tell her I’m ok.” Andrew gets free of Neil’s hand, his message clear.

Ok. Andrew knows his boundaries and knows what he needs. If this is what he’s asking Neil, then that’s what Neil will do.

“I’ll return in a bit.” He rushes back to the court, where Matt is trying to comfort his daughter.

Neil is shit at this. He knows he is. He gets on his knees and tells her that Uncle Andrew is fine, that he wants her to know that he’s fine, and that they’ll play together soon, but another time because now Andrew needs some rest.

She’s… not completely buying it, but her crying gets softer.

“I’m sorry, Neil,” Matt repeats.

Neil is immediately furious again. “If you understood the problem at all, you would be saying sorry to him, not to me. And don’t you even think about doing that right now. He’s having a panic attack. But he insisted that I come here, to tell your daughter he’s ok, instead of staying there and taking care of him.”

Matt looks stunned and that’s even more infuriating. Which part stunned him? That Andrew doesn’t want Alice to be in distress, or that Andrew is capable of having panic attacks?

Neil immediately feels guilty as soon as he realizes what he said. He doesn’t know if Andrew wanted to share that part about his struggles. Neil doesn’t even know if he’d ever told anyone else about it.

“Just… forget what I said. Please, leave.”

Alice appears confused by this last bit of conversation. Neil hopes she didn’t understand what he meant, and he leaves her and Matt behind to go back to Andrew.

“Drew.”

He’s still leaning on the wall.

His breathing is back to normal. His eyes are opened, but only halfway. He’s focusing on the floor tiles and keeping himself grounded.

Neil offers his hand and Andrew takes it without a word.

Chapter Text

Being a children’s Coach is basically being paid to relax. Well, Andrew isn’t technically being paid, but still. He doesn’t have to grab the racquet with two hands. He doesn’t even need to wear protections, there is no chance they’ll hit him. He can just chill and enjoy his Hatchlings chirping around, trying to keep up with the ball.

Some of the kids don’t seem to mind that Andrew can take all of them with his eyes closed. Like Harry, for example. Harry is a Buddha. It’s no fun torturing Harry. But then there’s little Sadie. And Ray, and Judie. Andrew can almost see smoke coming out of their ears every time he blocks a very determined shot with the laziness of a sleepy cat.

His current method of torture for Sadie constitutes of the following exercise: Harry trains her passes by passing the ball to Andrew, Andrew scores, always one inch away from Sadie’s racquet.

The little muffin looks so determined Andrew almost feels bad for talking on the phone with his free hand. Well, almost. Well, no, actually, he’s really enjoying himself.

“Is this some kind of prank? Are you into pranks, now?” Says the voice on the phone.

“Brother o’ mine, I am as serious as I’ve ever been. I am in need of a doctor specialized in child abuse. I was under the impression you happened to be just that.”

The ball flies in the net of the goal, Sadie says fuck (she’s been saying that a lot since she realized Andrew and Neil don’t care if she does) and hits the floor with her racquet with some impressive strength for a fake eight-year-old.

“This is not how it works! I can’t just take children into a room and visit them; you need to go through the official channels first. You know that!”

“I can’t leave any official trail.”

“And that means that you have no intention of letting me call CPS if I do suspect abuse, right?”

Andrew huffs while Harry throws the next ball at him. “CPS is useless, and you know it.”

“NO! No, Andrew, I don’t think CPS is useless, because, whether I like it or not, I have to believe the system can work. I am a DOCTOR, for fuck’s sake! I AM the system!”

Andrew huffs again. Scores again.

“Didn’t you have a pediatrician on the site?”

“There’s a good chance every worker here reports back to the Moriyamas. But even if that wasn’t the case, I don’t know that mummy. He could be an abuser himself for all I know.” It’s the closest Andrew can get to admit that he trusts Aaron and Aaron alone to do this.

He hears a long sigh, then Katelyn’s voice in the distance. “Do you realize I could lose my medical license?”

“Yes.”

“And get seriously in trouble with the law?”

Andrew scores again, and gestures for the two girls to swap places before Sadie destroys their immaculate new floor with her racquet.

“You’ve been seriously in trouble with the law before. You’re doing fine.”

“Fucking asshole.” Aaron grumbles as he hangs up.

Andrew texts him the location and the meeting time, and then he pockets his phone.

Sadie takes advantage of his distraction to throw the ball directly at his face. Andrew catches it, barely, and feels something warm and fuzzy for his ferocious little muffin.

“Better luck next time.”

“Asshole!” Sadie has learned so many new words since she came here.

Bee arrives first in that dingy car of hers that’s puffing black smoke like a train of the old times.

“Why don’t you go around in a horse carriage?” Andrew says, as he opens the car door for her. “It would be a technological improvement.”

The woman shakes her head with an amused smile. “It’s so nice to see you, Andrew. My poor car has gone too long without anyone properly insulting it.”

“I’m always happy to help.” Andrew says, his mocking tone hiding the truth of that statement.

There is no hiding something with Bee, though. The woman stops in front of Andrew as soon as she gets out of the car. Her kind eyes fall on him full of something Andrew refuses to acknowledge. She has put on weight over the years, her hair is turning grey. She’s always just barely taller than Andrew, which means she’s pretty fucking short.

They haven’t seen each other since before Neil’s accident. Andrew skipped last month’s appointment because Neil had needed him for rehabilitation.

“We could find some time to chat before I leave.” Bee offers, reading something in Andrew’s silence.

His instinctual response is to throw that offer back at her face. He knows why, he has learned to immediately reject any form of help because that would mean lowering his walls.

It’s Bee. Andrew has done nothing but lowering his walls with her for the past nine years, but it doesn’t matter, the voice is still there.

Andrew wonders if his first instinct will be to push everyone away and hide within himself for the rest of his days.

“You’re quiet.” Bee describes. She does that a lot, she just describes what Andrew does, without judgment and without interpretation.

“This is not a therapy session.”

Bee smiles like she knows Andrew’s being difficult just for the fun of it. “How’s Neil?”

“Like a junkie that’s been going on without a dose for two months.”

“So, he’s not adjusting very well?”

Andrew had hoped that working as an Exy coach would have been enough to scratch Neil’s itch for his damn addiction. Instead, it was like hanging a piece of meat above a starving dog’s nose, just barely out of reach.

Andrew had found Neil sprawled on the Court the other night. He was still holding a child sized racquet he’d been using to try some shots. Whatever he’d been trying to accomplish hadn’t worked.

“Are you worried about him?”

Another car -one of this century- roars as it approaches the front parking lot of the stadium. Andrew follows its progress until it halts to a stop.

“I’m always worried about him.” There. A little crack right at the center of his walls.

Bee doesn’t probe the crack with more questions, or any of her neutral comments, because the driver from the other car is getting out.

“Jesus fuck.” Aaron stares down at Bee. “He’s got you into this too? You know what we’re doing is illegal, right?”

Bee blinks at him, her amused smile turning into a different kind of amused. “Is it?”

Aaron crosses his arms, already pissed beyond his regular levels. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Andrew reaches Neil on the court and tells him that Bee and Aaron have arrived.

“Ray! Cedric! Melody!” The scrimmage halts as the three players look back at their Coach. “Come here!”

“What?” Ray has returned to his usual snarky self, even if he keeps a safe distance from Melody at all times.

“Physical examination.” Neils says with no more explanation. “Follow Andrew.”

Cedric steps in Andrew’s direction without hesitation, while Ray takes a few seconds to stomp his feet, curse and throw his racquet to the ground.

Melody just unbuckles her helmet and tilts her head with a bemused grin. “And why is it that only us three have to have a physical examination? What are the odds that only the damaged kids need it?”

Neil grinds his teeth. Melody has been pushing at him since she promised not to choke anyone again.

“No one is damaged here,” Neil speaks calmly.

“Oh, yeah. Zombie boy is doing great.” Mel points at Cedric with her chin. “And this guy can’t wait to tattoo a Swastika on his forehead on his first day in jail.”

Ray says nothing back to that. Andrew doesn’t know if he’s being cautious of Melody, or if he doesn’t know what a Swastika is.

“You’re free to believe whatever you want, but I’m your Coach, and...”

“Oh, am I?” Melody smile broadens. “I am not having any physical examination, unless you want to drag me kicking and screaming. Ah, before you make a decision, I’ll have you know that I bite.”

Neil pinches the bridge of his nose and takes one long breath. “Alright. We’ll talk about this later. Go back to your practice.”

Melody does a little curtsey and shows them all her middle finger as she turns back to her dealing position.

Andrew stops by the boy’s locker room to let the two kids get rid of their gear before taking them to the infirmary. Bee is waiting in the hallway and has her warm smile ready for the boys.

“Ray,” Andrew calls him, “this is my friend, Betsy Dobson. Cedric will have his examination first with the doctor. Why don’t you show Betsy around, in the meantime?”

Ray looks at him like he’s an idiot, like he would never, in a million years, want to do that. But then Bee does her magic, “you must be the Ray Andrew has been telling me about. You must be very strong to be able to play full games of Exy at your age. I have learned quite a lot about the sport in the past few years. Who’s your favorite player?”

Ray has his brows furrowed, his lips pursed. He’s torn between wanting to insult her and wanting to accept the compliment and reply.

Andrew has no idea how Bee does it. It must be that maternal love she radiates from every pore of her being, but Ray decides to answer, “Jeremy Knox.”

That’s a fucking twist, Andrew thinks. Ray’s favorite player is Jeremy Sunshine Knox?

In a matter of a couple of minutes, Bee manages to take Ray on a stroll with her, happily chatting his mind away.

That is witchcraft. That’s what it is.

Cedric is quiet at his side, keeping very still.

“It’s ok.” Andrew’s voice gets soft when he talks to Cedric. It feels like a lifelong reflex to crouch in front of him. “The doctor is my brother. I trust him completely, he will not do anything that will hurt you, I promise.”

Cedric is staring at the floor. He doesn’t nod or say anything, but Andrew knows that he’s listening.

“To be precise, he’s my twin, so don’t freak out if he looks a little bit like me.”

Andrew opens the door to the clean and sun-lit infirmary. Aaron has put his white coat on, there’s a miniscule teddy bear coming out of his pocket that’s hanging for dear life at the fabric.

Andrew experiences one of those instances where you feel like you’re living in a simulation, because what you’re going through is too divergent from what you expect the real world to be.

Aaron is smiling at Cedric. It’s a disconcerting sight, at the very least. Andrew has known Aaron to be a pediatrician for some years now, but he’s never pictured him doing the actual job, with actual, real life children.

“Hello,” Aaron says, immediately kneeling. Cedric is glued to the floor, still one step out of the door. “I’m Doctor Aaron. I know doctors can be scary sometimes, but I promise there won’t be any needles today.”

Aaron turns his sweet smile to Andrew and in German mutters, “Give him your hand, you moron.”

Andrew has never touched Cedric. He cannot imagine Cedric wants to be touched by him.

Aaron doesn’t let his annoyance show on his face. His gaze goes back to Cedric, then immediately to his brother again. He sees something in the two of them, something that has his serene smile quiver.

Andrew realizes him and Cedric are both standing perfectly still, both perfectly quiet. The way they keep their shoulders tight is the same.

Andrew moves his hand in front of the boy. It’s an offering, not an imposition. Andrew hopes that he takes it, because maybe that means the boy is ok.

Cedric reaches out, but before skin can touch skin, his little fingers slip on Andrew’s sleeve and grip the fabric.

Andrew wants to hold him. He wants to feel his warm hand in his. He wants to hug him so tight no one will ever be able to get to him.

Andrew takes a step forward and so does Cedric.

Aaron waits for their slow procession to reach the center of the room, then he gets up and closes the door. He doesn’t close it all the way, though. Just enough to not have anyone be able to peek, but still not closed all the way, so that there could be no chance for the door to be locked.

“You must be Cedric, right? Is it ok if I call you Cedric, or would you rather I called you something else?”

Aaron sits down on the doctor’s chair in front of the boy, still distant enough that he couldn’t touch him if he reached. He is further from the door than Cedric is.

The boy doesn’t reply, but Aaron nods anyway as if he has.

“I’ve got something for you, here.” The doctor reaches for his bag and takes a small object out of it. It’s a little tablet with a green and a red button. “Sometimes it’s difficult to talk with doctors. I know it very well; I hate going to the dentist! But your opinion is very important, so I think you could use this to let me know what your opinion is. Look, if I press the green button it goes like this.” The tablet speaks a yes in a child’s voice. “And if I press the red button…” The voice says no. “Let’s do a test round. Here.” Aaron gives the tablet to the kid who’s still clutching at Andrew’s sleeve.

“Ok, so… let’s see. Do you like… chocolate?”

Cedric looks down at the toy in his hand. He’s slow, like he’s anesthetized, but his eyes are very focused.

It takes ten painful second for the voice to go yes.

“And do you like, mhh… broccoli?”

Yes.

“You do?! You must be the first child I meet that likes broccoli! What about… peppers? Do you like them?”

Yes.

“Really?! It must be a treat to cook for you. Is there any food that you don’t like?”

No.

Aaron nods at that. “Ok, so now you know how to tell me what you want, and that is very important, because we will not do anything that you don’t want.”

Cedric’s hold on Andrew’s sleeve grows tighter.

“It’s ok. No one will touch you.” Maybe Andrew shouldn’t have said that, maybe Aaron would need to touch him at some point, but Andrew can’t bring himself to rectify what he just said. “I’m here,” he says, like that means something, like that’s supposed to solve everything.

Aaron gets up from the chair, slowly, but Cedric is shaking. He clutches the tablet and both yes and no play at the same time. Andrew doesn’t know if it’s the sound or Aaron’s proximity that freaks him out, but Cedric loses his perfect stillness and quickly hides his face in Andrew’s shirt.

Aaron steps back, making himself small on the ground again. “I know a game that can help if you’re feeling a bit stressed. We can count back from fifty. Do you know how to count backwards? It’s a bit tricky. It goes like this: fifty, forty-nine, forty-eight…”

Cedric’s breath takes a while to calm down. Andrew is motionless. He feels like when a butterfly settles on your hand. Only that this is not a butterfly; it’s a warm, living child.

“Ok,” Aaron whispers as the countdown runs out. “Are you feeling better, now?”

It takes another minute or so before the voice says yes. This button thing is a great idea. Where was it when Andrew was a kid?

“I’m happy you feel better. When you’re ready you can hop on the mattress. And you can bring that annoying guy with you if you want. I can even give him away to you altogether. He’s useless anyway.”

Cedric’s face is still buried in Andrew’s shirt when the voice goes no.

“No? You think he’s useful? We should keep him around?”

Yes.

“Alright. We’ll keep him around then. Maybe he can help you hop on the bed.” And with that, Aaron sends Andrew a pointed look.

Cedric takes his face away from Andrew’s shirt and walks towards the bed on his own. Andrew follows but doesn’t try to touch him.

“Ok, you’re doing great, kid. You can take off your shirt and your pants if you feel ready.”

Cedric is immediately ready. He moves mechanically, with zero emotions on his face.

Aaron stands up slowly, checking for any changes in the boy’s mood. But the boy’s mood is practically non-existent, it’s like he’s not even here.

The doctor does nothing but look at Cedric’s front. He inspects his chest and neck and runs a quick look along the arms. “Does anything hurt right now?”

No.

“Ok. I’m going to go around the bed to look at your back. I won’t touch you.” Aaron does just that.

Andrew can’t see anything alarming, except for the boy’s ribs sticking out a bit too much.

Aaron must be of a different opinion though, because something sets him off. “Can you raise your arms, please?”

It takes a while, but Cedric slowly raises his arms, like the police ordered him to.

Aaron tilts his head and stares under his armpit. Andrew sees what his brother has been looking for. There are a series of marks, little burns, all centered in the same place.

Andrew knows what he’s seeing, because it’s happening in front of his eyes, someone grabbing this boy by the arm, putting out his cigarette where the mark wouldn’t be easily discovered, where they boy could have easily hidden it. It happened multiple times, on the same spot. It was impossible to tell how many times exactly. The markings overlapped.

“You can put your arms down, now. Thank you. When you’re ready, I’d need you to hop down on the floor again, with your legs a little wide.”

This one takes longer, and by the end of it, Cedric’s wide stance is not very wide at all. Aaron doesn’t correct him, though. He warns him that he’s getting closer and that he won’t touch him.

Aaron has to crawl on the floor to get a good look from every angle. He stops a second too long at some point. Andrew can’t help himself; he has to know. When he looks down at the same direction that had his brother halt, he sees another burn mark on the boy’s inner thigh. High up, as close to the boxers as it can possibly get.

Andrew already knew he was going to murder someone, but he hadn’t known just how much he was going to make them suffer before.

“Thank you for your patience. You can put your clothes back on.” Aaron gets up and goes back to his chair. He turns to the desk as the boy gets dressed and scribbles something on a notebook. “I just need to take your weight and your height, and then you’re all done.”

Cedric follows the doctor’s directions onto the scale, and next to the measure tape.

A couple of minutes later, they all gather out of the infirmary to wait for Ray. Aaron still has that alien smile on his face.

“He’s underweight. Be mindful that he eats a lot, ok?” He says, like that had been the entire focus of the visit, like they didn’t have anything more relevant to talk about.

“You can keep those buttons, kid. I’ve got another one of those in my office. It’s useful, right?”

The button says yes, but everything in Cedric’s stance is asking them to stop addressing him.

Aaron smiles up at Andrew and whispers in German, “I have to call CPS.”

Andrew tries his fucking best to keep his voice equally non-threatening, but he doesn’t bother with the German. There’s no reason to hide any of this from Cedric. “Don’t make me repeat myself. You know I hate it.” Andrew shouldn’t need to explain why they can’t call someone that would get the police involved, when they are neck deep in the mafia’s plans. “I have everything under control.”

“You do?! Do you know who the… culprit is?” Aaron follows in English. “Do you know if they have access to other children? You don’t have shit under control.”

“I said I’m going to handle it.”

“And how exactly are you going to handle it without the police? What’s your plan exactly? Murder this guy?”

Andrew doesn’t think he needs to answer.

“Oh, my God. Please, Andrew, tell me you’re not actually planning on murdering someone.”

That word gets thrown around in Andrew’s brain until it burns. He has gotten better at managing his triggers over the years, but Cedric’s visit has been taxing. It has pulled all the strings that lead to one of his mental breakdowns. Except that he can’t break down, Cedric is still next to him, still close like he can somehow take comfort in Andrew’s presence.

That’s why Andrew tries to pull himself back together quietly, even if it means looking weak in front of Aaron, with his eyes closed shut and his breathing getting deep. “You’re ok.” Andrew promises to that screaming kid in his head. “You’re not there, you’re here, and you’re ok.”

Once he opens his eyes again, Aaron’s silence feels too loud.

“Don’t say that word.” Andrew says, like he did a million times before. He’s so tired. There’s no point saying things, nobody ever listens anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron whispers. Andrew forces his gaze back to his brother and finds him hunched, unsettled, like he’s just made the fucking discovery of the century. Turns out, Andrew always had a reason for the stupid nonsense he was fussy about. All this time, he had just needed to look like a pathetic wreak for Aaron to take him seriously.

“I didn’t…”

“Shut the fuck up. You did know. Shut the fuck up.” It’s all Andrew can manage without risking throwing hands. But he can’t lose control like that in front of Cedric.   

Andrew shows his hand to the boy again, and the kid grabs his sleeve. “We’ll go get Ray.”

His brother doesn’t try to stop them or follow them, and Andrew is glad for that.

The hallways are drenched in silence. Neither Andrew nor Cedric make any sound as they walk.

Andrew can feel that little hand hanging from his cuff.

“I know someone hurt you.”

Cedric doesn’t show he heard or understood what Andrew said, he just keeps walking, eyes fixed ahead.

“It was wrong, and evil, and none of it was your fault. It will never happen again; this I promise you.”

Andrew dares looking down. There is nothing on the boy’s face, and Andrew can almost hear the voice in his mind: “I don’t care that they hurt me, I don’t care about your promise, I don’t care about anything anymore.”

It’s not true. Andrew wants to tell him. You’re deceiving yourself. The only way to not care is to die. And you are not allowed to die before I do.

They visit every room on the ground floor before thinking of heading out. That’s where they find Ray and Bee, in the gazebo sheltered from the sun.

The gardeners are tending to the trees and the flowers, there’s a yellow hose abandoned next to the fountain. The heat is not too intense, it’s almost peaceful out there.

As they get closer, Andrew sees Ray comfy on the bench next to Bee. The boy is smiling at her, not with cruelty or mockery, but with simple joy. There are toys scattered around the place, half of them destroyed, and Ray has a massive donut in his hands which probably contributed to his cheery disposition.

“Cedric is done with his visit, it’s your turn, Ray.”

Ray loses his good mood in the span of a second. “I’m busy! Go away!”

In response, Bee laughs softly, like Ray’s attitude is just a funny pretence. “How about we walk back together? So I can get back to my car and take the present. I’ll give it to you as soon as you’re done with your check-up. How does that sound?”

Judging by how the boy’s eyes light up, it sounded wonderful. Ray jumps down from the bench, very mindful of his donut. He reserves an annoyed look for Andrew and a menacing one for Cedric.

“Don’t touch my toys, bedwetter.”

Ray’s toys don’t look like much. What used to be three superhero action figures is now just a heap of limbs and heads. Doll sized clothes are scattered all around, torn, dusted. A solitary group of building blocks have been crashed with a rock.

Bee raises with a pained groan, like her knees are just about to give out. Andrew is instantly angry at her: for not doing exercise, for not following the fucking diet that her cardiologist gave her.

“I’m ok,” she lies with one of her smiles, which infuriates him even more.

“Are the donuts only for the kids?” He asks as they start to go indoor.

“You can have one, if you want.”

“That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant. Are you talking to someone about your slow attempt at killing yourself?”

Bee simply rolls her eyes.

Once the doors for the stadium are opened, Ray immediately runs ahead, while Bee’s heavy breathing slows her down. Andrew observes her struggling for about twenty seconds, before offering an arm with a disgusted look. “My one-legged man can do better than that.”

“Your one-legged man is an athlete. I’m just a sweet old lady.”

“You’re not old.”

She pats his arm with a huff of laughter. “Oh, my boy.” That’s all she has to say.

Aaron has found his fake good mood again for the sake of the new kid he has to visit. Ray doesn’t look worried in the least; he just seems pissed and like he wants to get his present quickly.

“We’re gonna be super fast, little man.” Aaron promises as he welcomes Ray into the infirmary.

Andrew is hovering at the entrance, unsure of whether it’s a good idea to leave Ray alone to do this, if he can leave Cedric with Bee, or if he should bring Cedric in the room with him.

“Alright, kiddo. I am a doctor, but not the scary kind.”

“Pff… doctors aren’t scary,” Ray replies with his annoying voice. “You’re just a bunch of nerds.”

“Oh, but we can also do crazy magic tricks. Wanna see one? This is one of my favorites: you just say “goodbye, asshole”, and that creepy man at the door will disappear. Wanna try?”

Ray turns around with the biggest, happiest smile, like he’s having the best day of his life, “Goodbye, asshole!”

Andrew takes a second to roll his eyes and then leaves the two of them to their privacy.

Cedric ignores all the toys Bee offers him. He refuses to talk, look at her, or even use the new button thing Aaron gave him.

Andrew suspects that the doctor appointment had taken most of his mental energy, so he doesn’t ask the boy to do more than stand by the fountain and look at the water running, while aggressively munching on a donut.

“So, is this normal behavior for him?” Bee asks looking from her bench under the gazebo.

“Pretty much. He gets more energetic on the court and at meals, but not by much.”

“Did he ever speak?”

“He said his name to one of the girls and that’s it, as far as I know.”

Bee’s brows furrow, it’s a pensive look Andrew doesn’t like. “There were cigarette burns under his armpit and on his thigh. Whoever hurt him was careful not to leave too many traces. Those burns could easily be mistaken for birthmarks, especially in the eyes of someone that doesn’t want to deal with the issue.”

Bee takes a deep breath. “Ray called him a bedwetter?”

“Mh, almost every night.”

“But he has appetite. Does he hoard food?”

Andrew opens his mouth to deny, but then thinks better of it. “I have no idea.”

“You should check his room, but talk to him about it first. Tell him he’s not in trouble if he’s storing food there. And if he is, you should give him a personal refrigerator, one of those tiny ones, with a lock. Give him the key and assure him no one else will get a copy. Oh, you should also do the same for the door of his room, if you didn’t already.”

“That would be difficult. They all share the same room.”

Bee makes a dissatisfied noise. “That’s hardly ideal.”

“I know.”

Cedric is done vaporizing his donut and is now leaning on the fountain, staring deeply at the running water.

“What do you think of Ray?”

Bee takes in the massacre that surrounds her. “He’s very lonely. All his symbolic play was built around the protagonist being isolated from the group, and then taking rightful revenge on those that had pushed him to the side.”

“So, he’s ready to become a supervillain?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s desperate for connection, but he’s also deeply insecure. He needs to be praised a lot, because I have a feeling he was never given clear directions of what good behavior is. You can’t expect someone to be good if everything he’s ever received is curses and yelling. You’ll have to start from the little things, like how patience he has been for listening to instructions all the way. Be specific about what behavior you’re praising, and why it was positive.”

“He’s going to throw it back at my face, I’m sure.”

“Yes, that’s an instinctual response at this point. It’s going to take time to change that. In the meantime, I promise he will greatly benefit from positive reinforcement.”

The doors of the stadium open, but it’s not Aaron and Ray. Neil limps ahead with a pained expression and a hand pressed on his hip. A flock of children happily screams as it disperses on the track field.

Andrew rushes forward.

“Recess?”

“I need a break,” Neil groans.

“You had all the calm children.”

Neil glares at him, points at Melody and says nothing.

Ok, point taken, Mel is not one of the calm children. Also, Neil is clearly hurting, but he’s too stupid to sit down. Years of balls to the head have given tiny concussions to each of his neurons.

Andrew takes him by the wrist and basically drags him to the gazebo to push him on the bench.

“OW, thanks, Drew. Hi, Bee.”

“Hello, Neil, how are you?”

“Great.” And after that enlightening response, he stares right ahead like he’s scared she might use her sorcery against him.

They sit in stony silence for the next twenty minutes. All three of them could have easily made it to forty.

By the end of it, Aaron and Ray appear on the outdoor.

“MY GIFT!!” Ray runs faster than he ever did on the court, jumps on the pavilion and crashes directly onto Bee’s lap. “You said I could have a gift!”

“Yes, of course!” The woman pats his head, which leaves the boy visibly weirded out, but that’s soon forgotten when a package appears. “I hope you like it!”

The careful bow Bee had tied after recovering the box from the car is immediately thrown to the ground. The cardboard is ripped, and a slimy monstrosity appears in the boy’s hands.

It’s… Andrew is not sure what it is. It’s some green goo man with eyes and something like plastic organs on the inside.

Ray instantly digs his fingers in the creature’s flesh, eviscerates him, beheads him, tears his arms and legs. The monstrosity is destroyed, but when the kid tries to reattach a leg, that weird substance reconnects to the main body.

Ray squeaks and makes a little jump. Neil looks as dazed as Andrew feels. They have never seen Ray so happy, and it had been a cheap five-dollar toy that made the trick.

“A word?” Aaron doesn’t step into the gazebo. He creeps at the edges, like he’s not suer if he’s allowed.

So the twins withdraw to the trees’ lane, and they don’t speak until they are covered in the shadow.

“How did it go?”

Aaron shakes his head, his pale hair looks damp, like he’s soaking in sweat. “Ray was calm for the whole thing. His body is covered in bruises that are more than one week old. Since he seemed well disposed, I pressed him. He said it was none of my fucking business what happened, which I honestly understand.”

“Of course you do. Anything else?”

“I’m sorry I triggered you earlier. And for all those other times I didn’t listen to you.”

Andrew doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t need to be here.

Aaron blocks his escape route. “Can I just… can we talk? We’ve never…” He sighs, a long, painful sound. “Give me ten minutes. Ten minutes and then I’m done.”

Andrew crosses his arms, fights back against his natural instinct to push, hit, hurt. He’s going to regret it. He nods.

Another long sigh, and then Aaron takes off. “From day one that I’ve known of your existence I’ve wanted this to work. But we never… we never got there, did we? I mean… we see each other twice a year and when we do, we fight. Before therapy we were… I don’t even know how to describe that. I could never understand you. You were just… a menace in my head, nothing you did made sense to me. I felt like a hostage. But then… Drake happened and… some things started to click, I started to see some logic in your behavior. But then you were so mad at me for Katelyn, and it’s like you never stopped. And… And I feel like, from there, we just gave up.

“When I was going through the specialization, I felt like I started to understand some of who you are. Which… I know it’s pathetic that I had to take years of classes in child abuse to be able to just relate to my brother. But…

“I wasn’t fine either, Andrew. But now I’m in a better spot and looking back… I realize you saved my life. I’m not just talking about mom, I don’t think she would have ever gotten that far. But… it’s the whole thing. If you never came into my life, I’m sure I would have died before turning eighteen. It would have been the drugs, or it would have been me. And if I somehow survived my self-destructiveness, I would have never made it into college by myself, my grades were shit, because I was always high, and mom kept murmuring in my ear how I would have never made something of myself. And I believed her.

“But then you came. And I understand what happened from your perspective now, you got rid of my abuser, got rid of the drugs. You found us a house, a job. You got me into college and made sure I got my degree. I am who I am today because of you. And I accept that now, but back then… I was just so angry. It felt like you came into my life to torture and belittle me. You wouldn’t even talk to me. You would hit me if I touched you.”

The rant is over. It hasn’t been even two minutes, but it looks like Aaron has run out of things to say.

Andrew shrugs. That is terrible communication but that’s also everything he can muster at the moment.

Aaron seems disappointed, but in an instant he hides that look, like he knows he’s being unfair.

“I want us to have more than what we have now, and I’m willing to work for it. Is this something you’d… want?”

That is a ridiculous question. It had always been Aaron the one to push back. Andrew had never wanted him gone.

But his brother is looking more and more disappointed, as if Andrew’s silence means rejection.

They will never understand each other, will they?

Andrew grabs his arm as Aaron turns to leave.

He nods.

Chapter Text

“You’re not in trouble, ok?” Andrew has repeated it at least five times since they got into the kids’ bedroom. Neil has pushed everyone out and warned them not to come back until their teeth were glowing.

Only Cedric remains.

“We just need to find a better solution for this,” Andrew continues. Cedric’s trunk is standing between them, half filled with stale bread and apple cores.

The boy is staring at his feet, his hands are twisting the hem of his shirt. His stillness is different than usual, his shoulders are tense. It’s like he’s sure punishment will follow.

“I don’t understand what the issue is,” Neil says, feeling bad for the kid. “He’s just being sensible. It’s always good to have some stocks somewhere. You never know what could happen.”

Andrew shots him an annoyed look as he starts fishing out the moldy bread. “The issue is not the stocking nor the stealing.” He’s looking at Neil as he speaks, but it’s clear that quiet voice is meant for Cedric. “We just don’t want him to get sick. Food that isn’t properly stored could get spoiled.”

Cedric has stopped breathing since the word stealing has been uttered.

Neil can’t really stand to see him getting tortured like this. “You’re being ridiculous,” he says in Russian. “The kid is not an idiot. He wouldn’t have eaten the moldy bits, I’m sure. This is not a behavior we should discourage; he’s being prudent.”

Andrew doubles down on the annoyed look. “This is not prudency, you absolute fucking moron. This is him not trusting us to keep feeding him. It’s not a good thing.”

Neil shrugs. “You never know what could happen. We might die, the kitchen could burn. We are in the middle of the desert. He’s being prudent.”

Andrew looks done with this whole thing, and yet, he stays controlled and collected as he cleans the last bits of food and turns back to Cedric again. “We will get you some plastic boxes where you can keep everything you want. And we’ll get you a minifridge to store anything that needs refrigeration. And we’ll buy a lock for your trunk as soon as possible, so you don’t have to worry about anyone taking your things. We’re not angry that you’re doing this, it’s ok. But I want you to know that we will never withhold food from you, or any of the others. Do you understand?”

Cedric nods. Neil knows he doesn’t believe any of that, and why would he?

The other children storm into the room like a buffalo herd, all dressed in comfy shirts and pants. There’s only nine of them, but with Judie and David screaming every time they want to say anything (which is all the time) they feel like forty, at least.

“Ok, ok, everyone! Quiet down! Get to your beds! We have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

There’s a lot of buzzing, pillows flying, blankets crumpling. Tiny feet climbing on tiny stairs.

Sadie doesn’t even pretend to go to sleep, she just hops next to Andrew and glues herself to his side. She refuses to settle in her bed unless Andrew spends at least half an hour rocking her in his arms like she’s a baby.

If there’s one behavior they shouldn’t indulge, is that one.  

Cedric slips beneath his blanket when Andrew asks him to. They all say goodnight. Andrew picks up the little princess and they leave the room in the darkness of the night. The door is shut, and the hallway is quiet.

“We scared the shit out of him for nothing.”

“It’s not nothing!” Andrew snaps, already patting the back of the very big baby leaning on his shoulder. “He’s a child, and he thinks that if he doesn’t provide for himself nobody else will.”

“Ok, but let’s go back to that scenario where you and I both die, and the kitchen burns down. Cedric would be the only one to have some tools to survive. And you want to discourage that?”

“I want him to not worry about how he would survive if you and I both died, and the kitchen burned down. That’s not a healthy mindset.”

“The staying alive kind of mindset?”

“Look, Neil, if you want to get to your thirties without addressing your fucking issues, that’s fine by me. You’re an adult. You make your own choices. But you don’t get to enable Cedric because you’re uncomfortable admitting that it’s not normal that you keep at least two energy bars on your person at all times.”

Neil scoffs, and since Andrew doesn’t seem to care, he scoffs again but louder. “Not normal… who the fuck decides what’s normal anyway? Yes, I used to hide food in my room as a kid, you did too.”

“And now I don’t anymore. Could it be the wisdom of adulthood, or could it be the ten years of intense psychological therapy, if I no longer feel like my life and safety are at risk every second of my existence?”

Neil shuts his mouth and glares. Sometimes with Andrew that’s all he can do.

“You guys are being too loud,” Sadie complains with her mouth pressed to Andrew’s shirt.

“Go to sleep in your bed then.” Neil is already out of patience.

Andrew shakes his hand at Neil, like he’s an annoying bug. Neil takes the hint and leaves the couple to their unhealthy bedtime routine. Andrew is going to rock Sadie up and down the hallway, until she falls asleep.

As soon as Neil reaches their quarters, the cats assault him with high pitched meows. Their bowls gets magically filled with some nasty looking cat food, so the complaints are immediately quenched.   

Neil drops on the bed and starts the complicated affair that is lowering his pants. He then unhooks his prosthetic, lets it drop somewhere on the floor and groans as he sinks his head into the pillow.

He needs a shower, but he’s too tired, he can’t stay on his feet any longer. Maybe with Andrew’s help he could do it, but he doesn’t want to ask.

The weeks after the accident have already been too hard to bear. Neil hates being helpless.

Dependent.

There are two plastic handles in the showers now, and a little seat that can be lowered right under the jet.

When Neil had very politely asked for some explanations, Andrew had stared at him without blinking for two minutes.

If Neil doesn’t want to be dependent, he should have welcomed those additions with an open heart. Instead, he’d felt insulted.

“It’s disability equipment for safety.” Andrew had explained after his two minutes of patronizing silence. “It’s for disabled people,” he’d continued slowly. “Because you are disabled.”

Andrew has never been one to beat around the bush.

Neil is staring at the ceiling now. He can hear Andrew’s voice humming softly in the hallway.

An intense desire to jump on his feet and start running hits him. He can’t do anything about it though. That itch will remain unscratched today, and for all days to come.

He doesn’t realize he’s falling asleep until something blocks his airway. He slams his eyes open, gasping for air, and finds Andrew standing next to him with King in his hands.

“W-were you suffocating me with the cat?”

“The cat asked me to do it.”

Neil’s head falls on the pillow again. “Did the princess fall asleep?”

“Mh-hm. You need to shower.”

“I’m tired.”

“Then you can be tired on the floor. You’re not stinking my bed.”

Neil closes his eyes and ignores his dear half. Cat’s claws fall on his face. King skyrockets himself out of the way before Neil can catch him.

“You’re an asshole.”

“The next thing to accidentally drop on your face will be your fancy leg. Get up.” Andrew doesn’t wait for Neil to get up, though. He takes the prosthetic and starts working on the hooks to put it back in place.

Neil complains some more, and Andrew ignores him some more. Neil is pulled on his feet and pushed towards the bathroom, and then into the shower.

Andrew doesn’t stop to take his own clothes off, he steps into the shower and lowers that stupid plastic seat.

“I don’t need that.”

Neil is brutally pushed on the seat. Before he can protest, cold water splashes on his face.

“I will fucking waterboard you if you don’t quit with that shit!” Andrew turns off the water, but keeps the shower head in his hand, in case he needs to attack again. “Three seconds ago you were too tired to shower, and now you don’t need to seat down?!”  

“I don’t want you to treat me like I’m some fucking cripple!”

“You are literally missing a leg!”

“Yes, but I don’t need this bullshit! I don’t want you to become my caretaker!”

Andrew’s look turns dark, his grip on the shower head starts to tremble. “You don’t want me to be your caretaker, but you refuse to take any step that will allow you to not need one. You refuse help and you also refuse to help yourself. I had to listen to you complaining about not being able to walk and then I had to force you everyday into rehabilitation. I have to endure your wining about how much your hip hurts, but you won’t fucking seat for two seconds in that fucking wheelchair. In college, you told me you were done running, but this is worse than running. This is wallowing in self-pity and waiting for slaughter.”

“It’s not like I have another choice! I told you I was done running because I was ready to stand my ground and fight, but now I can’t do either thing! How the fuck am I supposed to fight anyone like this?! If someone comes for me, they will get me. I don’t…”

“They won’t.” Andrew’s calm statement shuts Neil up, but not for long.

A horrible little laugh escapes him. “And what are you going to do, Andrew? Are you going to bring down a whole fucking mafia?”

“You weren’t so skeptical last time I promised to protect you.”

“I don’t want you to promise anything. I’m serious. I don’t know how this ends, but it’s not up to you.”

Andrew seems to think it over for a second. He then turns the water on and splashes Neil’s face again. Only when Neil is severely pissed does Andrew turn it off.

“I won’t live like this, Neil.”

Any annoyance evaporates as an intense sense of dread falls over him. “Y-you want to leave me?”

“What?” Andrew cocks his head, like he doesn’t understand the question. “Leave you? Are you having a stroke? There is no you and me anymore. When I say that I won’t live like this, I mean that I won’t let us live like this.”

Neil wets his lips still feeling his heartbeat going fast like a hare’s. “I thought… you liked this place.”

“Oh, I like the children and the desert. I don’t mind not running into anyone ever. I don’t much enjoy the impending sense of doom reminding me that if a handful of kids don’t throw a ball into a net enough times you could receive a bullet between your eyes.”

“Ok, but what would you even do about the mob? Kill them all?”

Andrew looks at Neil like he’s disappointed. “You don’t know how much you sound like Aaron sometimes.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

Andrew splashes him, this time the water isn’t so cold. The shower head goes back to its place, right above Neil. Andrew turns to grab the shampoo. It’s his signal that the conversation is over.

Its’ not over for Neil, though. They will have to talk about this eventually. Neil can’t let Andrew take this burden on his shoulders; it would be unfair. And there has been enough unfairness in his life already.

Andrew’s fingers intertwine in Neil’s hair, scrubbing with that usual roughness that could never hurt him.

Neil stops his protest before it can escape him. He doesn’t want Andrew to do this. He also doesn’t want to do this himself. He feels like he’s run three marathons today, when in reality he has just been standing around.

Neil has no idea how to stop being a burden. He’d have to find a strength that he doesn’t feel exists right now.

“I’m sorry, Drew.”

Andrew’s grip twists painfully. Neil’s head is pushed so that he’s forced to look up.

Andrew lowers a bit, waits.

“Yes,” Neil whispers.

Andrew kisses him. Hungry, furious, like he wants to tear Neil apart and piece him back together.

His mouth lowers down to Neil’s jaw, down again to the throat.

Neil wants him closer, so close they can truly forget about you and me. Only us. “Drew…”

Andrew steps back. Neil can see he’s aroused beneath his jeans. But Andrew doesn’t move. His eyes dart to Neil’s prosthetic and something in his stance changes.

Neil won’t ask. The last time they had sex was the night before the match that destroyed Neil’s knee. It had been a bit rushed, they had both fallen asleep right after.

This isn’t the first time they go months without sex. Andrew’s journey to recovery had been filled with a lot of setbacks. There were days when Andrew couldn’t bare any form of touch.

Neil has never asked. Andrew doesn’t have to explain himself to Neil, or anyone.

They are going through some hard times. Cedric’s presence could have brought back all sorts of horrible memories.

And Neil’s body isn’t what it once had been.

“I love you.” That is always going to be true, if they never have sex again, or if Andrew decides to leave.

Andrew doesn’t answer with his words. He goes back to Neil’s hair and washes out the soap with gentle fingers. So gentle… so gentle that Neil feels safe, trapped in a body that could never run.

Chapter Text

The moment David catches the ball, he smacks it right back in any random direction, like the point is to get rid of it as soon as possible.

Theo crushes his racquet to the ground cursing in tight Japanese as the rival team gets a hold of the ball again, just outside of the goal line.

Jiro takes two steps, Cedric doesn’t even try to block him, he just watches him go. The ball flies from the prince’s net.

Sadie tries her best, but her arm is at least half a foot too short.

Neil covers his face with his hands. He doesn’t want to witness this massacre anymore.

As soon as the ball is back in the game, Melody fights Judie for ownership. Judie is a great player, balanced in every position, but she stands no chance against Melody’s aggressive game.

The redheaded psycho gains the ball, finds her striker in a fraction of a second and shoots with the precision of a rifle.

Jiro catches the ball. He didn’t even need to move.

Sadie tries her best every time, Neil can’t deny that. But the ball goes through anyway. Like it always does.

Neil claps and puts a smile on his face. “OK, OK! Good job everyone!”

“Everyone?” Ray repeats like that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard, and Neil ignores him.

Ray’s a little shit outside the court, but in the game he doesn’t give Neil much thought except for the obligatory scuffle. “Ok, I want Sadie, David and Cedric here. Everyone else can start with the cool-down exercises.”

David hops Neil’s way, as jolly as ever. Sadie looks pissed and Cedric looks his usual nothing.

Neil has mentally named them the disaster crew. Three out of nine of his players were more than just useless, they were actively detrimental to the team.  

“Sadie, you’re improving, but you’re still too slow.” Neil stops, doesn’t know what to say next. Sadie is too slow because she’s a six-year-old playing against eight- to ten-year-olds. Her arms are too short, and so what? It’s not like Sadie can train harder into having longer arms.

“Hm, how about you train some more with Andrew, today?”

Sadie stomps one feet and sulks.

“Yeah, you and Andrew go great together. Drew? Do you mind?”

Andrew doesn’t inform Neil whether he minds or not. He raises from his bench and scoops up the lady.

“Alright.” Neil turns to the stony child. “Cedric, you’re a good backliner,” Neil lies. “But you need to be more aggressive. You don’t have to worry about hurting your teammates, they are wearing protections.”

Cedric nods, which is his standard response to just about anything.

Neil sighs. “And David. Kid, you really need to stop and think sometimes.”

David purses his lips, looking guilty. “I just get excited when I get the ball.”

“I know, but getting the ball is just half the job. You also have to throw it in the right direction.”

The sound of doors squeaking stops Neil. On the threshold there are two people: Beatrice, the woman that had taken Neil and Andrew around the Eyrie Court, and Asahi, the very polite Japanese man that had visited Neil at the hospital and had entrusted Jiro in his care.

“You two, go with the others.”

Neil turns and walks calmly towards the newcomers while they do the same. Andrew is looking at the group from the goal.

“Welcome.” Neil finds his father’s smile hidden somewhere within himself and plasters it on his face. “How can I help you?”

Asahi, with his hands tucked behind his back, speaks first, “I will be needing Mr. Jiro. He will not be available for the rest of the day.”

Neil hates this. Hates it so much.

When he turns to the boys, he finds Jiro already approaching. The kid removes his helmet and gloves as he walks, and as soon as he reaches them, he bows. “Good afternoon, sir.”

“Go get changed, quickly,” Asahi orders.

“Yes, sir.” There is absolutely nothing in the boy’s voice or face that can give away what he’s thinking. He rushes to the lockers leaving them with just a nod.

“May I know what you need my striker for?”

“You may not.”

The woman laughs like that was a great joke. “On the other hand, I can tell you exactly what I’m doing here, Coach Josten. I have this year’s districts schedule. You might want to take a look at it.”

Right. The ERC had decided this season’s starting matches.

“Very well. We’ll talk in my office.” Neil gets to the door right when the Moriyama kid comes back. Neil keeps the door open and gestures for the three of them to precede him, so he has a chance to follow Jiro and Asahi with his eyes out of the Court and into the hallway. They take the first turn right.

That is the way to the stairs.

Neil doesn’t think they are heading for the cafeteria or the kids’ bedroom.

The third floor.

“Shall we go?” The woman is smiling sweetly, and if there’s one thing Neil doesn’t trust is a sweet smile.

“Sure. Let me just gather the kids.” In the time that it took to utter that sentence, Andrew materializes next to him.

“Mr. Minyard.” Beatrice acknowledges him, but there’s something like mockery in that greeting. “I guess I can always know where to find you.”

Andrew doesn’t even look at her, all his attention is for Neil. In Russian, he says, “Why are they here?”

“I’m not sure. Keep an eye on the children. I’ll be in my office with the woman.”

Andrew’s nostrils flare. Leaving Neil alone with the woman or leaving the children with some potentially murderous people around?

“I can take care of myself. You look after the kids.” Neil doesn’t give him much of a choice, he turns around and gestures for Beatrice to follow him.

The woman precedes him into the hallway and waits for him. “Are you settling fine, Mr. Josten?”

“We can skip the pleasantries, miss Beatrice. I don’t like you and I don’t trust you.”

“Oh, dear.” A mocking smile appears. “Whatever have I done to deserve such harsh judgment?”

Neil just stares her down as they walk to the office. He is painfully aware of his uncertain gait. He’s aware that she’s healthy and taller, and even though she doesn’t look very strong, Neil has no doubt she would be able to overpower him. He hasn’t felt this helpless since he was a frozen child in his father’s basement.

“This way.” He reaches the door to his office and pauses before turning the knob. Something feels wrong. Did Neil close it last time? He’s almost entirely sure he didn’t leave the door closed all the way.

Someone has been here. Are they in right now? Is this a trap?

Neil looks back at the woman. She is giving nothing away.

Neil smashes the door open, slamming it against the wall. If someone had been hiding behind it, they would have been at least stunned. But there is no one there.

“That was loud,” the woman comments. “Is there a problem, Mr. Josten?”

Neil scans the room. Everything seems to be in its rightful place. There aren’t any real hiding spots. There’s a desk, three chairs, shelves...

Neil’s gaze falls on the three cabinets pushed against the wall. They could not fit an adult. A child, though?

Paranoia subsides, but only slightly. Neil has some vague idea of who had touched his door.

“Be my guest.” Neil hobbles to his chair behind the desk. Beatrice takes the place in front of him.

“So, how have these first few days gone? How is the team?”

“Good.”

Beatrice raises a single perfect eyebrow. “Good? I am aware I sent you some challenges. I wanted you to get a hang of your new role. I know going from player to Coach is not the easiest change.”

“I’m doing fine.”

“Right. Would you like to have a look at some other candidates for your players? As for the ones you want to discard…”

“No one gets discarded.”

Beatrice stops with her hands halfway to her handbag. “No one? I’m sorry, Mr. Josten, you mean to tell me this first bunch of children is exactly what you need in order to create a new Perfect Court? No rotten apples? Not even one? I have a lot of options you can look…”

“There are no rotten apples.” Neil crosses his arms. He has no idea what he would do if Beatrice asks him to watch the kids play. He’d be fucking lucky to have just one rotten apple.

Beatrice smiles so sweetly Neil shivers.

“Not even Malcolm?”

Neil doesn’t let it show on his face, how much he wants to get rid of the girl. “Melody is a great dealer.”

“And a treat to talk to, I’m sure.”

Neil shrugs, “I don’t need her to entertain someone in polite conversation, I need her to catch the ball and shoot it to the striker, and that’s precisely what she does.”

Beatrice seems to be dying to add something else, but she’s refraining. “If you say so. You are the Coach.”

“I am.”

“What about Cedric Hart?”

“What about him?”

“Well, his guardian didn’t seem too convinced his kid could shine here. He said Cedric would be the first one to be sent back.”

“Cedric isn’t going anywhere.” Neil is very calm as he says this. He is so calm his nails are drawing blood in his tight fists.

“So, he’s a good addition to the team?”

“He’s essential.”

Beatrice claps her hands. Neil is sure her eyes are full of derision.

“Marvelous! Everything is going smoothly!”

“Absolutely.”

“Let me just give you the ERC files, then. Here. And here. The season starts in two months. It’s not much time, I know, but since you’re doing so well you won’t have any issues taking this team to the top of the rankings, I’m sure. There. Everything you need to know about the other teams is in this folder. For any questions I am always at your service.”

Neil gathers the papers with a vague growing numbness in his chest. Two months. There is no way he can get those kids into shape at this pace. They’ll have to work harder.

“I believe we are done here.” As Beatrice gets up, the door opens.

Andrew steps in without pausing at the woman’s side. He puts a hand on Neil’s shoulder and lowers to his ear. “Melody is not with the others,” he whispers.

Yup, cause she’s in the cupboard.

“Mr. Minyard, this was a private conversation.” Beatrice smiles at Andrew like she’s a kindergarten teacher and he’s a naughty toddler. “I would like to remind you that you are not technically involved in this project.”

“Thank you for reminding me.”

“Oh, dear,” she laughs. “Mr. Minyard, we are all greatly amused at your attitude, for now. But I would be very careful if I were you. The people you are dealing with are not known for being the most understanding and patient.”

Neil grabs Andrew’s hand before he can reply.

“We are perfectly aware of the situation,” Neil says. “If we are done here, I happen to be very busy today.”

“But of course, Mr. Josten. I wouldn’t dream of taking too much of your time.” Beatrice offers her hand to Neil first.

Neil shakes it and tries not to feel like he’s shaking hands with an anthropomorphic snake.

Andrew is also offered a hand but, as his usual, he ignores the offer completely.

Beatrice finds it hilarious. “Keep up the good work, boys. I’ll be back every once in a while to check on you and the team.”

She turns her back on them and, just like that, she’s gone.

Andrew closes the door behind the snake. “I can’t find her.”

Neil’s eyes fly to the cupboard as he replies: “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Andrew follows his gaze. Apparently, he’s not in a mood to play games, because he straight ups walks to the cupboard and slams it open.

Melody squeaks, which is a sound Neil has never ever thought he would ever hear coming from her mouth.

“Out,” Andrew orders.

The girl quickly wiggles out of her tiny hiding spot with her teeth bared. Being discovered and spooked doesn’t make for a happy Melody.

The girl straightens up and keeps herself in a weird stance. Her back is to the wall with the cupboard, her legs are slightly apart, like she’s ready to run, but she’s keeping her hands behind her back. If she’s trying to look apologetic, she isn’t doing a very good job.

“You’re not allowed to do that.” Andrew’s voice is the harshest Neil has ever heard him use with the kids. “You are not allowed to disappear from me.”

Mel looks stunned that she’s not being scolded for eavesdropping, but for disappearing. She’s still holding herself in that weird position, and it strikes Neil that maybe she’s not trying to look apologetic, keeping her hands behind her back. She’s hiding something.

He gets up. Mel’s eyes dart to him and follow his every movement.

“We are not mad that you were listening.”

Something snaps. Her war between fear and anger is done, anger takes over. “I don’t give a shit what you are or aren’t mad about! You’re a fucking idiot! Why would you keep Cedric in the team?! He’s dead weight!”

“You did not hide down there because you wanted to know if I’d get rid of Cedric. I told you I wouldn’t send you away.”

There’s an ugly feeling shining in her eyes. Something twisted and broken that should never appear on a kid’s face.

“You wouldn’t send me away. Of course. You need me. I’m your best player.”

“Theo is my best player. Then there’s Judie and Harry. You’re a good dealer, but you don’t know how to play in a team. The other kids don't like you, they won't cooperate with you easily.”

Neil gets closer and the girl tenses more. He has a bad feeling about this. “Show me your hands.”

“Fuck you.”

He gets closer. “Melody…”

The girl panics. Her arm moves, but before she can raise the gun, Neil is grabbing the barrel, twisting it to the ceiling and slapping her wrists so hard she loses her grip.

“Oh my god.” Andrew sounds shocked. Andrew is never shocked. Had he not guessed Melody was holding a weapon?

No time for this right now.

“Where did you take this?”

Melody looks so small now that she has lost her advantage. “I wasn’t going to shoot.”

“I don’t care what your intentions were. I want to know where did you take this and if you have other weapons.”

Melody swallows.

“This isn’t a joke. Tell me now.”

“And what are you going to do if I don’t tell you?” Her eyes shine with her last crumble of bravery.

Neil sighs. He turns the gun in his hand and ejects the magazine. It’s scary how automatic that gesture still is, after all these years.

“I’m not going to do anything, Melody. I don’t have it in me to do anything to you. Even if you shoot me.”

“Then you are weak.”

“Maybe. But weak is not the worst thing you can be.”

Mel opens her mouth, and just leaves it slightly open. Neil imagines where her mind is at the moment, he knows that concept must be incomprehensible for her.

Neil lets the silence stretch for a while. It doesn’t look like Melody is going to add anything.

“Do you have other weapons?”

“No,” she spats.

“Do you know how to shoot?”

“I’ve killed people before.”

Neil knows it’s not pride that’s keeping her back so straight. It’s a warning. Fear me. I’m dangerous. Stay away.

“Where did you take the gun?”

“It was a gift from my mother.” Her sudden smile is hiding something ugly.

Neil isn’t so sure he wants to know what’s behind that story. He sighs, looks at the empty gun and its magazine.

Dan’s textbooks on parenting never mentioned scenarios like these, so Neil can’t really say he’s doing the wrong thing for sure.

He holds out the two pieces towards the girl. “The gun stays unloaded, locked in your trunk. Do I make myself clear?”

This is the moment Melody must be genuinely wondering about his sanity. She takes the gun. “Are you stupid?”

“Yes. Now, promise Andrew you will warn him next time you plan on disappearing.”

Melody looks down at the gun, up at Neil, down at the gun again. And then looks at Andrew. “I don’t promise you shit.”

One of Andrew’s rare smiles appears. If she had promised, he would have kept her on her word. But she refused to, knowing she isn't going to abide by that promise. She’s being honest, and Andrew values honesty above all.

“Go put that away and get back with the others.”

“You are both insane.” She has one last dirty look for them, before she darts through the door.

Andrew is ready to shut it behind her. “You just jumped in front of a gun. You just jumped in front of a gun. It’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. And somehow, also the sexiest.”

“What?”

“She’s right, though; you’re an idiot.”

Neil thinks back on his decision and he’s aware it hasn’t been the smartest, but he can’t imagine taking away her gun.

Wherever Melody came from, it’s a place she’s scared to be sent back to. Scared enough to keep a gun close.

In his years on the run, a gun and a bulletproof vest had been the only two things to give him a precarious sense of control. Without those things, Neil would have drowned in terror and paranoia.

“I know, Drew. I know. But she’s ten. Ten it’s not so young that she wouldn’t understand how dangerous a gun can be.”

“Riiiight. How old were you the first time you hold a gun?”

Neil had been six. It had been just for shooting practice; his father’s men hadn’t given him a living target yet. It was essential that he knew how to shoot, but firearms weren’t the preferred weapon of a Wesninski.  

Neil had to wait his seventh birthday. Then, he was given a knife. There was blood under his fingernails.

“Neil?”

The present unfolds. He’s in his office. Andrew is there.

“I don’t remember. I was too small.”

Andrew’s lips are drawn in a tight line. “Sure. Of course. And are we just going to trust that Melody really does know how to use a gun?”

“I’ll teach her. Even better, I’ll teach all of the kids. You never know if…”

“If you and I both die, and the kitchen burns down, and then what? The nazis come to take them?”

“I’m not being paranoid. They’re not exactly living in a safe situation. I’d rather know that they can defend themselves.”

“We are here to defend them. They don’t need to be tiny soldiers.”

“We are fallible, Drew. And if we fall, what would it be of them? My mother defended me until she no longer could, and when she was killed, I survived because she taught me how to survive.”

“Oh? Are we taking parenting tips from your mother, now? We should also start beating up the kids when they speak out of turn, then.”

Neil shuts his mouth. There is no talking with Andrew when he’s in this mood.

Andrew doesn’t say anything either. His expression is relentless.

Neil understands where Andrew’s coming from. Really. He wants to be the protector they never had; he wants to spare the children from the dangerous reality they are living in, he wants to preserve their innocence, he wants them to never need to fight for their lives.

And that would all be great if they weren’t living in the real world.

“I’m teaching the kids how to shoot, and that’s the end of that. That doesn’t mean I’ll ever voluntarily put them in a position where they have to shoot someone. But if they are ever in that situation, I want them to know what to do.”

Chapter Text

Something is super weird. David doesn’t know exactly what, but there is something weird going on. Yesterday, a man in a suit had come to take Jiro and they disappeared together until dinner time. 

Later, when Jiro came to the cafeteria, he had been weird. He didn't sit next to David and when Theo had tried to approach him, he snapped at him and told him to leave him alone. When David had tried, Jiro hadn’t been mean to him (he was never mean to him), but he hadn’t been very polite either, which was weird.

Then there is something about Melody. She has always been solitary, but yesterday she had been more than that. David wasn’t sure if she had wanted them all to disappear, or if she had wanted to disappear herself.

At dinner time, Ray had started making a fuss about wanting dessert. The cooks had explained to him once that there wasn’t any and then left him to his brooding. The coaches were sitting at their table, ignoring his tantrum, his yelling, his insults, until it became so disruptive that Coach Andrew had to intervene.

“Just hit him!” Melody had yelled, silencing the tantrum and Andrew’s calm words. “Just hit him and he’ll be done with it!”

Andrew had looked at her straight in the face and said, “I’m not going to hit him.”

So, she had grabbed her plate and smashed it on the table. There had been bits of glass everywhere. It’d been kind of scary.

She left the cafeteria then. Coach Neil followed her, but David didn't hear what they said to each other. 

Now, breakfast time, it’s like yesterday all over again. Jiro is eating alone. He didn't look David’s way all morning.

Melody looks like a volcano that’s about to explode, and the two coaches are eating by themselves in their corner, acting like Ray hitting the leg of the table isn’t annoying.

David looks down at his plate, it’s eggs and rice. He never had rice for breakfast before he got here. Judie and Harry are chatting sleepily at his sides. David likes both of them very much. He likes Sadie too, and Cedric, of course.

Ray… he’s a bit mean sometimes, but it’s not like he’s mean all the time.

David likes Theo too, even if he isn’t always pleasant. Sometimes he laughs at David, and he pinches him if David gets to seat next to Jiro. But apart from that, he’s a pretty good friend.

David isn’t sure about Melody, though. He wants her to be his friend, but he’s a bit too scared of her to try to talk to her.

And then there’s Jiro. He’s all alone, he’s not even looking at his food, he just puts it in his mouth, one piece after the other. No one is sitting next to him, just like he asked.

David isn’t very good when it comes to making friends, even if he does everything grown-ups have always told him: be nice, don’t exclude anyone, play to have fun and not to win, say sorry if you’re wrong.

It all usually works for a while, until it doesn’t, and David doesn’t know why.

He’s scared that’s what is happening right now with Jiro, and he really doesn’t want it to be true, because Jiro has been his nicest friend.

It takes a moment for him to work out the courage to stand up. He takes his chocolate pudding, which at the moment is his most precious possession, and makes his way to Jiro’s table. He takes the long route to avoid Theo’s seat. The boy is already glaring at David for ignoring Jiro’s wishes of being left alone.

But David isn’t going to bother him for long.

“Hi,” David whispers. Jiro stops his mindless eating but doesn’t turn to look at David. He’s so still… like something dead. “I know you want to eat alone. I won’t bother you. I want to give you my pudding, cause I know you like it a lot.” David slides it on the table. Jiro is still not looking at him, still not speaking, and David knows he should respect his wishes and leave him alone.

“I hope we’re still friends,” David whispers, but he’s too scared to hear the answer.

He scatters away and runs back to his place.

He finishes his breakfast trying not to look at Jiro’s table. He fails multiple times. But it’s worth it because Jiro is eating his pudding.

“David,” Uncle Neil calls him with surprise in his voice. “You’re quiet. Are you ok?”

David nods with his mouth full.

“And you’re eating your food without me having to remind you. I’m impressed.”

David flushes a bit at that.

Luckily, Judie arrives in that moment, so she can free David from this attention.

Her thick brown hair has been freshly braided, and she’s smiling like it’s her best day ever.

“You’re late,” Andrew says with no inflection, like he doesn’t really care if she’s late, he only wants to tell her that she is.

“Yes, but for good reason!” She has some papers in one hand and a small package in the other. “It’s mail! For you! You just need to sign this!”

Judie smacks the paper on the Coach’s table.

Andrew looks down at it. “Mail.”

“Mail!”

“In the middle of the desert. Where is the postman?”

“He left. He was in a hurry. Don’t worry about it, just sign.”

Andrew asks for a pen with a gesture.

David is amazed at Judie’s persistence to try to get Andrew’s autograph. This is her third scheme.

Andrew scribbles something on the paper and puts his hands on the package.

“AAAAH!” Judie squeaks and starts jumping up and down with the paper close to her heart.

“Oh, look, Neil. I got a rock.” Andrew lifts it up like he’s very proud of his rock.

“It is a very pretty rock,” Neil says.

Judie’s happy squeaks stop, “heeey! You wrote I’m Batman!”

Her complains remain unheard. Andrew leans in and Uncle Neil kisses him.

David is fascinated. His mom and dad never kiss in front of him.   

“What the fuck.” Ray is staring at the Coaches with his eyes so open it looks funny. “What the fuck! Why did you just do that?!”

Uncle Neil looks between Ray and Andrew, all confused. “Why did we… kiss each other?”

“YES! You’re both boys!” Ray sounds shrill in his disbelief.

David knows why they were kissing each other, because his dad told him.

Uncle Neil seems at a loss for words though.

Judie breaks the silence with her laugh. “You call everyone the F word, but you don’t even know what it means.”

“What?” Ray looks so lost, like he doesn’t even understand if he should be offended.

Uncle Neil scratches his head. “Well, we were kissing each other because we both agree it’s something that we like to do.”

Ray looks even more perplexed. The next to laugh is Melody, which isn’t a good thing, because her laugh is never nice, she laughs to make fun of people.

“They are gay, stupid child. They are men who like to fuck men. If you don’t know what fucking is I can make you a drawing.”

Ray is turning red. “I know what fucking is!”

“Do you? I’m starting to doubt it. You should ask Andrew; he can show you.” Melody’s ugly smile turns to Uncle Neil, she looks right at him when she says, “Andrew has been enjoying being fucked by men since before he was your age, Ray.”

Uncle Neil’s expression looks so terrifying David shivers. But it’s not Coach that moves.

David turns to the sound and sees the scene like it’s happening in slow motion.

Cedric grabs a knife from the table, raises it to Melody’s head and puts all his strength in the swing.

Melody screams and ducks at the same time. The blade misses once, Cedric rises the knife to hit again.

It’s Andrew that saves her that second time. He puts himself in the middle and opens both of his hands to show his palms to the boy. “Don’t stab me.” It should be an order, but it sounds more like a request.

Cedric doesn’t stab him, but he tries to go around Andrew to reach Melody again.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t stab her either.” Andrew doesn’t touch Cedric or tries to take the knife from him, he just keeps blocking his way.

“Get on your feet!” Uncle Neil barks grabbing Melody by the arm. “Out! Get out of my sight!”

By some miracle, or by Neil pushing her all the way out of the cafeteria, Melody obeys. As soon as the girl is out, Cedric stops trying to evade Andrew.

The boy is panting. He is so tense.

The knife clangs when it hits the floor.

David is very still, no one is breathing.

Cedric takes one step back, then another. His ever-motionless face contorts. His lips are pulled down, his shoulders shakes. When he starts crying it’s not a quiet, reserved thing. It’s full-on sobbing, with so many tears his cheeks disappear.

“It’s time for your lessons!” Uncle Neil yells. “Everyone! Get to class and tell the teacher that Cedric is with us.”

The children hesitate. No one wants to leave Cedric like that, but no one wants to get closer either.

Andrew is there, he’s crouching next to Cedric, talking softly to him. So softly David can’t hear what he’s saying over the boy’s sobbing.

Andrew tries to scoot closer, but Cedric smacks him. That little slap surprises everyone; Cedric most of all. That’s when his crying turns into proper screams. He stomps his feet, he claws his face with his nails, like he wants to tear his skin open.

It’s so upsetting, David starts crying too.

“Kids, I said out!” Uncle Neil moves his arms around to push them towards the door like they are a flock of sheep. They all end up in the hallway. Jiro, Theo and Sadie immediately obey and run for the stairs.

“David, it’s ok.” Uncle Neil says, but he says it so absent-mindedly that David knows he doesn’t mean it. David can’t stop it, even though he should. He cries louder.

“Harry, can you take care of David?” Uncle Neil asks, like David is a little baby.

Harry is immediately taking David’s hand. “I’ve got this, Coach. Don’t worry.”

The Coach shots her a grateful look before disappearing in the cafeteria and closing the door behind himself.

David is ashamed of how much comfort he takes in Harry’s presence. “W-why is everyone fighting?” He manages to utter between his tears.

Harry strokes his arm. She looks at the opposite wall of the hallway, where Melody is leaning with a deadly look. “Because Melody said something horrible.”

The sweet girl that tries to make peace everywhere she goes lets go of David’s hand and walks towards Melody, with her blue bow tied tight in her hair.

“Harry, leave it! She’s crazy!” Judie shouts.   

Ray smells more trouble than he’s willing to face, so he turns away and runs for the stairs.

It’s just David and the three girls, now.   

“You should apologize.” Harry is standing right in front of Melody.

Mel looks like she wants nothing more than to have a target. “Don’t tell me what to do, pixie girl. Today is not a good day to cross me.”

“I’m not telling you what to do. I’m telling you what you should do. If you have any decency, you should apologize.”

Mel lunges forward. David and Judie cry out at the same time, but no one gets smacked.

It was a bluff. Harry didn't move an inch, like she knew the hit wasn’t coming, or like she knew she couldn’t have done anything if it was.

Melody seems to find this very amusing. She grabs Harry by the cheek and pulls her face closer. “You are either very brave or very stupid, and I can’t tell which one bothers me more.”

“Harry, get away from her! I mean it! I’ll call Coach!” Judie is torn between getting closer to Harry to stand by her side or keeping herself between David and Melody.

“You should listen to your annoying friend.” Melody smacks Harry’s cheek one more time.

Harry is still as close to Mel as she can be.

Loud steps rumble closer and closer, faster and faster. Jiro appears in the hallway again. He’s out of breath. “The teacher wants all of you in class. Now.”

Harry plays her game of staring down for a couple of seconds longer, only then she relents.

Jiro spots David and rushes to him. His arm slips around David’s shoulders and David immediately forgets how he’d been ignored since yesterday.

“Are you ok?”

David nods. He’s no longer crying. Not on the outside at least. On the inside, he’s still crying a little bit.

“Let’s go.” Judie grabs Harry’s hand and they both head for the stairs.

Jiro turns back. “Did you not hear me?”

Melody leans back on the wall with a dramatic sigh. “Oh no! Not the teacher! I couldn’t bear to disappoint him!”

Jiro’s calm expression hardens. He’s still holding David close. He speaks his next words in Japanese: “Do not test me today, Malcolm. You have already stepped out of line this morning. I will give you three seconds.”

Melody makes a sound like a growl.

“One.”

She pulls from the wall and takes a single step.

Jiro tightens his grip, pulling David even closer.

“As you wish, your majesty,” Meldoy spats. She goes past them, her hands tucked in her pants’ pockets.

David watches her getting smaller and manages to take a breath in.

Jiro looks at him. His expression is calm again. There’s calmness and… something else.

Sorrow?

“Thank you for the pudding,” Jiro says, somehow solemnly. “How did you know I like it?”

David raises his hands to his face to try and clean the mess he has made of it. Jiro is immediately ready with a tissue.

“Oh, thanks. I’ve seen you eat it before. And usually, you don’t care about what you eat, but with the pudding it looked like you were happy.”

Jiro opens his mouth, then closes it again.

“Did you like it?”

“I did.” Jiro tries one of his usual smiles, but it doesn’t come out right. “You are very observant.”

“Mhh.” No one has ever told David he’s observant. “Mr. Suji will get angry if we are late.”

Jiro absently nods and turns to head to the stairs. “I’m sorry if I was distant yesterday. It wasn’t something that you did. I- I get like that sometimes. I need some time alone. But it doesn’t mean we are no longer friends.”

“Oh. Sorry, I thought…”

“No, you don’t have to apologize. It wasn’t polite the way I treated you. I am the one who should apologize. Just- next time remember that everything’s fine. I just need to be by myself. When I get like that, I’m not angry. Even if I don’t look… very happy.” 

David nods. He knows sometimes people need to be alone. Mom and dad had explained this to him many times, because David doesn’t really get it. He has never felt like he wanted to be alone, so it’s hard to understand what it means.

But he tries. And if Jiro says that it’s just something that he needs to do sometimes, David believes him.

Chapter Text

Cedric’s crisis hits like lightning on a sunny day.

Andrew had been ready to stop Neil from doing something stupid, he had never imagined the explosion to come from Cedric, and so Andrew had missed the first slash of the knife.

He had managed to put himself between Melody and Cedric before the second hit.

Once Melody had been escorted out, the boy had dropped the knife, and all the energy that had sustained his assault had left him.

“Listen to me. Seat down a second. Let’s breathe together.” Andrew’s words are drowned in the boy’s frantic sobs. Andrew tries to get closer. He’s on his knees, he’s much less in control of the situation than what he’s trying to show.

Cedric has gone beyond coherent thought. He’s stomping his feet and clawing his face. He’s overrun by panic. It’s that sense of fight or flight when there’s no one to fight, and nowhere to flight.

“Cedric, hold on. Listen to me…” Andrew doesn’t even know what he would have said next, and he never finds out.

Cedric smacks him.

Whatever that slap had made him feel, Andrew pushes it deep deep down, to deal with later.

He slides further away from the boy, giving him space, “It’s ok…”, but Cedric doesn’t believe that. His cries become proper screams. It’s obvious he hadn’t meant to smack Andrew, he had just been panicking.

“They’re all out,” Neil huffs next to Andrew. “What do we do?”

The cafeteria is indeed empty except for the three of them.

“I think…” Andrew doesn’t fucking know what they should do. If it were another child, Andrew might have tried to pick them up and hug them, but Cedric has been robbed of the ability to feel safe through physical contact.

The boy is shrieking, wandering backwards without a real direction of where to go. Tears are running down the red lines he drew with his nails.

His panicked wandering leads him with his back to the wall. The moment he makes contact, his screams intensify, like he’s sure he'll be trapped soon.

“Cedric, you’re ok. Everything is fine, you’re safe.” Useless words that mean nothing. Andrew knows that.

In his terrified fight against the wall, Cedric smacks his head. The first time is an accident; the second and third it’s him trying to make everything stop hurting.

“NO, don’t do that!” Andrew lunges forward. He will respect Cedric’s need for space up to a limit. Causing himself a concussion is that limit. Andrew puts his hand between Cedric’s head and the wall, trying to soften the blows.

“Don’t use your hand!” Neil yells.

“You’ve got better ideas?”

Neil doesn’t. He’s got a worse idea. He takes off his shirt and quickly rumbles it into an improvised pillow.

“Neil!” Andrew hisses, but not fast enough to stop him.

Neil doesn’t seem to understand what the problem is until he registers the silence. Cedric is not moving anymore, he’s not screaming. He’s just staring at Neil’s bare chest, with his face contorted by tears.

“Oh, shit. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine.” Andrew replies with a calm tone to both of them, a clear command to Neil to not make the boy feel more upset than he already is.

“I’ll just…” Neil steps back, “put this back on.”

Cedric is following his every movement, but he doesn’t look as scared as Andrew had imagined. He looks more… stunned than scared. Cedric’s light eyes are following every border of each scar on Neil’s chest.

“Cedric,” Andrew says, softly. More softly than he’d ever known to be capable. The boy turns to him. “Are you ok?” It’s a stupid question, of course he’s not ok, but Andrew remembers all the times he had wished someone would ask.

Cedric shrinks on himself. His slow descent to the floor ends with him curled up in a tight ball.

Andrew feels safe in removing his hand from the wall, it looks like the worst of the crisis has gone by. He crouches next to the boy, though he’s still careful not to take too much of his space.

Those light eyes hiding behind skinny arms are keeping track of the two men in his vicinity. Cedric raises his head just a tiny bit and lowers his gaze to the space that’s keeping him away from Andrew.

He moves his lips. What comes out of his mouth is almost inaudible. Andrew does a lot of guess work and lip reading to understand what he’s saying.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Andrew replies. “It was a bad morning. That’s all. You’ll have bad mornings, and bad afternoons and bad nights, and then you’ll have less and less, until you’ll no longer have any.”

Cedric shrinks some more. Andrew wants to hug him, he wants to hold him up, it’s not fair that Cedric has to stand on his own.

Andrew settles for the next best thing; he places a hand over the boy’s curls. It's not a proper touch, just a presence. Just warmth.

Cedric closes his eyes.

That's when Andrew feels that same wave of possessiveness he has felt for anyone that ever mattered.

He’s mine, his heart decides. And there is no turning back from that.

For the next minute, Andrew and Cedric exist together. Neil is just hovering around them, not really sure where his place is.

At some point, Neil takes the initiative, he hurries to the tables and comes back right away with an untouched pudding cup and a spoon. There is no denying that the way to Cedric’s heart is through his stomach. The kid looks at Neil and at the pudding getting closer and it’s clear he’s ardently hoping it’s for him.

They don’t even attempt to move to a table. The kid had calmed down in that corner, so they are going to stay exactly there.

Neil crouches. His shirt is back in place, but Cedric still glances at his chest as if he can still see the scars beneath.

“Here. Chocolate makes everything better for you sugar freaks.” He removes the plastic and hands the boy both cup and spoon.

Cedric doesn’t need any more prompting.

It’s a good thing that he has appetite, right? Or maybe it means he’s been so malnourished that he feels that any food at any given moment must be ingested immediately.

“Everything is fine,” Andrew repeats like a broken disc. His hand is still on top of the boy’s curls, unmoving. “I know sometimes you get a feeling like you want to stab someone, but…”

Cedric looks up at him, still munching on his pudding.

Andrew blinks, “Actually, I don’t know how to end that sentence.”

“What Andrew’s trying to say,” Neil jumps in, “is that we are going to take care of Melody. You don’t need to intervene.”

Cedric makes a weird motion that is all shoulders and head. It’s hard to tell what it means. Actually, anything that isn’t fear and circumspection is hard to interpret, with Cedric.

Andrew wonders what his personality could be under all those layers of frozen watchfulness. Is he really shy? Or once he’ll feel safe, they’ll find out that he’s loud and energized? Will he be the kind of child to laugh softly or loudly?

Andrew is impatient to find out.

Neil taps Andrew on the shoulder, leans in and whispers: “What are we going to do about Melody?”

Right. Melody. She would not let this attempted stabbing slide. But Neil is not referring to the little knife incident, is he?

Andrew can read Neil’s mood better than he can read his own.

“We stay calm,” Andrew orders.

Neil grinds his teeth. He tries to keep his voice low even in the harsh Russian tones, “I can’t. Not if she starts using you as a way to enrage me. I swear I was about to get my hands on her.”

Neil sounds both disappointed that he didn’t get to do it, and ashamed that he even wished to in the first place.

Andrew shakes his head. Andrew has been enjoying being fucked by men since before he was your age, Ray.

There was something deeply disturbing about that sentence. It wasn’t just the fact that Mel had said it with the precise intention to upset Neil to the point of pushing him to violence.

“I need to talk to her.”

“You don’t have to,” Neil retorts.

Andrew gives him a blank stare in return. “I can take the savagery of a ten-year-old. She’s trying to get to you because she knows she can’t get to me.”

“Couldn’t she stop trying to get at anybody? She doesn’t want to go back home; we are providing that. Why does she keep pushing like this?”

Andrew shrugs. He doubts Melody’s actions are guided by a rational plan.

“I’ll go talk to her.” Andrew turns to Cedric, who’s at the last spoonful of pudding. He switches back to English, “I’ll leave you with Neil, now. I’ll be back in a bit.”

And while Cedric nods absent-mindedly, Neil’s expression gets progressively more terrified.

“Wait! You’re leaving me alone with him?! What if… he… uhm… I don’t think I can handle it alone.”

Any other time, Andrew would have given in, but right now there’s a burning question in his mind.

Andrew has been enjoying being fucked by men since before he was your age, Ray.

A question he needs to answer right away.

Andrew walks in the classroom and he’s welcomed with rigorous silence.

“It is still school time,” that creepy teacher points out. “The children will be ready for practice in an hour.”

No one is moving a muscle. David is sitting still, he’s not even kicking his legs.

They are all looking down at their books like they are not allowed to rise their heads.

Ray is quiet.

Andrew glares at the man standing next to the blackboard. It’s not a good day to get on Andrew’s wrong side. And it’s certainly not a grand idea to do so in the middle of nowhere.

Lots of places to bury a body.

“I will speak with Melody. Now.” Andrew says.

The two men stare at each other in aggressive silence.

“You have already taken Mr. Hart from his studying duty today. I cannot allow you to distract any more of my students.”

This man’s stony expression leaves Andrew with a new founded desire for stabbing. What did he say to the boy? Sometimes you feel like stabbing someone but…

Oh, yeah. He hadn’t known how to finish that sentence.

Andrew looks back at the class and finds the kids still contemplating their books like nothing else of interest is happening. Melody is the only one sitting slightly crooked, looking up at the two of them.

Andrew is going to bet on her lovely personality.

“Mel, follow me,” he orders.

“Ms. Malcolm, you stay right where you are.”

The girl rises an eyebrow. She looks at the teacher, then back at her coach.

Andrew feels like smiling again when Mel gets up from her seat. Apparently, she hates the teacher more than she hates Andrew.

Mr. Suji shakes his head, sadly. “No one needs a pawn that doesn’t obey orders, Malcolm.”

That threat is not even pretending to be veiled.

Andrew gestures for the girl to go through the door first, then he slams it with all the frustration of the last hour.

He takes off for the outside court without looking at the kid. If he had stopped to make sure she was fallowing him, she would have turned it into another power struggle.

So he keeps going, keeping his ears open for the soft footsteps behind him.

Outside of the stadium, the sun is blazing like it wants to melt concrete. Andrew proceeds to the gazebo, already feeling like his light skin is boiling.

With her hands in her pockets and her butchered hair a mess, Melody stops right before the porch. She glares for a hot minute before deciding that this little rebellion is not worth the cost, so she steps inside the shadow of the gazebo.

“What?”

Andrew sits on the hard bench and stares at the girl until she relents. Her desperate sigh is louder than any sign of life in that deserted landscape.

She sits in front of Andrew, the table between them.

“WHAT.”

“Your feud with Cedric ends now.”

“What feud? He tried to stab me. I didn’t do shit to him.”

“And you won’t in the future as well.”

Melody smiles showing all her baby teeth. “You shouldn’t be so obvious about who’s your favorite. Especially to someone that doesn’t like you very much.”

Andrew crosses his hands on top of the table. “If you have a problem with me, you’ll address it with me only.”

“But that wouldn’t be fun.”

“You mean it wouldn’t be easy? You have found the buttons to push to rile up Neil, congratulations. But that’s not exactly an accomplishment. Journalists have discovered that same trick many years ago and have had fun in finding new ways to indirectly insult me to get a reaction out of Neil in front of the camera. Anyone who has ever seen one of his interviews would know this.”

“I can get to you just as easily.”

“Can you? Then be my guest. But before you put to use all the malevolence crammed in your tiny body, would you mind clearing one doubt? What you said in the cafeteria earlier… I’m dying to know how you could be privy to such information.”

Mel tilts her head. She’s still smiling, but there’s caution in her gaze, like she fears she might be stepping into a trap. “It’s not exactly a secret, is it? Everyone knows about your Marine. It was on the news.”

“Yes, people who loves to call themselves journalists have had a lot of fun covering the story of Drake Spear. They did not spare any details about the trial. Every single Exy magazine had an article about my unfortunate origin story, and every article mentioned how I had been fostered by the Spears at age twelve. A girl as attentive as you could not have missed that part. But you said, before I was Ray’s age. That's pretty specific. And we both know Ray is only eight.”

Mel looks to the side. She’s gathering her thoughts, elaborating a quick lie.

“Let’s skip the part where you try to bullshit me. I know you’re not supposed to know what you know, because, to my knowledge, I have only told this story to two living organisms on this Earth. And you are not one of them.”

The girl crosses her arms and leans backwards, like this conversation is not concerning her to the least. “I just took an educated guess. I bet you were a very fuckable child.”

“I think we should start keeping score with all the times you try to hurt me, and in return I feel absolutely nothing. It’d be fun to count how many times you fail.”

A sparkle of madness goes through her eyes. She’s furious. All the clever caution that has kept her mouth shut until now is flying out the window. This is the time to press her.

“I’ll make you a deal. A secret for a secret. You tell me how you know, and I’ll answer truthfully to one question.”

She cannot resist the bait; Andrew can see it. She’s hungry for a fight. There’s so much anger pressed in that small body that she’ll implode if she doesn’t find a way to express it.

“You’ll answer any question?”

Andrew has no idea what she’ll ask, but he’s pretty sure he would be willing to pay the price.

“If you give me the answer I’m looking for. So, how do you know?”

The girl shrugs, but it’s far from a relaxed gesture. She’s getting tense. Her eyes are scattering the track field like she expects someone to magically appear out of hot thin air.

“About ten years ago, some rat snitched with the FBI about the Wesninski’s circle. You should know something about that already. Since then, every survivor that had worked under the Butcher’s orders were expected to serve directly under the Moriyamas. It was me and my mother’s case. We were transferred into Moriyama’s territory shortly after I was born.”

Melody stops and looks at Andrew like he’s supposed to understand already. He doesn’t.

“Fuck. You have been around these people for years, but you don’t even know what they do, do you? Moriyamas are involved in all sort of criminal affairs, and they are very careful to keep track of everyone and everything that goes through their net. There are tons of files, a proper archive, that’s filled with information about anyone who could be of interest. When I was notified that I was going to be sent here, I sneaked into the archive to have a look. Your file was juicy. And Nathaniel’s…”

Andrew can feel his heartbeat going faster. The girl’s smile is morphing into a devilish thing.

“Do you have any idea what they did to him? What they made him do? To train him, or just to have some fun.”

Andrew is very careful not to let anything show on his face. That’s what she’s looking for, an opening in his armor. He cannot give this to her.

“So, the Moriyamas have a file on me?” That isn’t too surprising. What is still a mystery is how would Mel, or the Moriyamas themselves, know that Andrew had been already raped before the age of eight. “And where are these files stored, exactly?”

“I’m not longing for death that badly. At least not the kind of painful death I’d get for spreading this kind of information.”

“Alright. What exactly did the file say, then?”

Melody’s brows furrow, “What? You don’t believe me? You want me to give you details?”

“No. Give me names. If you’re telling the truth, give me the names of the people who assaulted me.”

He had been fostered in twelve different families during his childhood. One guess could be right out of pure luck, but not three in a row.

“Jesse.” Melody says without skipping a beat. Andrew’s ears start ringing. “Samuel.” All is still, and yet the world tilts slightly to the side. “Steven.”

Andrew has told Neil bits of his childhood years, but he has never given those names. Not to Neil. Not to Bee. Not to anyone.

Bee has only been privy to what had happened, not who.

Andrew can’t afford to dwell too much on this, not in front of Melody. “Your question, then.”

The girl doesn’t even need to think about it, “Are you the one who takes it? Or is Neil the lucky guy?”

Andrew blinks for several seconds. He’s amazed at how stupid of a move this was on her part, but maybe he shouldn’t be. She acts edgy and dangerous but she’s not an evil mastermind. She’s just a ten-year-old. A ten-year-old that is as lost as all the other kids. The only thing that gives her any security is knowing that she can hurt people.

Andrew’s careful smile is not genuine. He forces himself to smile, which is something he had thought he would never do. But it feels like the right thing to do right now.

“It depends,” he explains calmly. “On how we both feel. It’s all about communication. And this is true for any couple, but especially ours.”

Mel’s disappointment in his calm demeanor leaves space for some petty retort, “Especially yours? Cause you still think about your dear Marine when Neil fucks you?”

Andrew shakes his head, “That almost never happens. Sex and rape are two wildly different things. Just like... eating dinner with someone you care for is very different from being tied to a chair and having some guy stuffing food down your throat until you choke. The two events are similar only in their setting, but once you get past that, and you learn to trust the person you have chosen to live life with, there is nothing holding you back.”

Well, the occasional trigger can still happen, Andrew can’t control that. But he cannot be bothered to worry about that when Neil is right there.

“I told you; you can’t get to me with this stuff. I’m sorry you wasted your question.”

Melody doesn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting defeat. She gets up and gives him a mockery of a curtsy. “You have no idea what I can do to you. Just wait and see, A.J.”

Once she leaves the gazebo, she doesn’t make her way for the stadium, but continues towards the line of trees in the distance.

Andrew slouches on the bench. He has a lot to think about, and Cedric is still upstairs, still holding together just by sheer willpower.

He finds himself fidgeting with his phone. His fingers have already typed his first emergency contact. He doesn’t want to be so dependent, but, at the same time, he can’t help but press the green button.

Bee’s voice mail asks to leave a massage, she will call back as soon as possible. She must be with a patient, that’s the only reason she would turn off her phone.

Andrew waits for the beeping sound. “Hey.” That’s a stupid way to start this conversation. The awkward pause that follows is possibly worse. “Cedric had… some sort of crisis. There was violence, followed by hysteric crying, followed by self-harming behavior. Uhm, it took a while to calm him down. We gave him some pudding and he talked. He said he was sorry. I think it’s kind of a good thing, right? I mean, violent and self-harming is still better than catatonic, right? And… there’s also something else.”

Andrew takes a deep breath. “Do you remember when we did trauma narration? After I told you about my time in foster care you said you had a hard time believing it could have happened by chance.”

When they’d had that conversation, Andrew had believed for a moment that Bee was suggesting he was lying. He had never seen red so fast. Thankfully, Bee had been quick to explain herself.

“You said that any child can be unlucky enough to find himself in the net of a pedophile. But four pedophiles in a row doesn’t happen by chance.”

The only time she had proposed her theory, Andrew had shut her down immediately. She had talked about child trafficking and pedophile rings. She had been sure Andrew had been intentionally moved from one wolf’s den to another by someone being paid to do so.

It had been during the early stages of therapy. At that time, he had still been holding on to the explanation that there had been something about him specifically that had attracted that sort of violence. Now, he is ready to retract.

“I think you were right.” That’s all he can utter. He disconnects the call.

How could the Moriyamas have those names? How did Riko get a hold of Drake so easily back in collage?

You have been around these people for years, but you don’t even know what they do, do you?

Andrew had never wanted to know.

That isn’t true anymore.

He opens his contacts on his phone and taps on the first name in alphabetical order. Aaron picks up within the first two rings. “Yes?”

“I need a favor.”

A brief pause and then, “What favor?”

Really? No searing remarks? Aaron was really convinced about this learning to get along like real brothers thing.

“I need you to go to Oakland in California. There’s a whole bunch of documents about my time in foster care that I never collected. I need those documents.”

“Uuh, I don’t think they’ll give ‘em to me. You have to go in person.”

“I’ll just give you my ID.”

“Ok, let me get this straight. The favor you need is not for me to go to Oakland, but for me to commit a crime by impersonating you to get a hold of confidential information?”

“I don’t know why you’re so sensitive about committing crimes. You were charged with second degree murder.”

“I was absolved for self-defense, if you remember that bit. Can’t you just fly to Oakland?”

Not really. Andrew has no intention of ever going back to Oakland, and also his phobia of heights had only intensified with time. The cost of breaking through apathy had been his complete inability to take airplanes, if not sedated. And Andrew refused to get sedated. So.

For years, Andrew and Neil had needed to structure their work schedule keeping in mind that any outdoor games would have involved days of car rides.

“I don’t have the time.”

“And I do?!” Before Aaron can lose it, he takes a moment. Several seconds go by. “What do you need these documents for?”

Well, Andrew can’t just open his mouth and say that he suspects he had been trafficked in a pedophile ring through the foster care system. That was heavy information. And also, Aaron didn’t know about the others. He had only ever known about Drake, just like the rest of them.

Andrew had never intended for him to know more.

“I don’t want to tell you. But I need your help. I can’t ask anyone else.”

“What, you don’t have another guy that looks exactly like you on hand?” It’s physically impossible for Aaron to not be a dick, even when he’s trying very hard not to. “Ok, just… wait. You don’t want to tell me. Why?”

Andrew grinds his teeth. He feels seven again, incapable of pronouncing a single word to anyone. “I don’t know.” That’s the best he can do. He’s feeling his anxiety spiking but he’s still talking. He’d have to give himself a sweet or something for that.

“You don’t know?” Aaron seems surprised. “Or you don’t know how to say it?”

“Both.”

Aaron sighs. “Is it something that would make me angry?”

“Yes.”

“At you?”

Andrew ponders this for a long moment. “I don’t think so.”

“Will you tell me what’s going on if I do it?”

“No.”

Aaron laughs, “You’re driving a hard bargain here. C’mon Andrew, give me something to work with.”

Andrew is tempted to just disconnect the call. “I don’t want to tell you because it will just make you miserable.”

“Sometimes it’s worth being miserable for a little while. Neil knows, right?”

“Part of it.”

“And he’s not miserable.”

“Neil is the most fucked up human being I’ve ever met. There’s not much I can say that can make him more miserable.”

“Andrew. I want to know you.” That feels like a punch in the gut.

It’s such a painful moment… because Andrew wants to be known.

He feels out of excuses. “I’ll tell you what I can. And I don’t know how much that is.”

Aaron hums, “I’m ok with that.”

Chapter Text

David is mindlessly zipping and unzipping his bag, thinking back on every point he had cost his team this afternoon. It had been just a practice game, but still.

The moment Ray starts loudly complaining about their embarrassing performance of the day, Coach Andrew walks into the locker-room and flicks a quick look into Cedric’s direction to make sure Ray wasn’t taking his frustration on the poor kid.

Cedric is keeping on the sidelines, focusing hard on his shoelaces. On the opposite bench, Jiro is quickly putting away his stuff, while Theo is removing his contact lenses and putting his glasses back on.

“We are shit. That’s what we are,” Ray continues.

“If you could stop giving us this futile feedback, I’m sure we would all appreciate it.” Jiro stuffs his bag with the last pieces of his uniform and lifts the duffel to his shoulder.

Ray waits for his captain to start for the door before mouthing back with a nasty face what Jiro had just said.

“Ray,” Andrew calls him. “You and Harry built a great defense today. Your cooperation skills have saved your team at least three points.”

David looks at Ray’s face getting twisted, like he just bit into a slice of lemon. Every time the coaches make some kind of nice remark to Ray (which lately has been all the time), Ray acts like ha has no idea what to do or say.

He usually falls into a state of confusion that turns him quiet. It’s really weird.

“Hurry up, boys, or you’ll be late for dinner,” Andrew says, so David tries to wiggle out of his sweaty shirt faster.

Coach Andrew approaches Cedric and asks him something in a voice too low for David to hear.

Cedric nods, Andrew says something else, and the boy nods again.

“Alright, I’ll be waiting upstairs for you, kids. Hurry.” Coach Andrew leaves the locker room, leaving David alone with Theo, Ray and Cedric.

As soon as the door bangs close, Theo fills the space Jiro had occupied, and puts himself one step closer to David.

“Can you accept a friendly suggestion?” Theo asks. Then, in a weird voice he continues: “Because we are friends, right?”

David nods enthusiastically.

“I think you should tell Coach Josten you want to quit. It will be less painful, I believe, than to wait for a proper game and have your father witness your performance.”

David moves his mouth, but no sound comes out. He’s suddenly feeling very wrong, with no words to say and with a shoe on a foot and only a sock on the other.

“Having Mr. Jiro and you on the lineup, our team will surely be scrutinized by journalists, it’s obvious. They will bring cameras and they’ll film everything.” Theo makes an expression full of sorrow. “I don’t want you getting humiliated. I’m sure it will break your heart to have your father be so disappointed in you.”

David now is more confused than ever. “My father is not disappointed in me.”

Theo tilts his head. “How could the best striker in the world not be disappointed in a son that cannot even make a simple pass? I’m sorry, David. I’m just giving you my opinion as a friend, but you have to admit that your game is terrible. That Indian girl looks ridiculous in the goal, and she’s still doing better than you.”

That Indian girl? “Uh, but I think Sadie comes from Thailand?”

Theo’s calm expression twitches. “You’re not listening. You never listen. David, if you come with us on the tournament, we will be the laughingstock of the district. And your father will be too embarrassed to even call you his son.”

“But my dad loves me,” David explains, very slowly, because it looks like Theo is not getting it.

Theo takes a deep breath, ready to start again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sniffing your master’s ass?” Ray is smiling showing all his teeth. “If you don’t stick your nose between Jiro’s butt cheeks for too long, he’ll might get cold.”

“Careful, Guerrero.” Theo’s eyes get super thin behind his glasses. “There are people you can pick on, and there are people that are so far above you, you should be licking the floor they walk on.”

David gapes with his eyes open wide. Ray saying nasty things is the norm, but Theo is always so composed…

The two backliners glare at each other until Cedric breaks the stillness walking between the two of them with his bag hanging from his shoulder.

Theo makes a disgusted sound and hurries out of the door, preceding Cedric, who stops before crossing the exit.

Ray shakes his head. “His kind is the worst,” he mutters.

“His kind?” David asks.

Ray doesn’t reply, but Cedric is nodding in agreement.

“He’s right, by the way.” Ray puts on his clean shirt. “You’re going to make us lose. You're a shitty striker.”

David shrinks on himself. He doesn’t have any words of defense. He knows he’s messing up a lot.

After dinner, David follows the others into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then into their bedroom, where they all start to get into their pajamas and into arguments with one another, as usual.

David has been feeling restless all throughout dinner, Theo had sat right in front of him and had given him these looks.  

And that same restlessness is what leads the boy to leave the noisy bedroom and make his way back to the cafeteria. Both the coaches are still sitting at their table.

Uncle Neil is writing on the notebook he uses to annotate the team’s strategies. His face is twisted into that expression people make when they see an injured animal.

“I think you should keep Ray for the second half, and pair Judie with David. The Dinos defense is shit anyway,” Uncle Andrew says, while stacking broccolis in his plate into a tower.

“Don’t try to change the subject. You worry about eating those broccolis. I swear we are not leaving until you eat at least one. You need vitamins to live. Not just sugar.”

Andrew slouches back on his chair, “I can be here all night.”

“Uncle Neil?” David comes forward. “Uh, I mean, Coach Josten?”

Uncle Neil closes his notebook with a sigh. “Yes?”

“I need to talk with my dad.”

“Oh.” Uncle Neil looks surprised, and then he looks sad. “Yeah, uhm…” He looks down at his phone. “He’s probably done playing against the Jaguars by now. We could call him. Uhm, do you… er… miss him?”

“No,” David says, but he realizes quickly that it sounds horrible. “I mean, I’m used to being away from my mom and dad. I just have to ask him a question.”

“You are used to it?” Andrew asks. “Where do you usually stay?”

David shrugs. “Mommy’s parents, or Grandpa David, or this one lady called Lucy. Oh, I was at a boarding school for half a year when I was seven. Then there are babysitters, scouts’ clubs… I don’t know, I’m always somewhere else. But dad said this time I might stay in the same place for a long time.”

The two coaches look at each other and they look sad. David hopes they are not sad at having David around for a long time.

“It must have been hard, always moving to a different place,” Andrew says.

David shrugs. He doesn’t know if it has been hard, because he doesn’t know if it’s hard to always stay put.

“Ok, let’s go call your dad, then.” Neil gets up. “Don’t. You. Try it.” He shots Andrew an angry look when he gets up too.

Uncle Andrew grabs the plate full of broccolis, and David is sure he’s going to eat one, like he should.

Instead, Andrew flips the plate upside down over the floor, and all the vegetables go tumbling down.

“Oops. Can’t eat them now.”

Neil glares, but he doesn’t say anything.

The two cooks come into the cafeteria right in that moment. One of them immediately notices the disaster on the floor.

“These kids…” Andrew sighs, “They are feral animals. I swear I don’t know what their parents taught them. No manners and no respect. Absolutely dreadful.”

The cook shakes her head with a tired expression and then Uncle Neil is pushing David and Andrew out of the cafeteria.

“You are a fucking toddler,” Neil whispers.

David is keeping a bit behind because he doesn’t know if Uncle Neil is really angry. But then he hears Andrew chuckling, and he knows they are not angry for real.

“This is why we never go out to eat,” Uncle Neil continues, but David can see he’s about to laugh too.

“We never go out to eat because we hate people,” Andrew replies.

They get to the coaches’ rooms, and David immediately stops listening to their conversation the moment the door is opened.

There are cats.

David squeaks and runs.

“Hey, be gentle!” Uncle Neil says. “Don’t pick him up so suddenly! He could scratch you!”

The big fluffy cat between David’s arms wiggles, his pointy ears are tickling his throat.

“I don’t think he wants you to do that.” Uncle Andrew comes closer and crouches next to the bed, where David trapped the cat.

David pouts. He’s never had pets and he loves, loves, looooves animals (except snails. Snails are horrible). He just wants to hold the cat for a minute, he’s not going to hurt him. David turns around a little bit, so he doesn’t have to see Andrew’s eyes set on him.

“David.”

The cat wiggles some more and David holds him tighter.

“I think you are scaring him a lot, right now. And I think next time he sees you, he’s going to run and hide before you can catch him. But if you listen to what he’s telling you and you put him down now, maybe he’ll learn to trust you, after you show him that you will keep on listening.”

David starts bouncing lightly on his heels. The cat makes a low growl and David has to admit that he knows the cat isn’t happy right now.

“Wouldn’t it be better to have a friend you can cuddle with, than to have someone you can take cuddles from, but who is scared of you and doesn’t like you at all?”

David hums. He doesn’t want the cat not to like him. He’d rather have a friend, even if it takes longer to get to the cuddles.

The cat flees under the bed the moment he touches the ground.

David lets out a little whine. He kneels and lowers his head to look under the bed, but he can only make out a pair of glinting eyes.

“I’m sorry! I want to be friends.”

“He’ll need some time now,” Uncle Andrew explains, sitting down on the bed.

David sits next to him, still sulking unhappily. The other cat is watching him from the kitchen counter, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to get closer any time soon.

Uncle Neil has his phone on his ear, waiting in silence for David’s dad to pick up.  

“Maybe the game went on for longer than expected?” Neil says when no one responds.

Andrew goes to take a laptop from the counter and comes back to the bed. It takes ten minutes for the computer to turn on, and twenty seconds for Andrew to find the official site of this year Exy’s Spring Championship.

“Yeah, the game is still going.”

David watches as a blurry video starts loading.

“Hold on.” Uncle Neil climbs on the bed too. “You can see games on that thing?”

“It’s a laptop.”

“It’s a brick in the shape of a laptop. I didn’t think it could do that. Why didn’t you tell me? I missed the last three games of the Foxes!”

“Oh, not the last three games of the Foxes,” Andew says.

The two of them get back on bickering with each other, but David is no longer paying attention. His dad is on the screen, flying on the court like he has wings.

A scuffle breaks down in the Far Away side of the court. It’s nothing major, but the player who gets yellow carded is being handed his second card of the game.

“Penalty shot!” David jumps on his feet on top of the bed. “My dad never misses a penalty shot!”

Neil glues his eyes on the screen. “The shot is Kevin’s? Oh, they are fucked.”

David’s dad takes his spot with his racquet firmly in his left hand. The crowd is chanting, “Queen! Queen! Queen!”

David feels so giddy every time it happens. He can’t stop jumping and smiling. Uncle Neil is not jumping, but he’s just as excited.

“On the upper left corner!” David yells as if his dad can hear him. “Don’t shoot on the right corner!”

Andrew crosses his arm. “He’s going to shoot in the right corner.”

“His Hallister Racquet is more versatile! He won’t shoot in the right corner.” David jumps.

“Hallister?” Neil puts his face closer to the screen to look at the details hidden in the pixels. “Oh, my God! He switched racquet? I cannot believe he gave me so much shit for dropping the Exites sponsorship and then he switches too?”

The chanting of the crowd erupts into chaos when David’s dad swings his racquet.

The Jaguar’s goalkeeper moves faster then a real jaguar, but she still misses. The ball flies to the top left corner, lighting the goal red.

“YEEEEEEEEEAH!” David jumps higher and higher. “He won! He won! He went like… Weeehoooooo!” David swings his imaginary racquet with such power that he loses his balance and trips on his own feet.

Uncle Andrew grabs the back of his shirt before David can smash his head on the floor.

The moment David is back in an upright position, he starts jumping again. “Uncle Neil! Uncle Neil! Did you see that? I bet you would have done it like… woooooaaaaaaaaaammm! And then you would have been like this way, and then, that way!”

Uncle Neil is grinning even though David is not using very correct words.

“The next time you and my dad play against each other I want to be in first row! I’ll be wearing my number ten shirt!”

Uncle Neil stops smiling, and it’s so sudden that David gets spooked into stillness.

“David…” Neil says, “I’m not… I’m not going to play again. Remember?” He points at his funny leg.

David blinks at it, he knows Neil has been injured but… “Wait, but you’ll heal and get better, and then you’ll go back to play. Right?”

Neil shakes his head, slowly. “I won’t heal more than this, kid. And as it is, I can barely walk.”

David opens his mouth. “But… but you’re the best striker…” David turns to Andrew for help, but the goalkeeper doesn’t have any comfort to offer.

“I had a good career,” Uncle Neil says, but so low it’s almost like he’s trying to reassure himself instead of David.

David is seriously about to cry. Neil Josten can’t stop playing Exy. It’s like saying Santa Claus won’t deliver presents at Christmas anymore. That’s his whole thing!

“But… but…” David turns from one uncle to the other. “But Andrew can’t play alone. You always play together.”

They both reply at the same time, but what’s weird is that they reply different things.

Uncle Neil says: “Andrew will do great anyway.”

And Uncle Andrew says: “I’m not playing anymore either.”

Then they look confusedly at each other.

“What?” Neil is the first one to ask.

“Are you suffering from memory loss?” Andrew seems genuinely concerned.

Neil stands. It’s so sudden that the cat under the bed scatters away with an acute meow.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Andrew closes his laptop, places it on the bed and stands as well. “I’m talking about me not playing Exy anymore. As we have previously discussed.”

“WHEN have we previously discussed it?”

Uncle Andrew looks to the side, like he’s gathering his thoughts. “Four and a half weeks ago, it was a Tuesday, around 3 p.m.”

Uncle Neil is dumbstruck for a moment. He tries to look to the side as well, but it’s clear, after a minute, that he can’t remember what happened four Tuesdays ago at 3 p.m.

“What are you even talking about? I would remember if you had come to me with something like that.”

“Conversation went as follows,” Andrew says. “You: Rehabilitation is the worst. I can’t do this. Me: The worst? Are you sure? They burnt your face with a lighter. I think that was worst. You: How is that supposed to help? Me: I’m trying to help you put things into perspective. Rehabilitation is just hard, not the worst. You: You’re right. What’s worst is that I will never, ever play Exy again. I will never win another Olympic medal; I will never feel that rush of adrenaline when a goalkeeper misses my shots by half an inch. Me: You also can’t drive. Do we want to make a list of your woes? You: I think I just want to lie here and not think for a while. I don’t want to think about everyone else getting ahead of me while I stay behind. I can’t think of you playing on a court without me. Me: I don’t want to play without you. You: I know it’s hard, Drew.”

Uncle Neil opens his eyes wide. “THAT was you telling me you were dropping a career worth half a million dollars? Andrew! You can’t quit! Next season you’ll make enough saves to qualify as the best goalkeeper in the world!”

Andrew groans.

David is feeling very out of place, like he’s not supposed to be here for this.

“I don’t care to become the best goalkeeper! I told you that too! Do you want me to tell you when I said that as well? It was the summer of three years ago, when you…”

“I hate when you use that trick of yours to win fights.”

“Because I’m right?”

“Because you’re annoying.”

A phone rings, shaking on the sheets. The two coaches glare at it.

“It’s Kevin,” Neil murmurs as he takes the phone. “Hey, Kev. No, everything is going GREAT. Just GREAT. Your kid wants to talk with you.”

Uncle Neil pushes the phone into David’s hands and then immediately turns back on Andrew.

“What did you think me being here meant, Neil? Did you think I was going to leave when the next season started and c’est la vie? To do what? Agitate a stick around to catch a ball?”

“Don’t try that shit where you pretend you don’t care about Exy!”

“David? Are you there?” His dad’s voice coming from the phone is enough to wake up David from his trance.

“Uhm, hi, dad.” David quietly slides off the bed and looks for a corner to have this conversation.

“I care in the measure of it being a sport and a job. That’s it! I’m good at it, that doesn’t mean I have to be obsessed with it! I accepted to borrow your obsession until I had one of my own, and now I do. Do you think I would come all this way in life just to end up alone again?”

“So, you’re admitting you’re quitting because I’ve got injured?”

“Do I have to admit that? Like it’s a shameful secret I was keeping hidden? It’s not my fault you can’t make two plus two like the rest of the world.”

“David? What’s going on?” The distant voice on the phone sounds upset.

David hurries to the only door he sees. He finds himself in a tiny bathroom and closes the door.

“Uhm, I’m fine, dad. But Uncle Neil and Uncle Andrew are fighting.”

“Fighting? Like… fighting how? Are there weapons involved?”

“What? No, they are yelling. Uncle Neil found out that Uncle Andrew wants to quit Exy.”

“Ah.” David’s dad is quiet. “Well, it’s probably the best thing for Andrew.”

David doesn’t know what that means. In the boy’s mind, quitting Exy cannot be the best thing for anyone who is good at it.

But what if you’re not good?

“Dad, if I do really bad, and then my team loses because of me, will you be disappointed?”

There’s a silence in which David can hear men chatting in the background, and then, “No. Nothing you do will ever make me feel disappointed in you.”

“Yeah.” David breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s what I thought. But one of the kids said that you’d be disappointed.”

“Who told you that?! Was it Jiro? You don’t have to listen to him.”

“It wasn’t Jiro!” David is already annoyed. “It was another kid. You don’t know him. Theo is really good, and he didn’t say that to be mean, he was just giving me a suggestion.”

“What suggestion?”

“That I should quit before you see me play and you get disappointed.”

“That’s not something you can do,” David’s dad replies. “You can’t quit, no matter what.”

“But it’s true that I’m not very good, and…”

“Then you have to get good. At all costs. David, you have to be great. I told you there could be people coming to see how you play. They have to see that you are essential. You hear me?”

And now David is more than just annoyed. “First you say that you won’t be disappointed if I fail, but then you say that I have to get good and I can’t quit no matter what? Grandma says that good players play to have fun and to make friends! Not to win!”

“No, David! You have to WIN! Please, kid. I can’t explain it better than this, but you have to believe me. It’s crucial that you win! Promise me you’ll do anything you can to win.”

David is clutching at the phone with all his strength.   

Theo was right.

“Kid? Are you still there?”

David taps on the red circle and then turns off the phone so that his dad cannot call back. He leaves the bathroom and finds Neil sitting on the bed, massaging his temples, while Andrew is standing with his arms crossed.

“So, you just… receded the contract?” Uncle Neil asks. “And you thought that tiny sentence thrown there like nothing was enough to discuss this major life change and the fact that we have no more money?”

“I TOLD YOU we were out of money! Remember when we bought the door frames for the showers? I told you it would be too expensive to pay for installation, didn’t I? Because I used the money in my bank account to pay the fee for breaking contract.”

“And that last part you just said was left implicit before, because…?”

“Because it was obvious. Also, we are not really out of money. We have all the money you buried around the US because you are Paranoia the Man.”

“Well, I am right in being paranoid, apparently.”

David timidly approaches his coach with his phone extended. When the two men notice him, they fall into an embarrassed silence, like they both forgot the boy was there.

“Everything alright with your dad?” Uncle Neil asks accepting his phone back.

“I don’t know,” David answers. “I don’t care. He’s annoying.” It’s probably time to leave, so the Coaches can fight in peace, and David can wallow in sorrow.

He’s feeling awful. He loves Exy but he sucks at it, and his father, whom he sees maybe five times a year, will be disappointed when David messes up in a real game.

At least he made some friends here.

“Goodnight, Coaches,” David says. “Goodnight, cats.”

The Coaches say goodnight back. The cats remain hidden.

There is no way David can sleep. There is so much stuff in his mind, and none of it is good.

David turns around. The room is dark. Ray and Judie are snoring. Cedric is mumbling.

There’s a big moon outside, but the clouds are covering its light every time it tries to shine through the windows.

David crawls at the edge of his bed and looks down. He likes to be so up high, it’s exciting, like he really is a tiny bird that’s learning to fly.

To his left, he hears something moving. David squints to make out the wiggling shape in the dark. Jiro’s bed squeaks, and no other sound comes until the door cracks a little.

David doesn’t think twice about it. He climbs down the ladder and hurries to the hallway.

He’s had an awful day, but Jiro can always say something nice to cheer him up.

“Jiro?” David whispers, but maybe he whispers it too quietly, because nobody answers.

The secured door at the end of the hallway emits its tiny pop. David rushes forward but when he gets to the door, he founds it already closed.

From this side, he could easily open it with a push, but to come back in he needs to put the code in the pad. Coach Neil had given the code to all the kids, and told them to memorize it, but David cannot even remember the first number.  

Jiro can probably remember it, that’s why he leaves that area of the stadium without worrying too much.

David can just catch up to him and they can get back inside together.

The boy pushes the door and hurries ahead. If he loses Jiro after the stairs, he’ll never find him again; that place is gigantic.

After passing the kitchen and the cafeteria, David sees a shadow moving under one of the emergency lights. It’s not making a sound.

On his bare feet, David trots happily behind Jiro. This game is getting super exciting.

The captain makes his way to the stairs and stops.

David has to order his legs to halt before getting too close and crushing into Jiro.

The boy in the lead looks up at the stairs that take to the third floor. But then he resolutely takes the other flight and proceeds for the ground floor.

David giggles. Jiro hasn’t noticed him yet.

Where are they going? To the court? Maybe Jiro gets some secret practice at night. David’s dad used to do that.

But after the stairs, Jiro doesn’t turn for the court. He keeps going ahead, over the infirmary and over the coach’s office. He turns into the schoolroom’s hallway.

David stops before the corner and peeks. Now his eyes have gotten used to the dark, and he can make out almost everything. Jiro is also barefoot; he’s wearing his black pajama, the one with no pictures on it. David thinks it’s a sad pajama. He has one with fishes swimming all over his chest that his grandma bought him.

Jiro is heading straight for the schoolroom. But, before reaching the door, he turns a little and stops in front of the teacher’s apartment.  

Jiro knocks once and the door immediately opens. David can’t see Mr. Suji from behind the corner, but the boy is sure that scary voice commanding Jiro to come in it’s his.

As soon as Jiro disappears inside and the door closes, David gather his courage and steps forward on silent feet.

It’s not like he can turn back anyway; he doesn’t know the code to get back to bed.

At first, he places his ear on the lock and tries to make out words, but when he realizes the only thing he can hear are murmurs, he ponders whether he should knock and just ask them what are they doing.

Will Jiro be mad if he finds out David has been following him? David cannot have his most important friend be mad at him right now. He should have thought about this sooner.

David wants to slap himself. Why does he never think about anything?

The murmurs get louder. David holds his breath, but his heart is still making too much noise for…

The door opens.

David falls into Jiro, who looks down at him horrified.

The captain grabs David by the shoulders and pushes him to the side, away from the door and the light.

“What is it?” That scary voice asks in Japanese.

Jiro’s head turns back so fast it feels like it should snap from its neck. David is crouching next to the wall, where Jiro pushed him.

Mr. Suji appears on the threshold, lighted by the lamps from the inside. That thin old man looks down at David.

“Erm… hello, Mr. Suji.”

Mr. Suji pulls him by the arm like he wants to break it, and he keeps pulling until the boy is inside his apartment.

Fear is shaking through his legs and fingers; he’s in trouble. Jiro is at his back. His initial horrified look is gone, now he’s showing nothing.

“Jiro…” David whines, but Mr. Suji squeezes David’s arm demanding his attention.

“OW! You’re hurting me! Stop!”

“Sit.” The teacher throws the boy on the closest chair. There’s not much else in that room: a desk with a big computer on it, a bunch of other chairs scattered around and a bed. There are shelves and a closet, but they are both empty.

“What did you hear?” Mr. Suji grabs David by the chin. He’s so close, David could count the hair in his nose. “Why are you following Jiro? Who told you to do that? Was it your father?”

“No.” That answer doesn’t satisfy the teacher, who shakes David’s head like a maraca.

“Mr. Suji.” Jiro intervenes with a low murmur. “I don’t think this is necessary. He’s just a kid. He was only playing a game, I’m sure. And we were talking at a low volume, I’m sure David has not heard anything. Right, David?”

David nods.

The teacher lets go of David and straightens. “Jiro, listen to me.” He says in Japanese. “You know the stakes of what we are doing. We cannot run this risk. Now, you will go back to bed, and I will handle this.”

Jiro widens his eyes into a panicked expression. “Handle?” He asks, still in Japanese. “How?”

The teacher shakes his head, sadly. “I promise his death with be quick and painless. He won’t even realize what’s going on.”

David immediately realizes what’s going on, but he’s too petrified to jump off the chair and run.

And then, as Jiro’s panic spirals into horror, Mr. Suji turns back to David and smiles. In English, he says, “This was all a misunderstanding, I’m sure. I’m sorry for being so rough, David. Let’s go for a walk, you and I. I have some chocolate to share.”

Mr. Suji’s smile is even more terrifying than him candidly admitting he wants to kill David. How could he say that and then ask David to go for a walk? He cannot think David that stupid, right?

Then it hits him: they don’t know he understands Japanese. They don’t know he knows he’s in danger.

The boy tries his best to swallow his terror and smile back. “Chocolate? I love chocolate.”

Mr. Suji nods. The moment he turns around, David is bolting.

He hears Jiro calling his name, but he doesn’t slow down. He runs through the door, into the hallway. He runs faster then he ever run. No one will catch him. How could they? He can hear the air whistling at his ears for how quickly he’s cutting through it. He goes up the stairs two steps at a time. His heart is drumming, pulsing in his throat and in his legs.

He flies over the kitchen and over the cafeteria.

The secured door.

David crushes into it.

Then he just stands there, panting, frozen like a tiny animal backed into a corner. There are footsteps behind him.

“UNCLE NEIL!” David starts banging on the door. He tries random numbers on the pad. “UNCLE ANDREW! HELP! HEL…”

A hand presses over his mouth.

Chapter Text

David trashes around, clawing at the hand that is keeping his mouth shut. The only sound he can make is an acute, pathetic whine no one could ever hear from the other side of the door.

Panic rises. Panic is the only thing filling his lungs.

Help! Help!

“Stop it. David, it’s me. Stop it.” Jiro’s voice is a murmur. 

Knowing that the one trapping him is Jiro and not the teacher doesn’t bring David any comfort. Jiro is still bigger, taller and stronger. He’s a sinister weight on David’s back.

“David, wait…”

David doesn’t stop fighting and he certainly doesn’t stop trying to scream through his gag. Jiro bears his struggles for a few seconds more, but then his patience runs thin. The captain pushes him against the secured door and manages to block both of his arms while still keeping a hand over his mouth.

“Listen to me. Sush, don’t…”

Footsteps. They both freeze.

There are footsteps coming their way, getting closer. Faster and faster.

David is not the only one to turn a pair of panicked eyes to the other side of the hallway.

It’s so dark, but David can still see the shape of Mr. Suji trudging forward, his breath heavy. David can also see the white in Jiro’s eyes for how open they are.

“Come with me! Run!” Jiro lets go of David’s mouth, of his left and right arm. He lets go of everything, except David’s hand.

The smaller striker finds himself being dragged ahead towards the monster. Jiro has abandoned any attempt at secrecy, his feet are beating the floor like a drum.

“Jiro!” Mr. Suji yells in a whisper when they pass him, but Jiro doesn’t even turn his way. They keep going.

Now David is running, more for the momentum given by fear than for any coherent thought.

When they reach the stairs, Jiro jumps over the first two steps bringing to the third floor, and that’s when David gets back to his senses and pulls his hand free. But the captain doesn’t allow him more than a split second of liberty. Jiro grabs him again, grunting a word in Japanese David has never heard.

“Let go of me!”

“He doesn’t know the code for the third floor!” Jiro concedes as an explanation, but he doesn’t stop to check if David agrees with his plan or not, he keeps going with his prisoner in tow.

The children are not allowed on the third floor, David knows it, but he can’t say that he cares much right now. There’s a door at the end of the stairs, secured with a numerical pad just like the one that takes to the children’s bedroom.

Jiro doesn’t even need to think about the code. He punches in the numbers, slams the door open and throws both David and himself inside.

A light turns on on its own. David sees red moquette between his fingers.

The big metal door makes a scary noise when Jiro shuts it. Then, they are left only with the sound of their breathing.

Jiro leans back on the door. His nape touches the metal. His eyes are shut, and his shoulders are slowly lowering down.

David had fallen to the floor when Jiro pushed him inside, and he hasn’t moved from there yet.

There’s a knock, polite and inconsequential, but it’s enough to push David to his feet and frantically look around for a way out. They are in some sort of lobby, with nothing but a small table pushed to the wall and a flowerpot over it. No other furniture, just two wooden doors at David’s back.

“Jiro.” Mr. Suji calls from outside. His voice sounds faraway, but a shiver still runs down David’s back. “Open this door.”

The man had spoken in Japanese again, and Jiro doesn’t wait a second to reply in the same language: “I don’t think that would be wise, sir.”

“Your judgment is still immature. You fail to understand the gravity of the situation. If you did understand, you wouldn’t take the risk of letting that boy live a second more.”

Jiro wets his lips. His dark eyes pin David down. In a soft whisper, he asks: “You understand Japanese, don’t you?”

David bolts. He picks one of the two doors at random and runs for it.

“NO!”

A dark room opens before his eyes, and that’s when Jiro pulls him back and forcefully closes the door before David can recognize any shape. But in that split second, David had also heard something. Something like scratching and wailing.

The boy takes a step back. “Who’s in there?” Those words tremble as they leave his mouth.

Jiro is blocking the way to the other room. He’s looking down at David with a serious, calm demeanor. And with that same honest face with which he offered David his friendship, he lies: “There is no one there.”

“You’re… lying.”

David surprises himself with how hurt he feels. Jiro is lying. He’s in league with a man who wants to kill him and he’s lying.   

Jiro looks apologetic, but he doesn’t move from the door, and he doesn’t give David any other explanation.

“My patience is running thin, boy,” Mr. Suji yells. “Open this door.”

“David, you have to do what I say now.” Jiro is still trying to act so calm, but David can see the fear behind his firm tone. “You won’t tell Mr. Suji that you understand Japanese, and you will swear, on your mother and father, that you will tell NO ONE what happened tonight. Swear it!”

“No.” David doesn’t even need to think about it.

“What?”

“I WILL TELL!” David screams. He runs at the secured door, as close to Mr. Suji as he can get. “I WILL TELL EVERYONE!!”

“What is wrong with you?! I’m trying to save you!”

“I WILL TELL COACH, AND MY DAD, AND MY MUM, AND…”

“Shut up!” Jiro is at his back, trying to shut his mouth again, but this time David is ready. He dodges, turns and punches Jiro in the guts.

The taller kid stumbles, more in surprise than in pain.

“YOU LIED! YOU’RE NOT MY FRIEND!”

For once, David wishes he were not himself at all, he wishes he were someone who wouldn’t cry, because those tears burn an unbearable amount.

Jiro purses his lips. They both look ridiculous in their pajamas, barefoot on that fancy red moquette, staring at each other so intensely.

“I don’t think that’s important right now. What matters is that we should get you out of here safely. I think I can do that, if only you would listen to me. Mr. Suji is a reasonable person, he is not a bad man.”

“He wants to kill me!”

“Yeah, but…” Jiro frowns, like he himself is trying to work out what he meant by that. “Not because he enjoys killing, or anything like that. He just wants to protect me.”

Another knock at the secured door. “Jiro, do I have to remind you what would happen if word of what we are doing were to escape our small circle?”

“You don’t have to remind me, sir. I would never allow that to happen. David will not say a word, he swore.” And before David could deny, Jiro is ready with his hand on the boy’s mouth.

“I will not entrust our lives to the sense of honor of a small boy. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I understand why you would be skeptical, sir. But this is my final decision. David will not speak of this matter to a soul, and you, sir, will not take any action on David.”

David mutters his dissent at the same time as the teacher does.

With a sigh, Jiro lets go of David. “Well, fortunately for all of us, we are at an impasse. One that only I can solve, since I’m the only one who knows how to open the door. Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Suji, this door will not open until you promise not to hurt David.”

Silence follows. The drenching fear that had kept David standing all this time finally subsides, taking with it the realization that he might not meet his end tonight.

Jiro is fighting for him, even if he lied, even if he’s in league with a bad man. That has to mean something.

Jiro abandons his position by the secured door and paces barefoot around the lobby. He chooses the farthest corner from the dark room, which is still emitting soft, unsettling noises of something moving within.

The captain sits on the moquette, his back against the wall, knees drawn to his chest.

David wobbles on his two feet, realizing there's nowhere else to go. He briefly contemplates trying his luck again with the wooden doors, but an acute and distant wail erupts from the dark room, causing David to scramble over to Jiro.

“It’s not ghosts, isn’t it? I know it’s not ghosts. My grandma told me they aren’t real.”

“Just don’t think about it. Nothing can hurt you here.” Jiro sounds calm. How does he manage to keep so calm? “Just promise me you won’t tell anyone about what you heard tonight.”

David feels stuck. He wishes he could cuddle closer to Jiro, but he knows he shouldn’t, even with ghosts looming next door.

“I didn’t even hear anything,” David replies. “And I can’t promise that I won’t tell, because I don’t know what you were doing, and I think it’s something bad.”

“It’s not! We were… well, I can’t tell you what we were doing, but I promise it’s not something bad, ok?”

David clutches his legs and turns his head to the other side. What does it matter if Jiro promises? He’s a liar. You can’t trust a liar's promise.

“David, this isn’t a children’s game! There are dangerous people involved. Scary, terrifying people. Not like Mr. Suji, I mean really scary.”

David turns again, his face all contorted in pure confusion. Mr. Suji wants to kill David, who is eight years old. Only super bad people kill children. What could be worse or scarier than that?

Jiro understands his quiet question. He takes a deep breath, glances at the secured door like he fears the teacher might pierce through it.

“Look, if I tell you what’s going on, will you promise not to tell anyone? And I mean anyone. Under any circumstance.”

David shuts his eyes and thinks about it, because this is a very important promise and he’s not sure in his head he should make it.

“But… if you are doing a bad thing, I will tell anyway.”

Jiro sighs. “Ok. But I told you I’m not.”

David really hopes it’s true. It would be terrible if his friend was actually a bad person, like dad had said.

“I promise not to tell anyone about tonight. If you’re not doing anything bad.”

“Not a soul?” Jiro asks.

“Not even my mom.”

“Even if someone really scary says you have to tell?”

David makes an annoyed face. “I’m not a coward, and if I promise I promise.”

“Ok.” Jiro lowers his eyes to the soft, red ocean between his feet. It’s like he’s preparing himself for something big. “Mr. Suji is far from being evil, he takes care of me. I go to his room every other night, because he has a computer with internet connection, and that’s how I can communicate with my brother.”

“You have a brother?” David tilts his head.

A shy smile spreads over Jiro’s face. “Yeah. He’s sixteen, his name is Kengo, like my father’s father.”

“But…” David knows he’s not the smartest kid, but this doesn’t make sense, right? “Why do you need to go there at night? You could just ask coach to use his phone.”

“No!” Jiro’s eyes flicker like he’s coming out of a daze. “I can’t. Me and my brother are not supposed to talk to each other. My father doesn’t allow it. That’s why we need Mr. Suji’s help.”

David is still very confused, and it must appear obvious on his face.

“My father…” Jiro starts, but something stops him midsentence. The Hatchlings’ captain suddenly looks much much smaller. “He’s a horrible person, that does horrible things. He treats people like toys, breaks them, and then he throws a tantrum when he wants more. That’s how it was with my mother.”

Jiro blinks chasing away tears. “He hurt her, but we will give him that same pain back tenfold. That’s what he deserves for being horrible and for underestimating her. He thinks she’s just a stupid doll he can tear to pieces whenever he feels like it, but my mom is so much smarter than him. She never wanted me and my brother to be horrible like our father, that’s why she made sure we’d always had someone close that she could trust. I got to stay with her for longer than Kengo did, because I’m just the second son, but mom says that it doesn’t matter, because when Kengo was small, mom had convinced my father to employ Mr. Suji as an instructor for my brother. My father agreed. He’s so fucking stupid. How could he not see Mr. Suji has never been loyal to him? Only to my mom. They were childhood friends, you see. And so Mr. Suji raised my brother to be good, like mom did for me.”

David tries to digest all that information, but he’s not sure he’s getting it. “Uhm…”

“Now that my brother is older, our father has decided to personally take care of his education. I can barely sleep at night thinking of all the terrible stuff he’s going through. Kengo just says he’s happy it’s him and not me.” A faint blush blooms on his cheeks. Shyly, he adds: “He loves me a lot. Mr. Suji says I could even get to meet him in a few years.”

“What?”

“Well…” A new kind of embarrassment takes over him. “I’ve never met him. I’ve heard his voice on the phone four times, but calling like that is too risky, so we generally just chat through the internet.”

That idea is so strange it leaves David feeling dizzy. “But… if you’ve never met him, how do you know it’s him, when he calls and texts?”

Jiro gapes at David like he’s insane. “Because… well, because he is. Because my mom said so, of course.” Jiro shakes his head, like he needs to physically shake off that silly idea. “Mr. Suji also helps me with staying in contact with my mom. If it were for my father, I wouldn’t have had any contact with her from the moment I stopped drinking her milk. But my mom has lots of friends and she’s super smart, so she can always get her way behind his back.”

David can see how proud Jiro is of his mom, but there’s something else to it Jiro is not quite admitting.

“You look worried.” David says, and maybe it’s a stupid thing to say, because Jiro is quiet for a long time.

“Mr. Suji has been having some trouble finding her this past year, but he’s sure she’s just in hiding. My father has grown suspicious. It’s wise that my mom stays hidden, even if it means I can’t talk to her.”

“You haven’t talked with your mom in a year?” Just the thought of something like that happening to David makes him want to cry.

“Yeah, but… it’s alright. I have Kengo and…” Another small smile, a lot more tentative, finds his way to his lips. “I’m glad I could tell you all of this. It’s not nice of me to feel this way, because I know I’m putting you in danger. But I am glad.”

David has a lot to think about. Jiro is right, this is not a children’s game. Even if David is in danger now, so is Jiro, and it's not fair that he faces it alone.

Jiro had good reasons to lie, David decides, and he’s not doing anything bad. David’s hand wonders over the moquette until it finds trembling fingers to hold.

Jiro looks down at their locked hands and the tension in his shoulders disappears.

“So, you see… we are not doing anything wicked. If nothing, we are fighting the real bad guys. That’s why it must all stay a secret. Mr. Suji is right in being so paranoid. If my father had any doubts about me being loyal to him, he’d kill me with no hesitation.”

David tightens his grip on his hand. “Your father is awful, I hate him. No father should be awful like that. It’s a pity I can’t tell my dad, because if he knew, he’d say he could be your father too, so you would have a good dad, like every child should.”

A sudden chuckle erupts from Jiro’s lips. “Oh, David, you are impossibly sweet.”

The captain rises to his feet and the smaller boy follows. Hand in hand, they reach the secured door together.

“Mr. Suji.” Jiro says at a higher volume. “David has promised, and I believe him. Now you have to promise not to hurt him, sir.”

The teacher is still on the other side, sighing loudly. “Boy, you know I can’t do that,” Mr. Suji replies in Japanese. “I can only promise that you won’t have to witness it, and that your friend will not suffer one bit.”

David shirks on himself. Terror is crawling back in his chest, climbing up his legs like a slimy snake.

He could die. He could really die.

No, Jiro promised not to open the door until it was safe. David has to believe that.

“Mr. Suji,” Jiro continues, as calm as ever. “There is a phone in this room. If I cannot have your word that you will leave David alone, then I will call Coach Josten and ask him to come here with Mr Minyard. They will not take your threat to Kevin’s son lightly.”

“This is a very dangerous game you’re playing, Jiro. Your mother will not be happy with you.”

Jiro swallows nervously. “I will accept whatever punishment she deems fit. Now, please give me your word, sir.”

There is another long pause, and then: “I promise not to hurt the boy, as long as he doesn’t snitch.”

It’s David’s turn to swallow. This is not the promise he had hoped to hear, and yet Jiro is going for the pad, typing the code.

“Wait, Jiro…”

The door opens. Mr. Suji is a skeleton of shadows, tall and looming, he is somehow taking up all the space for the stairs.

David’s knees start to shake, and Jiro tightens his grip on his hand to give him courage.

“If this is all, we will be off to our beds, sir. We will see you in the morning, Mr. Suji. Goodnight.”

The teacher’s eyes are drowning in his skull, so dark and tiny David can barely see a glint of life in them.

Jiro tries to take a step forward with David at his side, when Mr. Suji rises a quick hand. David squeaks expecting the end.

Fingers grip David’s shoulder, digging painfully. Mr. Suji lowers himself to get to David’s height. Grandma was wrong, ghosts are real, there’s one right there.

David whimpers when the teacher’s breath hits him.

“Not a word,” Mr. Suji says.

David nods so fast, the tears he had been holding in start falling down.

Chapter Text

Andrew is pressed against Neil, half of his face buried in his side. The night before, Andrew had gone to sleep with his back to Neil, as far away as the small bed could possibly allow him. But his unconscious mind had found his habitual place during sleep.

Neil is very still. The sun is barely showing a glint, so it must be incredibly early. Andrew is relaxed. His hair has grown a bit too long, now it’s falling over his closed eyes, tickling Neil’s bare arm.

Contrary to what the Foxes think, Neil and Andrew don’t fight.

Well, they fight for stupid shit all the time, it’s their favorite thing to do, but they don’t argue like other couples do. The thrill of just being alive and together is usually enough to put into perspective any other problem.

But times have been tough lately. Maybe they are both at the end of their ropes.

Andrew’s muscles tense, his deep breathing stops. He doesn’t twitch or trash around when he wakes. Not anymore.

A pair of hazel eyes blink. At first, Andrew’s sleepy mind doesn’t register anything wrong. He snuggles closer chasing Neil’s warmth.

Then, something clicks. Any hint of sleepiness is gone, and Andrew’s eyes turn into slits. He pushes himself up and drops again at the far edge of the bed.

“Remembered we are angry at each other, did you?” If Neil sees a wasp nest, he needs to poke it.

Andrew doesn’t reply. That’s the most infuriating part of this. When Neil is angry, he cannot stop talking. When Andrew is angry, he shuts down, forcing Neil to hear his own words echoing in his mind, over and over.

Neil doesn’t have the energy to do this today.

“Drew. I hate this. Talk to me.”

It takes about a minute of nothingness before Andrew pushes himself up again. Neil can’t mistake how pissed off he is, but still, Andrew comes closer, stopping right above Neil’s chest.

Then, he stays there, hovering menacingly with that hair still too long hanging half over his eyes.

Neil wants to kiss him and pretend like they never fought. He wants to reach out and push his hair back.

“Are we angry?” Neil’s voice sounds pathetic even to himself. He just wants to have his five minutes of happiness before he starts his day.

Andrew rises one mocking eyebrow. “I can’t speak for your emotional state.”

“Speak for yours, then.”

“I’m tired,” Andrew says. “I knew telling you I’m quitting Exy was going to be tiring, but I didn’t anticipate needing to explain to you why I’d rather stay by your side then travel with a bunch of half strangers I don’t like, doing something I just kind of enjoy when I’m in a good mood.”

“That’s not what…”

“Shut up, let me finish. I know being forced to quit Exy was traumatic to you, and I know you haven’t elaborated shit, as always, so this is just you projecting all the fucking hurt you’re not dealing with onto me, but that doesn’t make it ok.”

“Ok. Alright.” Neil pushes himself into a sitting position, forcing Andrew to back off a little. “I’ll admit that I’m upset about you quitting Exy because I haven’t elaborated -or whatever- the fact that I had to quit Exy. Fine. But the reason why I’m angry is that this was a big fucking decision, and I was completely cut out of…”

Andrew opens his mouth to speak, but Neil is ready: “And don’t you fucking try to say that you told me, because we both know that sentence you threw there once didn’t mean anything.”

Andrew looks to the side, cutting the conversation. It’s his way of collecting himself and ponder.

“I kept delaying telling you because I didn’t want to have this fight.”

Well. At least this is one step further then where they got the other night.

Andrew is still looking away; Neil can’t stand that. He scoots closer and throws both arms around his neck. Neil’s forehead drops, hiding in the space between shoulder and throat.

“I don’t care what you do, Drew. I don’t care if you want to be a goalkeeper, or a coach, or a chef, or if you decide to stop working for the rest of your life. I want you to be happy. Wherever and however you might get that.”

A hand threads through Neil’s hair. Neil wants to say he’s sorry if sometimes he forgets that he’s the one who makes Andrew happy. Sometimes he forgets, sometimes he can’t bring himself to believe it.

But Neil doesn’t have it in himself to say such things.

"And you also don't care that I blew most of our money to pay the fine?" Andrew asks.

Neil snorts with laughter.

Tension dissolves, it’s almost a palpable feeling.

The hand that has been lost in Neil’s hair stops at the back of his neck. Andrew bends, leaving a kiss at the top of Neil’s head.

There it is. His five minutes of happiness. Neil couldn’t stop smiling even if he had a knife stuck in his gut.

Neil’s forehead leaves the warm nest that is Andrew’s shoulder, so that Neil can look up at him.

“I love you.” Neil says.

Andrew rolls his eyes, ridiculing that silly perseverance of Neil to keep using the word love, like it could ever encapsulate everything that there is between them.

“People are going to lose their shit when it becomes public that you quit.” Neil says.

“Oh, it’s already public, there are tons of articles about it. That’s how I thought you were going to find out. But you keep on refusing to use anything more technological than a flip phone.”

“What.”

Andrew rolls his eyes again, this time for a completely different reason. He scatters out of bed and retrieves his laptop from the kitchen counter.

They both sit between entangled sheets, with Andrew slapping Neil’s hands away any time he tries to touch the keyboard.

“See?”

The title is huge: The golden star in goal - Andrew Minyard resigns at age 27

The article goes on about how word got out from Andrew’s coach, and how it had been impossible to contact the athlete for an interview. All that follows is pure speculation, most of it implying Andrew must have resigned because of Neil’s injury, and speculations about what Andrew might do now.

“Holy fuck.” Neil whispers. “Does Kevin know? He must know, right? Why didn’t he tell me? And how come he’s not here right now, screaming at you for quitting?”

Andrew shrugs. It would have been invisible to anyone who hasn’t spent the last nine years or so looking at those eyes, but Neil immediately spots Andrew’s gaze turning dark and distant.

“I expected him to call weeks ago. He must be busy.” Andrew says.

Neil grits his teeth. Kevin has always been distant in his own way, but this is getting ridiculous.

During Neil’s second year in college, Kevin said he got tired of third wheeling for them and decided to share a room with the freshmen. It got worse when college was over, and they were split into different teams. Kevin became more and more elusive.

Neil now knows there was a baby in the middle of it all. He knows Riko’s death had been traumatizing for Kevin, and that Neil and Andrew reminded him of that.

Neil can forgive Kevin for missing Christmases and New Year’s Eves. He can forgive Kevin for not showing up at the hospital when he lost a leg.

But he can’t forgive Kevin for neglecting Andrew, like their friendship means nothing.

Andrew cares about an extremely contained circle of people, but he cares about each and every one of them as fiercely as a mother would for her cub.

Kevin has always been one of those special selected people for Andrew.

And Neil is going to punch him in the fucking mouth.

“He’s an asshole.” Neil says.

Andrew closes his laptop. “That’s not news to anybody.”

Yeah, but Neil wants to remind Andrew anyway, to make sure Andrew knows that the problem isn't him.

Kevin is the asshole for calling only when he needs a fucking favor.

Aaron is the asshole for only showing up on a red moon.

Nicky is the asshole for pretending like him living in Germany doesn’t mean he’s slowing drifting away from his cousins.

Andrew would take a bullet for all of them without a second thought. Having Andrew’s heart is the most precious thing in this word, and those bastards take it for granted every day.

“Let’s wake the kids.” Andrew shuts down any other possible conversation about Kevin’s negligence. He finds the abandoned prosthetics on the floor and helps Neil to put it on.

Admittedly, it’s still too early to wake the kids, but Andrew seems eager to start the day with his usual flock of screaming children gathered around.

They leave clean water and food for the cats and off they go.

Andrew quietly opens the door to the kid’s room. Mel turns at the sound, but when she sees it’s only them, she turns her gaze back into nothingness.

The others are sound asleep.

Andrew is the first one in. He treads lightly to Cedric's lower bunk, where he crouches and knocks gently on the bed frame.

Cedric startles, his blue eyes immediately wide open.

“It’s morning.” Andrew whispers. The boy squints, turns, and slowly emerges from the bed. He doesn’t stop to check the sheets with Andrew, which means he can already feel they’re wet.

The boy fishes a pair of clean pants from his trunk, kept amongst the tower of plastic containers filled with cookies, energy bars and dried meat.

“I’ll take care of this, don’t worry. You go wash up.” Andrew reassures him when Cedric lingers next to the pile of dirty sheets.

Eventually this would get easier, Neil is sure. It’s already easier than how it was at the start.

Andrew leaves shortly after the boy to take a trip to the washing machine, so Neil starts to shake various backs and shoulders. “C’mon. Up, up.”

Judie hides her head under the pillow, while Theo scrambles to get to his trunk and find his glasses.

“Sadie, I know you’re pretending to sleep, c’mon.” Neil draws all the curtains, receiving groans and moans in response.

“Ray?”

“Fuck off.”

Neil tears the blankets off the little shit, who starts to wail and flail his limbs like an upside-down turtle.

“I really need to get my hands on a whistle. This would be much faster.”

“No need, coach.” Harry yawns as she passes Neil to head for the bathroom.

Jiro is climbing down his top bunk, murmuring a soft: “Good morning, sir.”

He’ll never stop calling Neil “sir”, will he?

Who’s left?

Neil looks around and finds David still hiding in a whirl of sheets. This kid… always the last one to drop asleep, always the last one to wake up.

“David.” Neil calls, shaking the boy’s arm.

David yells, turning instantly awake.

It’s a such a strong reaction, Neil jerks back, confused and guilty. “H-hey… it’s fine, it’s me.”

The boy blinks, and only when he can make out his coach’s features, he loses his panicked expression.

“W-what… what was that? Did you have a nightmare, kid?”

David shakes his head. “No, it’s fine!” His eyes dart around the room frantically.

Right then, Andrew comes back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” David jumps up and basically throws himself down the ladder.

“Hold on.” Neil stops him in his track before he can leave the room with the others. “Talk to me, kid. You look terrified. Is something wrong?”

And that’s when David’s gaze flickers in a very clear direction: Jiro is standing right there, acting like he has no interest in the conversation, but still very much glued to the floor.

“Jiro?” Neil can feel his temper rising.

“Yes, sir?” The boy looks perfectly obedient, with his hands behind his back and his head bowed slightly.

“Do you know why David is acting so strange?”

Jiro purses his lips. David loses all color and stands still like a marble statue.

“Actually…” Jiro murmurs looking all around to see who’s left in the room. It’s just the two children and the coaches. Jiro clears his throat. “David, it’s ok. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

David is still frozen, his eyes as big as ever.

“What are you talking about?” Andrew asks.

Somehow, Jiro manages to look smaller, inconsequential. “David had a little accident last night. He was embarrassed. I told him it was ok, but he was inconsolable. So I put the sheets in the washing machine and in the dryer and told him I wouldn’t tell anyone. I’m sorry, sir. I know I shouldn’t have hidden it from you.”

Neil stares down at the little Moriyama until the kid drops his eyes. This story isn’t right.

“Is this true, David? If he’s lying you can tell me. Whatever he did…”

“It’s true,” David says. “It’s like Jiro said.”

By the look of it, a lamb couldn’t be more innocent than Jiro.

“So you know how to start a washing machine?” Neil asks.

Jiro nods without hesitation, since the first rule of lying is to do it confidently.

“Be my guest, then.” Neil gestures to the door, and without missing a beat, they all move to the tiny room cramped between the bathroom and the coaches’ apartment, where four big washing machines stand in a tight row.

One is already on, with Cedric’ sheets going round and around.

Neil picks the first one free and waits for the Moriyama prince. “Show me how you did it.”

The boy still acts like nothing is off about this interrogation, which already sets off all the alarm bells in Neil’s brain.

“I pushed this and this.” Jiro sets up the washing machine and then adds the drying option.

Well, holy shit. The Moriyama prince knows how to use a washing machine. Neil feels like the word is tilting. Was he honestly telling the truth? Neil’s bullshit detector can’t be that rusty, right?

“Hey, David.” Andrew crouches down, speaking casually. “Isn’t that the same pajama you went to sleep with?”

David is not much of a liar. He doesn’t even wait to think about the question that his mouth is already blatantly admitting that, yes, it is, why are you asking?

Neil’s chest turns hot with anger. He doesn’t know what kind of look he’s giving Jiro, but it must be bad enough, for the boy is losing his resolve to stay calm at all costs. “Are you going to tell me some other bullshit story now?”

“Actually…” Jiro’s voice is trembling. “W-we washed the pajama too, and…”

“And what? He stood there naked for two hours?”

“I…”

Neil grabs Jiro by the collar and drags him out in the hallway. “I’ll have a word with you, in private.”

The image of David screaming in fear as he wakes up is playing over and over in Neil’s head. The boy’s eyes open in bare terror... What the fuck happened? How could Neil let it happen? He promised to protect David. He knew Jiro was just pretending to be all obedient and meek, just like Riko pretended in front of the cameras. They all had thought Riko was such a great guy, the greatest of friends.

The memory of Riko’s knife in Neil’s mouth is stinging on his tongue.

Jiro weights nothing and he’s giving no resistance. Dragging him along is like dragging a pup on a leash.

Neil forcefully swings open the door to his and Andrew's room and throws Jiro inside.

He hears David’s high-pitched voice from the hallway, but Andrew is already pushing him out and closing the door.

Jiro has only a wall behind his back, but his eyes are moving quickly: door, window, wardrobe, door. He’s checking every way out.

As if Neil would let him go that easily.

“You are going to tell me what you did to David.”

“I didn’t do anything to him, sir.” Jiro’s voice is robotic, his eyes seem out of focus, even though he’s still frantically looking all around.

“Look at me.” Neil grabs him by the chin, forcing his face forward. “You’re not leaving this room until you tell me what you did.”

Neil cannot stop imagining it. David didn’t have any visible marks on his skin, but there are so many ways to hurt someone without leaving bruises.

“I didn’t…” Jiro stutters. “I promise…”

“Promise?” Neil pushes the kid until he hits the wall. “You think I care about your promise?!”

“Abram!” Andrew is calling him.

The spiral of anger slowly subsides. Neil turns, Andrew is standing right there, his arms crossed, like he’s forcing himself not to intervene.

“He’s lying.” Neil justifies himself in some hurried Russian.

“Of course he’s fucking lying, but he’s also nine years old.”

Neil hears those words, but their meaning takes a moment to hit.

He lets go of his hold on Jiro’s collar and takes a step back. The boy remains plastered to the wall, eyes unfocused and head bowed.

“Nine years old can dispense a lot of pain.” Neil says. A flash of images goes over his mind, but he quickly shuts it down.

“Jiro,” Andrew says, but the squeaky sound of fear the boy makes is not for him.

Sir Fat Cat McCatterson has come out of his hiding and is pointing right at the Moriyama prince.

Jiro is looking at the cat like it’s a swarm of spiders crawling closer. “No…” he mumbles. “Keep it away.”

“It’s just a cat,” Neil replies, perplexed.

The boy whines as Sir gets closer.

Is he trying to earn pity points, now? What’s going on?

Jiro tries to back off, but there’s nowhere to go. A sob escapes him. “Please…”

Andrew moves but not fast enough.

Sir makes a final sprint to Jiro’s ankles. The kid screams, shuts his eyes and kicks full force.

The cat, meowing in fear, scatters away under the bed.

Andrew and Neil are both still now, both puzzled about what just happened.

Jiro is breathing fast. He still has his head bobbed, still with his hands behind his back. Between one breath and the other, he makes little pained noises that don’t seem intentional.

“Jiro,” Andrew reaches out, but the kid shirks away and heads for the door.

“I need…” The boy is walking unsteadily, as if drunk. His hands link at the front and they start scratching each other. “I need to go to the bathroom, sir.” Words come out slurred from his mouth.

Without pausing, Neil and Andrew follow him out. The hallway is empty, the kids must have already gathered in the cafeteria.

Jiro keeps going for the bathroom and, once inside, he picks the first sink and turns the water on.

Andrew and Neil are on the threshold, looking at the boy obsessively rubbing his hands. From the mirror they can see Jiro’s eyes, clouded, pointing at nothing, like they can’t see at all.

The water hitting the sink is the only sound around them. Jiro is rubbing. Rubbing and rubbing, until blood is drawn from under the nails.

Neil is frozen in place. He no longer believes the boy is faking whatever this is, and he’s pretty sure he’s the cause of this crisis.

“Drew. Drew, there’s blood.”

“I can see that,” Andrew hurries to the rack to grab a towel. Then he’s at the sink, next to the boy. “Jiro. Can you look at me? Hey…”

Jiro turns his head, but his eyes are still pointing nowhere. Andrew turns the water off as Jiro keeps on scratching the back of his hands, getting more and more blood under his nails.

“Hey… hey…” Andrew wraps the boy’s hands in the towel and presses until Jiro is forced to stop.

They stay there for a good five seconds, doing nothing. Jiro is blinking slowly, dripping water on the floor.

“Jiro, can you count to ten?”

Jiro cannot count to ten. It doesn’t even seem like he understood what Andrew had said.

“Ok.” Andrew accepts that no problem. “You need to lie down. Come with me.”

Neil is useless. Neil is fucking useless. He’s not cut for this. He can’t protect David or any of the others, and he sure as fuck doesn’t know what to do with Jiro.

Andrew pulls the kid out of the bathroom, always keeping the towel firmly pressed over the boy’s hands. The trip to the children’s bedroom is short.

Andrew chooses one of the lower bunks. “Sit down.”

Jiro sits.

It turns Neil stomach to see the boy obey like that. He doesn’t even look awake, but he’s still doing what he’s told.

“Lie down, now. Here, ok. Close your eyes, you need to rest.”

Andrew waits for the kid to settle, and only after he’s sure Jiro is relaxing, he removes the towel.

Neil leans forward to get a better look. The damage is superficial, and with the towel and water most of the blood has been cleaned. But there are still several red, angry lines all over his tiny hands.

“It’s my fault.”

Andrew doesn’t reply, which means that yes, it is Neil’s fault.

“I don’t even know what happened there, I didn’t mean to…”

“Neil, look.” Andrew is staring at the cuts.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“No, look.” Andrew points at the knuckles between the last two fingers without touching the skin. There’s a white, slim line starting from there and ending at the wrist. And there are others, white shadows of the red marks. “He has done this before. It might be a habit. We need to keep an eye out for this.”

“But… what does it mean? Is he self-harming? Can nine years old self harm?”

Andrew stands up and shrugs. “Even mice and birds will self-harm if their cage is too small. I don’t think there’s an age limit.”

For a while, the two of them keep quiet.

Jiro looks asleep, but a part of Neil wonders if he really is. The boy is a liar, there’s no doubt about that.

Who better than a liar to recognize another liar?

He had almost fooled Neil a little while ago.

“I’m sorry,” Neil says, “I didn’t mean to scare him like that, but… I also can't let this slide. David woke up screaming. Screaming. Jiro might have fears of his own, but that doesn’t mean he’s innocent. Riko could lie like that too. Do you remember the interview with Kathy? How he was torturing Kevin right there under the spotlight, and no one could even tell.”

Andrew looks torn. “Riko wasn’t born a sociopath, though. Tetsuji molded him into what he was. But now Tetsuji is out of the picture.”

“Maybe Testuji wasn’t involved in Jiro’s education, but we don’t know who else was. We don’t know what they taught him. What they rewarded him for.” Neil says.

“We don’t know what his education has been up until now, but we are the ones in charge of his education from this point moving forward.”

That… is true. Neil finds himself sitting on the bed in front of Jiro.

“I’ll go check on the others, and try to talk to David alone, see what I can get out of him.” Andrew starts leaving.

A part of Neil is already panicking at the idea of being left alone with the unconscious kid, but another part of his brain is grinding on a suspicion he couldn’t shake since earlier.

“Why is he afraid of cats?”

“I don’t know.” Andrew slows before reaching the door. “Why am I afraid of heights? Phobias don’t need to make sense.”

Neil shuts his mouth. That’s a reasonable explanation. It’s the one he wants to believe, so that the explanation his memories are providing can be squashed back into the depth of his mind, never to be touched again.

Forget about the cats. What is actually going on?

The other morning, David said that Jiro had left the room, and he had tried to follow, but failed. What if yesterday David had succeeded? He must have followed Jiro somewhere, and he must have seen something he wasn’t supposed to.

The promptness with which David had lied about everything being alright means that he had already been convinced to hide the truth.

Maybe Kevin could get to him?

Neil thinks back of that time Kevin had tried to convinced David to avoid Jiro.

So maybe Kevin could not get to him.

A deep sigh leaves him.

Jiro’s eyes are moving frantically behind his eyelids. The resemblance with Riko is striking. Same cheekbones, same lips... The way he freaked out earlier was not like Riko at all, though.

Neil finds his hand in his pocket, brushing the smooth edges of his phone. It’s an ancient piece of technology at this point. Andrew says it belongs in a museum, but Neil can’t bring himself to change it.

Don’t think too much about this, or you won’t do it.

Neil dugs his phone out and flips it open. There’s no point calling Kevin to ask him about Riko, he would immediately cut the call off.

So, Neil dials a number he hasn’t made in years, and yet, the other side picks up on the first ring.

“Josten.” Jean greets with his usual cheer. “I heard about your leg.”

Neil waits for a “sorry”, “that’s tough”, or “hope you’re ok”, but Jean doesn’t waste time with any of that, for which Neil is grateful.

“Yes, it gave us a big scare, but the Moriyamas were willing to keep me as it is.”

“They’re not wasteful people.” Jean grunts. His French accent is less pronounced these days, for some reason.

“They’re not.”

“So what do you want?”

Neil appreciates bluntness and can easily reciprocate. “I need you to tell me about Riko. When he was young.”

There’s a long pause and then the distant sound of a ball hitting the protective wall. Even in the middle of a conversation like that, Neil’s heart yearns to be there, for the court, for the racquet.

“You’ve met him.” It’s what Jean comes up with after that long silence.

“I’ve met him at the end of his days, I want to know how he was before. When he was a kid. You were there, weren’t you?”

When the next pause starts, Neil can feel the tension growing. He can’t just barge in and ask Jean to spill some gossip about his abuser. Neil should at least give him an explanation. “It’s not open information yet, but Ichirou put me to coach his little league team. There’s his son among the players. His second son, obviously. I’m at a loss with him, I need some tips.”

Neil hears Jean chuckling, but it’s far from a cheerful sound. “Well, no water after midnight, for sure.”

“What?”

“Josten, what do you want me to tell you? Riko as a kid was a spoiled brat who always got whatever he wanted, except for the one thing that could have actually meant something to him. He wanted a family, and all he had was an uncle who beat him because he wasn’t good enough and a surrogate brother who had never found the courage to say no to him. But what the fuck does this have to do with you?”

“I told you. Ichirou’s son is in my team. On the outside he looks obedient and meek, but I know he’s hiding something, and I can’t let the other children get hurt because he has daddy issues.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Josten? Ichirou didn’t like Riko, remember? He shot him in the fucking head. He thought the branch family was too out of control. Why are you assuming he would let his own son go down the same path?”

“Then what path would he want him to take?”

“The second son is a spare and a tool for the main family. As a spare, he needs to be able to do anything a legitimate heir would, and as a tool, he needs to obey. There’s nothing else to it. Riko had aspirations, he desired things outside of his station and he took too many initiatives. If you think you have a wild dog between your hands just because Riko was, think again. Ichirou is not an idiot, and he doesn’t have many relatives left, he can’t afford to screw up with Jiro.”

Neil blinks. “How do you know his name?”

The pause that hits them now is nothing like the ones before.

“If this is all, I have to go.” But Jean doesn’t wait for Neil’s answer.

The call disconnects.  

Chapter Text

Even deep in his sleep, Jiro can hear voices and see lights beyond his closed eyelids. Some part of him knows that he should wake up, but there is some deep need keeping him locked into sleep.

Still, Jiro fights to wake. That small part of him that is lucid tries to hang onto spoken words. They are just sounds with no meaning, a male voice rumbling and whispering at the same time. Who is he? Why is he so close?

Mr. Asahi?

A thought with no words, just a feeling that fills his unconscious mind with dread.

Lord Ichirou?

A hand on his skin, and Jiro slams his eyes open. There’s a face so close to his own that Jiro’s hand turns into a fist before there's space for rational thinking. Jiro strikes his assailant in the throat with everything he’s got.

The assaulter stumbles back. Coughs.

“I think he’s ok.” Jiro recognizes Minyard’s voice and his mocking tone.

The picture gets clearer, his eyes finally focus on the room: on the bed in front of him there are Minyard and David sitting. The first one with an amused expression on his face, the second one has silent tears streaming down his cheeks.

Then, standing unsteadily nearby and holding his throat with one hand, there’s…

Jiro loses the ability to breathe as he realizes he’s just punched the Butcher’s son. The boy’s mouth turns into an arid landscape, his tongue feels like a stiff plank of wood.

The Butcher’s son lets out a few more wheezing coughs. The scarring on his face twists and pulls every time he moves his lips.

Jiro is half sitting, as still as a living being can be. He tries to shut down his galloping terror and school his expression into calmness. An apologetic calmness. Be apologetic.

“I’m deeply sorry, sir. I didn’t recognize you.” Somehow, his voice comes out firm.

The Butcher’s son grabs the metal pole from the upper bunk to better balance on his fake leg. “It’s fine.” He grumbles. His blue eyes are shooting daggers at the boy. Those eyes never smile. Even when the mouth does.

Jiro sits in a more composed position and lowers his head into what he hopes gets taken for submission.

Years ago, Asahi had shown Jiro the whole compilation stored in the Moriyama’s archives about the Wesniski family. He’d had nightmares about those blue eyes for months afterwards.

Jiro has seen what the Butcher used to do, and he has seen what Nathaniel was capable of when he was half Jiro’s age.

Minyard says something to the Butcher’s son, drawing Jiro’s attention. It’s way too fast for Jiro to understand; his Russian is basic at best. He can usually spot one in every ten words, but this time he misses all of them.

Meanwhile, David is still crying. He’s not making any sound, it’s just tears falling silently.

The conversation between the two men ends. Jiro’s focus on David must have been obvious because Minyard offers an explanation freely: “David was rather upset when I told him you would not be attending your lessons this morning. He insisted he won’t join Mr. Suji’s class without you.”

The lessons.

Jiro forces himself not to react. What time is it? He cannot have slept for too long, right?

Mr. Suji would be boiling if neither of them shows up to class after what happened yesterday.

“But why would I not be attending my class, sir?” Jiro asks innocently, pulling even a smile. He gets up and offers his hand to David, who takes it without hesitation.

“Because you just had such a serious breakdown that you lost consciousness.” Minyard explains.

“I was simply tired. I did not sleep well tonight.”

“Didn’t you?” The Butcher’s son is still massaging his throat as if to soothe the pain. “How come?”

Jiro tires to hold his gaze, but it’s hard. His eyes keep going back to those scars, his mind can only think of knives and blood.

“I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.”

The Butcher’s son is very clearly displeased. A shiver goes up Jiro’s spine. He doesn’t know how to please this man. He thought he understood what would set Nathaniel off, but now Jiro is forced to reconsider. It would be dangerous to assume he can predict him.

But if there is one thing Jiro can be sure is this: in every story he’s heard of the Minyard-Josten duo, it was always Minyard the one to be the manic, smiling, out of control menace, and Josten acted as his keeper; but Jiro is sure reality is quite the opposite. Nathaniel is the rabid dog and, for some reason, Minyard is holding the leash. Maybe that’s why the goalkeeper had been allowed to stay.

In light of this, Jiro turns to Minyard. “May we go?”

It’s hard to read him, his expressions are always minuscule, a smile can be a simple twitch, a frown one pull of his eyebrow.

Jiro is not completely sure, but he would say right now Minyard is both intrigued and amused at him.

After some consideration, the goalkeeper tilts his head to point at the door, giving the children license to leave.

The Butcher’s son does nothing but looking annoyed, proving Jiro’s point once again.

Jiro quickly bows his head and pulls David forward, setting an hurried pace until they are both out of danger.

“How late are we?” Jiro asks in Japanese.

“At least an hour.”

Jiro stops. Blinks. Hold it in. Don’t laugh. “Is that… your Japanese?”

David pouts and glares.

“No, it’s cute!” Jiro tries to recover.

“It’s not supposed to be cute!”

“Well… you have an accent.” It must be the compressed fear of the last twelve hours, but Jiro bursts out laughing.

David looks offended, but in that silly, childish way that promises no real harm has been done. He rubs his cheeks clean of the last tears and by the end of it he’s almost smirking too.

They hurry along. Jiro doesn’t even turn his eyes to the stairs for the third floor when they go past them. He tries to keep his head clean. Yes, Mr. Suji will be absolutely furious with him tonight, but it’s nothing that Jiro can’t handle. Mr. Suji doesn’t like inflicting pain; he can dispense a slap or two when it’s necessary, but it’s been a long time since Jiro had needed such discipline.

When they get to the door, they knock and don’t dare to cross until Mr. Suji has told them to come in.

A predictable, murderous look pins them down as soon as they enter. “If you can’t be bothered to come to class on time, you can wait outside until my lesson is over.”

Jiro apologizes profusely for the both of them, and quickly pushes David out again.

As soon as the door is closed, David finds a spot at the wall where he slowly slides to the ground.

“We are not supposed to sit.” Jiro finds a place next to David. He puts his hands behind his back, hiding from view, where his nails start to scratch automatically. It’s only then that Jiro feels a tinge of pain along the back of his hands. His pads feel the skin all around until they find fresh lines Jiro doesn’t remember drawing.

An additional bit of worry mounts on top of all his other worries of the last few months. Great.

“Mr. Suji will get mad if he sees you like that. We are supposed to stand.”

David moans. “For three hours?!”

That’s right.

After some more complaining, David stands. He manages to stay put for about thirty seconds, then he starts hopping on his toes. Then he just gives up and starts walking up and down the corridor.

That too lasts only about ten minutes, then he starts running from one end of the hallway to the other, and when he gets near Jiro, he puts his hand out to touch him and call him a duck.

That’s weird.

Sometimes David calls him a goose too.

David is quite noisy in everything he does, but running up and down, banging his shoes at every step, is bound to attract some attention eventually. 

Mr. Suji slams the door open; his eyes as thin as blades. David doesn’t even have time to look scared that Mr. Suji grabs him from the back of his shirt and drags him to the wall, next to Jiro.

“Put your arms forward.” Mr. Suji orders in the strictest voice Jiro has heard him use in years.

David obeys, confused, as Mr. Suji goes back into the classroom for a second, coming right back with a stack of thick books.

“Hold these.” The books get unceremoniously dropped on the boy’s arms, who falters and sways, but ultimately stays put.

"It's heavy," David points out, as if Mr. Suji might not already know.

Mr. Suji glares like this child is the very bane of his existence. “Hold them.” He turns to leave but stops to give a sound slap to the side of Jiro’s head first.

Jiro keeps his eyes down and any comment for himself. This seems to satisfy Mr. Suji enough, for he goes back into his classroom.

David bears his weights for longer than Jiro expected, but soon enough his arms start shaking and the boy gives up. The books fall to the ground.

“Pick them up, quick!” Jiro whispers. The noise was going to attract…

Mr. Suji is fast to come back, though it wouldn’t have made a difference if he had waited, cause David hasn’t even tried to pick them up.

The teacher grabs the books from the floor and orders the boy to put his arms forward again.

“It’s too heavy!” David complains.

“Then, next time you will learn to stay still.” Mr. Suji grabs the boy’s arms and forces them in the right position, with the books back in their place. “Now, hold them.”

David's anger flares like a spark meeting gasoline. He forcefully hurls the books at Mr. Suji, who staggers back, thoroughly disconcerted.

Jiro sees all this and knows consequences will follow. To Jiro’s knowledge, no one has ever disrespected Mr. Suji like that before.

It seems like David understands this too, because among that fiery anger there’s fear too.

Jiro can’t bear to know David is scared and in trouble, when he knows this situation is all Jiro’s responsibility in the first place.

The older boy moves a bit to the side, trying to hide the younger one from view. “Uhm…”

Jiro doesn’t have time to argue a defense, Mr. Suji slaps him again, this time right on the cheek.

“This is all your doing, you know that?” Mr. Suji whispers angrily.

“Yes, sir.” How could he not know?

“Then you take his punishment until he learns to behave.”

Mr. Suji doesn’t wait to check if Jiro will obey before leaving. Of course, he will.

“Don’t do it! Put them down!” David tries to stop Jiro as he’s picking up the books.

“It’s fine. I’ve done it a million times. It gets easier after a while.” And he’d rather be the one to get punished anyway.

David stumbles back to the wall and hits it with his fists. “I hate him! I want him to die!”

“Don’t say that. I told you, he’s not a bad man, he’s just strict.”

From that moment on, David stays put where he is, but it’s clear it’s a challenge for him. At the end, he settles for wobbling on his feet and biting his nails, and that seems barely enough to contain his energy.

Jiro has never had any issue staying still. Even when pain is climbing up his arms, into his shoulders and neck, he remains where he has been put. After a while, his arms starts shaking, but Jiro knows that if he can get past this phase, he’ll stop feeling anything at all.

Indeed, numbness arrives quickly. It spreads from his fingers to his elbows, turning into a strong tingling from time to time.

Jiro won’t be able to hold a racquet today. And the Butcher’s son will have questions.

How can Jiro possibly get them all off his back?

…

When the lesson is over, Mr. Suji comes out of the classroom, stiff like a marionette. He lifts the books from Jiro’s arms and doesn’t say a word.

The other children start flowing into the hallway, still trapped in the silent discipline required by their teacher.

“Let’s not have a repeat of today’s behavior in the future.” Mr. Suji leaves them with that simple statement.

Jiro can finally drop his arms, but he does so slowly, knowing that the ache in his muscles will only worsen at every movement.

“Mr. Jiro?”

Oh, God. Theodore is already here.

Jiro gives him a polite nod, and the other kid returns a proper bow.

“May I be of assistance?”

Yes. Leave me alone.

“No, need, Theo. Thanks.”

Jiro will sooner trust a Wesniski than a Woolridge. Yes, Wesniskis were butchers of human flesh, but at least they didn’t trade in it.

Mafias are proper states of their own, they need all the pieces of a state to function. If the Moriyamas were the government and the Wesniskis the police, Woolridges were the ambassadors.

In the real world, their role translates to accountants, lawyers, business executives… anything that could connect the illicit world of organized crime to the honest, lawful, public world where money is printed and distributed.

They have the tasks of finding new assets, new clients, trading deals, and covering up any trace the main family might leave.

Jiro doesn’t know what could have possibly happened, why Theodore had been sent here. Either he had personally scorned someone important, or the Woolridge family was falling out of Lord Ichirou’s grace, and sending one of their pupils to rot here was the Lord’s way of showing his displeasure.

Mom would have loved to know this juicy bit of information. She has always been thirsty for any insight that might show any weakness in the Moriyama’s empire.

David grabs Jiro’s hand in reassurance, but his nice gesture is anything but pleasant to Jiro’s worn-out muscles.

“Is he bothering you? I can get him off you.” Theo says in Japanese.

David holds his hand tighter but doesn’t show he understood those words.

“It’s fine. He’s not bothering me.” Jiro smiles.

It’s inevitable for Jiro to wonder how humiliating Theo finds his new status.

As the second son, Jiro doesn’t hold any real power, if not the reputation of his last name, while Theodore is supposed to be an active member of the organization.

Theo is not required to show any particular reverence to Jiro, just like Malcolm isn’t (and doesn’t). The fact that he is going out of his way to play the part of the perfect servant is worrying.

Does he think his position at Jiro’s side will be permanent, and he won’t be able to strive for a higher position in the future? Or…

Does Theo have any reason to believe Kengo won’t inherit their father’s place, leaving Jiro as the sole successor?

That can’t be. Just the thought of something happening to Kengo is enough to paralyze Jiro.

It's best not to dwell on it.

…

Practice went as horrible as expected. The Butcher’s son gave Jiro about ten minutes of pathetic performance before sending him to warm a bench.

The rest of the day was spent with the eyes of both coaches glued to Jiro’s nape.

It’s fine. It’ll pass. They’ll forget about it.

The captain of the Hatchlings goes to bed repressing the looming sense of dread that has been following him since the day before.

“Goodnight, children.” The Butcher’s son says, turning the lights off.

Some of the kids reply, some of them don’t. Jiro is just trying to look invisible.

David is on the bed right in front of his, with his eyes closed shut like he’s forcing himself to fall asleep by sheer willpower.

Jiro sighs when he hears the door closing. But his day isn’t over. There’s still: listening to Mr. Suji’s scolding, the third floor and… maybe Jiro could chat with Kengo tonight. Or maybe… even his mom.

That last wish is always an energizing prospect. It gives him the strength to remain vigil in the dark room, surrounded by slow and heavy breathing.

An hour goes by. Maybe even two.

Jiro climbs down the ladder with feet light like feathers.

Before crossing the door, he checks David’s bed twice. The little striker looks asleep. And he better stay asleep tonight.

Jiro starts walking down the hallway, fast on his tiptoes, even his heart is beathing quietly.

When he reaches the secured door, something sets him off. He can’t tell what it is until it happens again. A noise. An undefined noise coming from two doors down, the coaches’ room.

They’re probably just… doing the kind of stuff two gay men do in their own bedroom. Probably.

Or maybe they have been waiting awake for Jiro.

The kid needs to be sure. He pushes the secured door open, allowing it to make its usual clicking sound. Then, instead of continuing down the hall, Jiro runs back to the kids’ room, allowing the door to close on its own.

He quickly climbs back in his bunk and hides beneath the covers.

His ears twitch at the distant sound of steps. The click of the secured door comes again, and then another time. Steps are moving closer.

Jiro closes his eyes and slows down his breathing.

After some more soft noise, the kid is blinded by a bright light making its way through his closed eyelids.

Still, Jiro doesn’t twitch or squints. He keeps on sleeping undisturbed.

It comes to him only when the coaches leave that he has given himself away. If he had really been sleeping, he would have been woken up by the light pointed at his face.

What is he supposed to do now? Mr. Suji would be waiting for him. Kengo might be waiting for him!

The Butcher’s son would not let go until he has an explanation.

Maybe that’s what Jiro should give him.

Nathaniel and Minyard know Jiro has been somewhere at night. They know something happened with David.

Why not give them a fake secret?

It’s the best plan he’s got, and the only one he can come up with with such short notice.

Jiro climbs down the ladder again and climbs up to David’s bunk. David opens his eyes, without even trying to pretend to have been asleep.

“You can’t sleep?” Jiro asks with his innocent smile in place.

David shrugs. “I can never sleep.”

“Do you want to burn some energy? The court is empty. We could have it all for ourselves.” Jiro feels bad. This is not properly lying, but… He’s not telling the whole truth. This is not why he wants to take David out of the secured wing. And even though he’s not dragging the boy into danger, it still feels wrong.

“But… won’t be end up in trouble?”

“Everyone’s asleep. It’ll be fine.” Jiro lies and David believes him. A gigantic smiles spreads over the boy’s face.

He’s immediately up, immediately so full of energy he could be jumping through the roof.

“Quietly! Leave your shoes here.”

And off they go.

David is anything but quiet, but it’s not really important. If nothing, it would increase their chances of attracting the coaches.  

Come along. Jiro thinks as the secured door clicks for the fifth time that night. Come find out our terrible secret.  

If Nathaniel and Minyard are following them, they are good at hiding, because Jiro can’t hear anything coming from behind, and he doesn’t dare turning around. Or maybe it's just that David makes a rumble every time his jump lands on the floor, covering any other possible noise.

They go down the stairs. Jiro is trying not think about what he was supposed to be doing tonight on the third floor. Will Mr. Asahi notice Jiro’s negligence next time he comes here? What would he do?

Jiro is no stranger to physical punishments, but there are lines that his mother and Mr. Suji won’t cross. Lines that don’t exist in Mr. Asahi’s mind.

By the time they reach the first floor, David is completely engulfed in excitement. He runs forward for the locker room, ready for another session of intense exy practice.

David doesn’t look a lot like Kevin’s son, except for the undeniable joy they both find in the sport.  

Jiro starts running too, because… who cares at this point?

“Let’s just goo!” David stops before the locker-room and starts jumping, pointing in the direction of the court.

“We have no shoes!” Jiro laughs. “We need to get changed.”

“Owww! But quickly! No gears! I want to run!”

They indeed only take the time to put on shoes and grab their racquets before they immediately head for the court.

David’s warm-up consists of sprinting around the court like a bullet.

Jiro doesn’t even try to keep up. He’s sleep deprived, his arms are still aching, and there’s so much stuff he has to keep into account at all times… Asahi, Suji, mom, Kengo, the third floor, his exy performance, Theodore, the Butcher’s son, Malcolm.

And now David. He has to think about David too because it’s Jiro’s fault if he got involved in this mess.  

“WoooohOOOOOOooooo!”

David is not slowing down.

“How do you do that?” Jiro is genuinely baffled. He’s this close to just lay down and sleep on the floor.  

David stops at the opposite side of the court only to scream with all his lung capacity: “LET’S PLAY EXY!!”

Well. Alright. Let’s play exy.

It’s not exactly the funniest thing in the world for Jiro, but he’s sure his destiny could have been much worse.

Their private practice begins as any other. Jiro tries some passages and is met with the violent and sudden hits of David’s ball, bouncing just about anywhere.

Why doesn’t he just… think? About where he’s throwing the ball?

After about ten minutes of both of them running to retrieve David’s crazy shots, Jiro imposes a change of pace.

“Just. Keep the ball in the net for two seconds. Then throw it.”

“BUT! That’ll make me slower!” David complains.

“Yeah, but you’ll have time to aim.”

It doesn’t work.

At first, David simply can’t remember he’s supposed to wait two seconds, but then it’s just like… he can’t.  

“I have another idea.” Jiro drops his racquet, retrieves the ball and places himself right behind David.

David automatically turns to look at him.

“No, no. Face the wall. I’ll make the ball bounce on the wall, into your net. Then we wait two seconds.”

David doesn’t even ask what that we means, but it’s immediately evident when David catches the ball, and Jiro grabs David’s racquet keeping it steady.

The little striker is startled at first, but he does stop. For far more than two seconds.

“You’re supposed to throw it now.”

David looks at him weird, like he knows this idea is stupid but he’s too nice to say it out loud.

And… ok. Jiro admits it’s stupid when at their tenth attempt David still makes the weakest, most awkward throw of his tiny career.

“What about… have you ever tried to divide the goal into sections?”

David shakes his head.

“My old coach used to train me a lot with that. It’s for learning how to shoot in every corner of the goal.”

But maybe Jiro can adapt the exercise a little.

He runs out of the court to get to the storage room and grab same tape. When he comes back, it takes a while to get the goal ready.

Jiro has to climb on the poles and tie the knot from one side, then to the other. For the vertical line, he has to tie the knot on the upper pole and then tie the other end to something heavy that would keep the tape still. Jiro uses a cone to do it, then steps back to admire his work.

The goal is divided into four sections. Jiro used to do it with eight, but this should suffice.

“What do I do?”

“You shoot in goal. But! Before shooting you have to call out loud from what corner you’re going to score. Top right, top left, bottom right or bottom left. Clear?”

David doesn’t look very sure, but he gets into position.

Jiro throws the ball right into his net and David throws it full force in the bottom right corner.

“Woohooo! Point!”

“You didn’t call the shot, it doesn’t count.”

David pouts. He’s really cute when he does that.

“Come on. As soon as you have the ball, say where you’re going to shoot.”

Jiro throws again. David’s concentration is a visible force. The ball is in his net and he’s not throwing.

His eyes are moving frantically from one square to the other.

“Uh-ah the top… uh, right.” He throws, and scores. Well, it’s an empty goal and they’re quite close, but…

“YOU AIMED!” Jiro finds himself jumping out of pure joy. Which is ridiculous. But then David jumps too, yelling and cheering for himself, like Jiro never could.

It’s like David is giving him permission to be ridiculous. It’s a new feeling, and new feelings are always scary, even when they’re good.

“Y-you keep on practicing that. I’ll just… try some throws by myself.”

“Yes, captain!” David smiles.

Jiro doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve to be called captain and he doesn’t deserve to be smiled at.

The boy drags himself to half-court.

What would mom say if she saw him today? Worse yet, what if today is the day Mr. Suji has reached her? What if she’s waiting for him right now on the phone?

What if Kengo is asking after him and Mr. Suji tells him what Jiro has pulled off last night?

Why can’t he just… talk to his family?! It’s not fair!

Jiro keeps throwing the ball at the wall, catching it with his racquet and throwing it again. Faster and faster. His shoulders ache.

Why did it have to be Nathaniel?

Another throw, another hit.

Why does Lord Ichirou keep torturing Jiro sending awful people his way, when Jiro has been nothing but obedient?

Why?

WHY?

Those blue eyes pierce through his frenzy bringing back images of flesh being cut open and screams. So many screams. Jiro can hear them. He can feel the uncomfortable warmth of the urine that had stained his pants when Asahi had showed him those videos.

Jiro had pissed himself just by looking at what a Wesniski can do. Mr. Asahi had forbidden him to get changed afterwards.

The humiliation is still burning hot. Jiro had just stood there. Not a single complaint. Head bowed. Lips smiling. Yes, sir.

The ball crashes against the wall and zooms like a hawk, hitting… hitting…

David falls to the ground with a cry of pain.

“David!” Jiro drops his racquet and rushes. The little striker has fallen on his bottom and he’s holding the back of his shoulder like he’s scared it might fall down.

Jiro slides on the floor, frantic, terrified. He’s just ruined the only good thing he’s got here.

“David! I’m so sorry! Are you ok? Let me see. Let me see.”

Between a wail and a groan, David actually smiles. “Guess we should have worn the gear.”

How does he keep smiling? Jiro can’t even move anymore.

“I didn’t mean to do it.”

David looks back at Jiro all confused. “I know,” he says, like it’s obvious.

Those two tiny words leave Jiro feeling like crying. David knows.

Maybe nothing else is going right in Jiro’s life, but David knows.  

Chapter Text

Andrew and Neil are watching the boys from the highest and furthest stands of the court. Neil is quiet and pensive. Andrew could guess what’s going on in the man’s mind. They have been stalking Jiro and David all night, and what they’ve seen doesn’t add up to their initial theory.

“He’s playing us. He knows we’re looking.” Neil is sitting on one of the green plastic chairs on the stands, his arms crossed, his shoulders raised tensed in a defensive posture.

Andrew looks down at the almost empty court. Jiro is pressing an icepack to David’ shoulder, his usual composed expression has been abandoned for an adequate amount of panic and guilt.

“He could be faking it,” Neil mutters, but his words are dripping with doubt.

Andrew doesn’t bother replying. It’s obvious Jiro is smart, cunning and an experienced liar, but there’s no way he intentionally made a shot like that, rebounding on the wall at full force, in order to hit David on the other side of the court.

Whether he wanted to hurt David or not, the kid just doesn’t have the skill to make a shot like that on purpose.

If Jiro is milking this opportunity to appear meek and innocent, Andrew really needs to congratulate him on his acting skills.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Neil says.

Andrew falls on the chair next to his. “Let’s recap what we know for sure: Jiro and David were out somewhere last night, something went down that scared David, but they both denied anything happened. Now Jiro is trying to throw us off, making us believe they’re just hiding secret night practices. So. They were definitely not at the court last night. We thought Jiro had hurt David, it was a logical and linear theory, but we can’t deny it doesn’t hold up anymore.”

Neil hums unhappily.

“David is not scared of Jiro,” Andrew states the obvious. Even now, with David bent in pain, the boy is still smiling and chatting a hundred miles per hour, while Jiro struggles to keep the icepack pressed to his shoulder.

Neil shakes his head, still shut in his own mind. With one hand holding the back of the chair, and the other supporting his pained hip, Neil slowly gets up. “Let’s go back. We won’t find out anything else here. And I don’t like leaving the others alone for so long.”

They’re both quiet on their way back. Andrew sees Neil’s gait becoming more and more uncertain, and he has to stop himself twice from holding him. Neil is not in a good mood, and he hates being reminded that his body is still barely able to hold him up; helping him would do nothing but worsen his temper.

So, Andrew refrains from reaching out, but he walks slower than he normally would, and detours for the elevator before Neil can stubbornly head for the stairs.

Before going back to their room, they check the kids’ bedroom with the phone’s flashlight. Other than the two expected empty beds, everyone is in their rightful place.

Melody blinks a single eye, looks at them, then turns the other way.

Sadie has a leg and an arm dangling from her bed. She doesn’t snore, but she still sleeps with as much passion as the activity allows.

Andrew knows she won’t wake up even if an earthquake hits, so he doesn’t hesitate to push her back to the center of the bed and pull the covers on top of her.

“Done?” Neil asks in a whisper.

Andrew nods and starts for the door when a sharp, whimpering breath stops him. He turns, already knowing the origin of the sound.

Even in his nightmares Cedric is quiet.

Every muscle in his face is contracted. He’s sleeping on his back, rigid like a corpse.

Andrew is stuck on that tiny piece of floor; glued to the tiles. What is he supposed to do? How can anyone even begin to know what to do right now?

Instinct makes him look back at Neil, the shadow at his side always ready to support him. But Neil is looking as lost as Andrew feels, if not more.

The whimpering stops and a sudden spasm attracts Andrew’s eyes again. Cedric’s eyes are open, staring unblinking at the upper bed.

“Cedric.” Andrew barely moves his lips, letting out the faintest sound, but even that is enough to shake the boy. Cedric turns his head so fast his neck should snap, his eyes are looking huge in his tiny skull.

Andrew gives him a moment to recognize him, to remember whether he trusts this man or not, to remember that he’s here and not there.

Only then he takes a step forward. He doesn’t get too close; Cedric is still lying down, in the most vulnerable position anyone can be.

Going down on one knee, trying to look harmless, Andrew realizes he still doesn’t know what to do.

“Ice cream,” is what leaves his mouth in the end.

Cedric looks understandably confused.

“Do you want some? We’ve got some ice cream left. I can bring it here, or you can come and eat it outside. I can stay with you or leave, it’s fine either way. And if you don’t want any, I can always eat it all by myself.”

Cedric blinks, the tension in his body recedes a little. He looks at Neil, still standing at the door with the flashlight, then at Andrew.

When he starts moving, he’s careful. He pushes away the blankets and inspects his pants, patting the sheets to be sure, but it looks like this nightmare went by without accidents.

Then, they boy drops two tiny feet on the floor and, as quiet as a ghost, makes his way to where Andrew is crouching.

All three of them leave the kid’s bedroom. Cedric follows closely as they head for the coaches’ room. Both Andrew and Neil are hurrying slightly, it would be really awkward if Jiro and David were to come back right now.

Neil opens the door to their quarters and offers a very forced smile to Cedric as a welcome.

Thankfully, the boy doesn’t know Neil enough to distinguish his genuine, unthinking smiles from those planned “I really need to smile right now” kind of smiles.

Andrew flicks the light on, and they all squint against the harsh brightness.

Andrew looks down at the kid, his ruffled curls, his sleeves running over his hands, and he feels a tangible force impact his chest.

Mine.

Sir meows as he imperiously stands on the kitchen counter.

“Do you like cats?” Neil asks with a badly hidden sense of urgency. Apparently, their little fiasco with Jiro and the cats from earlier that morning is still burning hot for Neil.

Cedric pulls the tiniest smile, his blue eyes lock with the fluffball waving his tail around.

Neil takes that as a yes and looks very excited to have found something that Cedric likes. He wobbles ahead and picks up the cat in his arms, only to realize he can’t bend down to Cedric’s level, not without using his hands for support.

Andrew solves the issue in a few seconds: he pulls a chair from the table, grabs Neil by the arm and guides him on it, holding his weight when Neil loses balance so that he doesn’t splatter himself on the seat.

Now the cat is at Cedric’s height.

Andrew steps back and watches the three of them interact shily with each other.

“He’s a good cat. He won’t scratch you. Here, let him smell your hand.”

Cedric raises his hand and Sir sniffs it with his mouth slightly open.

Neil is looking at the kid with the nervousness of those dogs that are too anxious to play with the others, so they just stand whining on the sidelines with their hair sticking up on their necks.

He’ll be alright, Andrew thinks. Compared to Andrew, Neil is a social butterfly. As soon as he gets over his fear of hurting the kids, he’ll be all over them like a momma bear.

And little by little, it’s happening.

Andrew retreats to the kitchen and finds the last remnants of his strawberry ice cream. After this package is over, they’ll be completely out. All the food they brought with them the first day will be gone.

The official kitchen of the stadium never runs out of food, obviously. There’s a truck scheduled to come every month to stock the place with all its necessities. But the problem still stands. The Moriyama won’t bring ice cream for Andrew with the next truck, they are evil like that. 

“We need to go grocery shopping.” Andrew says as he fills two scrawny portions of ice cream in a pair of bowls.

Neil is too focused on not scaring Cedric away to give him one of his witty answers. The boy is pecking around Neil and the cat like a pigeon that really wants that one crumb that’s too close to the man spreading the food.

His tiny fingers fly over the cat’s head in an impression of a pat. At each phantom stroke, Cedric gets a little bolder and almost touches the hair.

His smile is very composed, but not like he’s holding it back, but like… he’s not very used to smiling and his face muscles feel kind of awkward in this new position.

Maybe this means his nightmare has been forgotten for good.

“Ice cream time.”

Cedric jumps at the clicking sound of the ceramic bowl hitting the counter, his eyes immediately darting to the source.

Neil sends an annoyed look Andrew’s way for interrupting their moment, which… ok. Fair. He could have waited a little longer.

The boy leaves the cat and hurries to the counter, where he grabs the edge and stares intensely at the bowls until Andrew moves one closer for him.

“All yours.”

Having been sufficiently reassured that he’s allowed to take the food, Cedric grabs the bowl and immediately shoves the first scoop down his throat.

Andrew nibs his own portion with less energy, but still very content. For a moment, Andrew pretends this is just as sweet as it looks. He pretends Cedric is gulping down his food because he really loves strawberry ice cream, not because he has known how terrible hunger can be, and he’s terrified to feel it again. Andrew pretends this is just a little midnight treat they’re having, not a clumsy attempt at diverting the boy’s attention from whatever horror had been occupying his sleeping mind.

He pretends the three of them are an actual family, like the ones you see on commercials. Like the ones Andrew had dreamed of when he was a Doe.

It’s a silly fantasy. An indulgence. Andrew recognizes it but doesn’t try to squash it away. We all need little indulging fantasies every once in a while.

After licking the bowl clean, the kid places it back on the counter, then shots a quick look Andrew’s way. He points at the pack, but before Andrew can fill him with a second portion, the boy points at Neil next, still sitting with Sir in his lap.

“Oh, Neil doesn’t like ice cream very much.”

Cedric’s eyes get huge, understandably so. Who’s the weirdo that doesn’t like ice cream?

“Yeah, I don’t get it either. He must have taken too many balls to the head. It fucked up his taste buds.”

Cedric grabs the countertop and crouches a little, hiding away his expression. Hopefully it was a cheeky smile.

“Alright, you little monkey. Back to bed now?”

Cedric nods automatically, but Andrew watches the boy carefully to decipher how he actually feels about going back to sleep.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t fucking know. Is putting the kid back in bed the right thing? What if he needs anything? Cedric can’t even talk; how would he ask for help?

“Or we can just… go for a walk if you don’t want to sleep yet. Your choice.”

For a moment, Cedric seems overwhelmed just by the existence of a choice. Then, tiredness has the better of him and a huge yawn escapes him.

“Ok. Bed then. Alright?”

The kid nods. He looks back at Neil and Sir, waves them goodbye, and then grabs Andrew’s sleeve, declaring him his official escort for crossing the hallway.

“Goodnight.” Neil waves back.

The next morning, Andrew wakes up with a jolt at the sound of his fucking ringtone. Neil also jolts awake, looks around all confused, only to dig his face back into the pillow when he finds the source of the noise.

“What.” Talking in the morning is a painful chore.

On the other side of the call, a voice huffs amused, as if pissing off Andrew first thing in the morning it’s its favorite activity.

“I’ve got your file,” Aaron says.

Andrew rolls back on the mattress with the phone pressed to his hear. He blinks. Neil grunts and scoots closer to his side.

“File,” Andrew mumbles.

“Yeah. You sent me to Oakland? Remember? To collect your folder from your time in foster care.”

“Right.”

This is an important conversation. Andrew should probably try to activate more then the one neuron currently working on the issue. “Hmm. You can bring it here.”

“Oh, can I?”

Aaron is being a smartass and Andrew is too stunned from sleep deprivation to properly fight back. That’s annoying.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was thinking something more along the lines of you coming here. To my place. It would be nice having you here, for a change, and… you could spend some time with Katelyn too.”

Ok, time to be sharp again. Andrew forces himself to sit, making Neil complain with incoherent sounds until a hand takes up the task of dutifully caressing his hair.

“Spend some time with Katelyn,” Andrew repeats, in the very likely case he misheard.

“Yes. Spend some time with Katelyn.” Aaron is unrelenting. “Remember how we said we were going to actually work on our relationship?”

“The relationship including me and you. Katelyn was never mentioned.”

The heavy silence that follows is Aaron seething internally and still trying to remain calm. If there’s one thing that is always going to keep the twins at eternal distance is the fucking cheerleader.

“If you truly care about having a real relationship with me, you have to accept Katelyn as well. This is not up for debate. I’m not willing to negotiate. She is a part of me. If you really care about me, you care about her.”

Now, that’s just twisting logic. Andrew’s muscles are contracting in silent fury. His hand in Neil’s hair is still moving through the locks, but the action is stiff and forced.

“If I have to spend time with Katelyn, you have to spend time with Neil.”

Neil is suddenly very awake. He vehemently signals with desperate and silent gestures, shaking his head and hands in a firm 'no.'

Andrew ignores him. On the other side of the call, Aaron’s tight voice replies with a fake: “I’d love to.”

“Great! See you soon, brother.” And he hangs up the call.

“What the fuck.” Neil falls back on the pillow, groaning. “Why do I have to be punished?!” His voice is muffled and whiny.

“So all four of us are suffering. It’s more balanced that way.” Andrew untangles himself from Neil’s limbs and their immaculate sheets. There still hasn’t been a single drop of cum on that bed.

Andrew almost thinks about mentioning it. Then his eyes fall on Neil’s stump.

What the fuck is wrong with him? Neil has gone through a literal, massive mutilation of his body. He can barely touch his own leg, of course he’s not ready for sex.

Andrew gets up feeling upset with himself. Neil is not his sex doll, to use every time Andrew feels like sticking his dick somewhere. What was he even going to say? “I want to fuck”? Then, of course, Neil’s martyrism would take over, and he’d just pretend to want it.

It’s always yes with you.

Fuck. He needs a shower.

The loneliness that meets him in the bathroom helps him to ground himself. The warm water hitting his back reminds him to breathe deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

With one hand on the glass wall and his eyes closed, Andrew imagines someone else coming in the shower. His other hand travels down the length of his dick while the presence next to him touches his side, caresses it slowly.

Andrew can feel Neil’s body pressed on his back, and a moan of pleasure escapes him when he imagines Neil’s lips on his neck.

He imagines that the hand stroking his dick is Neil’s, that the faint sounds hovering in the shower are Neil’s, ready to cum, smiling, satisfied.

It’s not really what Andrew needs. His own hands are a poor substitute for Neil’s warm weight. Those glossy blue eyes with their dark pupils blown wide.

Chapter Text

Andrew puts on some clothes and comes back into main room. If Neil has heard what Andrew has been up to in the shower, he doesn’t show it.

While Neil is busy putting his prosthetic on, Andrew puts on some coffee and checks the notifications on his phone.

Bee is asking confirmation for today’s appointment. Andrew quickly sends a “confirmed” in their chat.

“I’ve got therapy this afternoon.”

Neil grunts in assent. It’s going to be a difficult session this time. They’ll have to talk about how Andrew is going to tackle the foster care discussion with Aaron.

I’ll tell you what I can. And I don’t know how much that is.

It’s important for Andrew to figure out what his boundaries are before he shows up at his brother’s house.

Coffee is ready. Black and soulless for Neil, and four teaspoons of sugar for Andrew. It’s still early, the kids should be asleep. They can calmly enjoy coffee at their small table.

Andrew places the mugs and pulls out Neil’s chair before sitting down on his own.

Neil’s walk to the table feels almost natural, he’s really starting to get used to his prosthetic. He’s also starting to avoid bitching about the little aids Andrew shoves his way every once in a while.

This morning, Neil sits down without complaining about his chair already being magically pulled out.

Andrew wraps his hands around the mug and enjoys the warmth on his skin. Neil, psychopath that he is, starts sipping his coffee, never mind that it’s a bigillion degrees hot.

“What am I even supposed to talk about with Aaron?” Neil complains.

Andrew shrugs. “The weather? I don’t care. Consider it payback for that time you forced therapy on us.”

Neil glares.

“Stop being a baby about it. I have to talk with Kathleen. Do you want to switch?”

Neil laughs in his coffee. “Fuck no.”

“If I can even extract something resembling a conversation out of her,” Andrew murmurs to himself.

“To be honest…” Neil keeps laughing.

“Shut up.”

“You ordered her not to talk to you.”

“That was almost ten years ago! This is malicious compliance at this point!”

In his second year of college, Andrew cornered Aaron's girlfriend in the campus library, ordering her never to address him. She immediately complied, initially fearful of Andrew's reputation. However, her mutism gradually became more and more hostile. The last years’ Thanksgiving and Foxes’ reunions had been somewhat awkward thanks to her.

“What is Aaron even expecting? Is he going to convince her to start acting like a big girl or am I supposed to do it?”

“There, you see,” Neil is still laughing, the fucker. “This is the kind of attitude that will not get you on her good side.”

“Then tell me, oh wise one, what attitude do you suggest?”

Based on his cheeky smile, Neil woke up in a good mood apparently. “Well, you could start by apologizing for that time you shoved her in the library.”

Andrew raises his mug to his lips and decides he’s willing to risk third degree burns to get some caffeine in his system as soon as possible. “Apologize,” he repeats slowly, tasting the sourness of that word on his tongue. Andrew knows how to do lots of things now. Apologizing is not one of them. “I had good reasons for what I did.”

Neil raises both eyebrows. “You called her a tumor.”

“I am willing to upgrade her to benign tumor.”

At this point Neil simply shakes his head, like he knows he won’t get anywhere with this conversation. He gets up, seemingly with no effort, and brings his mug to the sink.

“I’ll go to Aaron’s place tomorrow,” Andrew says.

“I?”

They’re not used to go anywhere separated, but times are different now.

“You should stay with the kids. We can’t leave them with that creepy teacher and even creepier nurse. I’ll be back for dinner.”

Neil hums unhappily. “What were you talking about with Aaron, anyway? What file did he need to bring?”

Andrew gulps down the last sip of his sweet coffee, giving himself ample time to think of how to reply. “My folder from my time in foster care. I asked Aaron to collect it for me.”

“Oh.” Neil’s voice goes a little higher than normal on that exclamation. He turns on the kitchen sink and starts scrubbing the mug like the neat freak that he is. Only when he’s done and the mug is dripping from the dish rack, he turns around, with his hands firmly holding the edge of the counter, and asks: “Why?”

It’s not like Andrew has been hiding it from Neil, it’s just… Andrew isn’t sure yet, it might be nothing.

Still sitting at the table, still holding his empty mug with both hands, Andrew replies with neutral tone: “I have some suspicions I might have been trafficked into a pedophile ring as a child.”

Neil doesn’t blink and doesn’t breathe for a few seconds. “Wha- whe-”

“Melody said something that made me suspicious. I asked her about it and she said the Moriyamas have an archive full of information of all the people of interest for them. Apparently, Meldoy has read a file about me. A file containing details I have only ever shared with you, or Bee. Or that I haven’t shared at all.”

“But… what- are you sure? There was also stuff on the news, and…”

“What she threw in my face wasn’t on the news,” Andrew interrupts a bit too forcefully and Neil immediately shuts up. Something in his eyes changes, there’s a lot of anger growing in them, and Andrew knows it’s not intended for him. He hopes it’s not intended for Melody either. 

“She just wanted to rile me up. She has tried to push all the buttons she can reach. That’s all. I didn’t react, and she’s calmed down since.”

“What did she say? I mean- you don’t have to tell me, but…”

“She called me AJ. Among other stuff.”

Neil is almost about to repeat that name before realizing it’s a bad idea. He stops to think it over for a moment. “As in… Andrew Joseph? That’s a terrible nickname.”

“It’s how Drake used to call me.” It’s amazing how easy it is for those words to leave his lips. “The only people knowing this were me and the Spear family. And I don’t think Richard Spear has anything to do with the Japanese mafia. Drake, though? I always thought it was odd how fast Riko found him. And how would Riko know Drake was the person to turn to when he wanted to destroy me? There’s just… so many bits that fall into place if the bastards that abused me were part of something bigger.”

“But-” Neil is still holding the counter, like he needs it to hold himself up. “Is this worse? Is it better?”

“It’s… less chaotic, I think. I mean- it’s morbid to think that there might have been a foster care worker intentionally taking me from pedophile to pedophile, but… the alternative is even worse. As humans we are bound to look for reasons. Logically, I know it might have all just happened by chance, the chaos of the universe gifting me a bad hand at life, but the deepest parts of my brain need to have a reason. And if there was no grander plan from some evil mastermind, then… the only common denominator in all of these events is me. There’s always going to be a tiny part of me that will think I did something to deserve it.”

That’s a lot of trauma dumping for 7 in the morning. Andrew should have saved this stuff for the 3pm appointment.

But Neil can take it. It’s such a comforting, warm thought. That’s why talking with Neil has always been easy from the start. He doesn’t flinch at the ugliness in Andrew’s story. Andrew doesn’t feel the need to put the gag back on when he’s around Neil.

Neil is taking all of this in one of his stoic silences. When he comes back to the table, he drops on the chair with a weird look in his eyes. “I’ve given more than two million dollars to these people.”

Well, yes. Neil, Kevin and Jean had given up a good chunk of their earnings to the Moriyamas for many years now. Neil had never really seemed bothered by it, but now that he was contemplating the possibility of what that money had been used for, he looked… guilty.

“Don’t think about it, now. We don’t even know if it’s true.”

Neil is still looking into the distance, his expression closed off. “You didn’t deserve it, by the way. No matter what the folder says.”

Those blue eyes focus on him again, and they smile.

Andrew smiles too. “I know.”

The therapy session is quick and efficient. Bee and Andrew have become experts at dealing with his trauma. They prepare some scripted lines on how Andrew can open the conversation, they decide what he definitely doesn’t want to talk about, how to shut down questions he’s not comfortable with, and how to take Aaron’s emotional response.

Andrew takes the last ten minutes of the session to mourn the chance he never had of telling his family about Drake on his own terms. If Andrew had never gone to Luther’s house that day, it’s most likely that Aaron would still be in the dark about it.

Almost ten years later, Andrew finally feels ready to talk about it. He also has to remind himself why he wants to talk about it. Andrew wants to be known, and the abuse he’s been through is part of who he is. It has shaped his history, his personality and moral compass. It’s a lot of complicated feelings to navigate through, because Andrew is more than what has been done to him, he knows, but he won’t deny that he is the person that has suffered that pain and had the strength to turn it into loyalty and care for other people.

The rest of the day, Andrew doesn’t feel restless.

It’s odd. A big change is coming up, but he doesn’t feel like it’s a train running at full speed towards his face. It’s a controlled disaster, like a building demolition.

As soon as therapy is over, Andrew goes to watch the end of the kids’ practice from one of the benches. Funnily enough, Jiro and David are busy with an exercise very similar to the one Andrew and Neil had spied on the night before. Is this Neil’s way of telling Jiro he’s onto him? Or is it just that it seems a really effective exercise for David?

Neil doesn’t ask Andrew to join the goalkeepers or keep an eye on Ray through one of his tantrums.

Andrew is thankful for the space Neil is granting him, but he doesn’t really think it’s necessary. He feels fine.

Dinner goes as always. Melody eats isolated from everyone, Judie speaks over any other voice, constituting 80% of the noise in the cafeteria, David needs to be reminded to eat every five minutes, Ray and Cedric eat like they’ve never seen food before. Then there’s Sadie, fighting off sleep and failing, Jiro who tries to eat in peace while Theo is a bit too close for comfort. Harry is good at keeping the peace among her teammates, redirecting discourse as soon as it gets too hostile, trying to include the most closed off kids and politely cutting Judie to give space for some other kid to talk.

Andrew is starting to love this routine. It feels comfortable.

Even Neil complaining under his breath about how Harry should be his captain feels familiar.

“She can keep everyone in line. On a good day even Ray listens to her. Melody’s the only outlier but I don’t expect miracles from Harry.”

Andrew munches on his bread while looking at the blue ribboned lady. He wonders what her life had been like before coming to the Eyrie Court, and what it will look like in the future. What kind of woman could she become? It’s a daunting thought, in a way, because Andrew realizes he might have a good chunk of responsibility on how she turns out.

Hopefully he won’t screw up too badly.

“OOK!” Neil claps his hands and uses the table as leverage to get up. “RAY, stop throwing the bread! Everyone up, go brush your teeth. David, I’ll give you ten more minutes, finish your rice. Melody, you’re part of this team too, I said teeth!”

Neil is a very loud couch. Andrew would have never guessed it, but it makes sense, there’s a lot of Wymack in Coach Josten.

Deep at night, Andrew wakes up with Neil gently shaking him.

“It’s Cedric,” Neil whispers.

Andrew needs a few seconds to put those words together and realize there’s a soft sound coming from outside the door. It’s some gentle crying mixed with timid knocking.

Andrew is immediately up; he walks barefoot to the door and opens it with a thundering heart. Cedric’s face is covered in tears but he’s sobbing in sighs, one of his hands is clutching his pants, dampened with tonight’s accident.

He came to us. He was scared and upset and he came to us.

Andrew is trembling. He feels so unworthy of this trust. “It’s ok, it’s ok. Let’s get you changed.”

He almost strokes Cedric’s hair, but he stops short of it.

Andrew looks back and sees Neil working to get up, “I’ll get you some clean clothes for him.”

Andrew nods and offers Cedric his sleeve. They walk slowly and quietly to the bathroom.

While they wait for Neil, Andrew stops at the sinks and drops on his knees in front of the boy.

“You did good coming to us when you were upset,” Andrew is not sure he should say this, but he wants to make sure Cedric knows.

He turns on the faucet and wets his hands with warm water to gently clean the boy’s cheeks.

Neil comes in shortly after with too many pairs of pants because he wasn’t sure which one was right. It’s almost adorable how awkward he is.

While Cedric disappears in one of the shower stalls, Neil panics.

“I’m telling you this is good,” Andrew reassures him. “It looks like it’s getting worse because he’s starting to understand that he’s safe. He’s free to have a breakdown now that he knows no one is out to get him.”

“Ok but WHAT do we do about the breakdown?”

Andrew doesn’t have time to put an answer together. Cedric leaves the shower stall with his new clothes and dry cheeks, staring down at his feet. He looks mortified.

Andrew puts his sleeve forward and the kid takes it without looking up. “We are out of ice cream. We could have cereal, if you want.”

Cedric shakes his head, slowly.

“Do you want to go back to bed?”

In response, Cedric sobs and tears start falling again.

“Hey, hey, you don’t have to. I didn’t mean that like… you have to go back to bed if you don’t want cereal. We could take a stroll. Do you want to go for a walk around the stadium?”

Cedric grabs Andrew’s sleeve with his other hand as well, and bends to hide his face in his own arms. He can’t hide how hard he’s crying though.

“What can I do?” Neil starts moving forward, then he goes back again. When Andrew doesn’t answer fast enough, Neil addresses the boy directly: “Cedric, what do you need?”

Did he forget the boy doesn’t fucking speak?

“Cedric, you’re safe,” Neil tries again from the edge of the bathroom. “We’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt you.”

Andrew almost chuckles. It’s such an over-the-top statement, but it’s also a hundred percent true. Andrew wonders how much comfort eight-year-old Neil would have gotten from that promise. Eight-year-old Andrew would have never believed it.

Cedric moves to free his face and to look at Neil. He is taking deep breaths, trying to calm down.

“We’ll walk a little and get some fresh air, it’s going to do you good,” Andrew doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, but he knows he can’t let the kid know that. He needs to be an anchor of safety.

The boy follows after Andrew when he starts walking out of the bathroom.

“I’m just gonna grab a few things.” He takes a detour for their apartment, puts his shoes on and throws some essentials in a bag: snacks, water, his phone, a notebook and a pen.

When they enter the hallway again, they spot Jiro tiptoeing to the exit, staring at them like a deer in headlights.

For fuck’s sake.

“I need to pee.”

“A likely story,” Neil replies, arms crossed over his chest.

Andrew doesn’t have time for this. Neil gestures for him to go forward and Andrew nods in thanks.

Man and boy walk down the dark stadium, over the secured door and down the cafeteria hallway.

Cedric is following quietly, with his tiny fingers clutching Andrew’s sleeve. Is he scared of the dark? Most kids are scared of the dark, right?

Cedric doesn’t look scared though. As they go down the stairs, illuminated only by the emergency signs, the boy looks calmer and calmer.

The dark had never felt scary to Andrew. It was true that anything could lurk in the dark, but most horrors had come to him in broad daylight.

“Let’s go to the outside court.”

It doesn’t take them long. The hot and arid air of the desert has been exchanged for cold and windy.

Two of the headlights of the stadium are always on at night, shining a white light on the track field and the gazebo.

“Too cold?” Andrew asks.

The boy shakes his head, he’s transfixed by the scenery of white lights and the deep darkness beyond.

“Let’s go sit down for a second.”

Cedric follows. A howl echoes in the distance, perhaps a lone coyote.

When they reach the gazebo, Andrew takes the first seat on the wooden bench, and pats the seat next to him to invite Cedric.

It doesn’t take long, the boy still follows.

Andrew starts unpacking his small bag, he takes out the water bottle and the snacks. Cedric just waits for one to be pushed his way to grab it and tear the plastic open.

Andrew lets him eat in peace. In the meantime, he takes out the notebook and the pen.

Cedric looks much more energetic now, he’s no longer hunched on himself and he’s slowly swinging his legs.

“I know talking is hard,” Andrew starts. He’s been having this speech prepared for days. “I used to be very quiet as well, when I was your age. I want you to know that you don’t ever have to talk, if you don’t want to talk. But we still need to communicate with each other, right? To understand each other.”

Cedric nods, staring intensely at the water bottle.

“Do you want some water?”

The kid looks away from the bottle, like he’s been caught doing something shameful. His eyes dart fast from place to place, until they land on his feet. He makes the tiniest nod.

Andrew doesn’t comment any of that. He takes the bottle, unscrews the cap and offers it to the child.

Cedric doesn’t take it for a long time. Andrew is in no rush, he takes his eyes off the kid and admires the dark desert, until Cedric is comfortable again.

The water gets drank, the cap gets screwed, and Andrew goes back to his initial speech: “That button that Doctor Aaron gave you, do you still have it?”

Cedric nods.

“Do you think it might help you keeping it with you? In your pocket maybe? For when you feel like it’s hard to speak or nod?”

The boy thinks about it and ends up with a vague shoulder shrug.

“Well, we could try for a time, and if it doesn’t help you, we can try something else.”

Andrew pushes the opened notebook towards the kid. “This can also help. I can buy you a smaller one, that can fit in your pocket. You could try to communicate in writing, what do you think?”

Andrew offers the pen, trying not to make it into an order.

This decision also takes time, but when Cedric makes up his mind, he looks sure.

Ok

It’s the first thing Cedric writes. His handwriting looks neat and precise.

Andrew is ready for the next part of his speech, the one that might not go down very well.

“I know you’re having nightmares. You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to tell me, but I want you to know that talking about things that scare us can make us a lot less scared. So, knowing all of this, can you tell me what are your dreams about?”

Cedric wiggles on the bench, like he would like to get up and leave. After a while, he puts the tip of the pen to the paper and writes: I am not sure.

That could very much be the truth.

“Doctor Aaron found burning marks on your skin. I know someone hurt you. Maybe this is what you’re dreaming of? You don’t have to tell me what happened, you can just give me their names. Give me their names and I’ll make them disappear.”

The pen and the hand holding it go hide under the table. Cedric’s head is lowered on the notebook. His eyes are staring unblinking.

Andrew waits for the kid to recuperate again, but this time it doesn’t happen. Andrew has gone too far too fast. He needs to backtrack quickly.

“How about… we go one question each? Is there something you’d like to ask me?”

Not only is there something he’d like to ask, the kid doesn’t even need time to think about it.

Why did you not speak when you were my age?

“Because…” Andrew is taken aback for a moment, he’s not sure how or if he should answer, but he knows he won’t ever lie to these kids. “I was very scared. The adults that were supposed to take care of me were hurting me. I didn’t have anyone who would listen to what I had to say, and those few times I did speak, my words were used against me. It made me feel like talking was dangerous.”

Cedric nods, like he perfectly understands. His free hand travels down the bench until it finds its sleeve to clutch, while the other hand turns to a fresh page and scribbles down again.

Andrew bends to read the next line: what happened to Coach Josten?

Right. Cedric had seen Neil’s scars.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask him that. It’s his story to tell, not mine.”

The boy crosses out his last question and quickly writes the next one. Andrew doesn’t complain that it’s not his turn to ask. He’s just happy the kid wants to communicate, and probably has been wanting to communicate for a while.

But the next question leaves him with a sour taste in his mouth.

What happened to you?

Andrew had a whole fucking therapy session about it today. He knows how to say it. He’s ready.

He’s not ready. The words are stuck.

How fucking delusional had he been asking this eight-year-old to do something that a grown adult like Andrew still finds so hard after years and years of therapy?

“It’s… it’s complicated.” It’s really not.

Andrew breathes. He remembers his boundaries, the part of his experience that stands firmly in the no-sharing basket, and then the parts that can be communicated.

“I was in the foster system.” Andrew doesn’t bother explaining what that means. Cedric papers were singed by a legal tutor, the child already knows what Andrew’s talking about. “I went through many houses, and in some of them I was hurt. Some of the people that were supposed to take care of me came to my bed late at night, to touch me. It made me feel uncomfortable, and sometimes it would be painful. It didn’t leave scars on my body, but it still hurt me deeply. It made me feel scared and… lonely.”

Cedric is staring intently into the darkness. The coyote howls again. Someone in the distance answers to his call.

Cedric lets go of Andrew’s sleeve and takes his hand.

Chapter Text

From the outside, Aaron and Katelyn’s house looks like a commercial from the 50s, except they don’t have a Labrador or a kid, just well-tended grass and sparkling windows, in the kind of suburban neighborhood where you expect to smell barbecue every Sunday.

Andrew is feeling well. He’s got his armbands on and a black shirt with long sleeves. He doesn’t necessarily feel the need for the extra protection, but he knows he might be grateful for the precaution later.

Leaving his car parked in the driveway, just outside the garage, Andrew makes his way to the front door, where he rings the doorbell, silently rolling his eyes at the title Doctor in front of the name Minyard and the name Mackenzie.

“Oh, my God, you actually know where I live,” Aaron greets him with his lovely attitude.

Andrew has been to this place twice already. It’s rather Aaron that never comes to visit.

“Be my guest, brother.”

Andrew actually likes this house. It’s everything that Aaron’s place with Tilda hadn’t been: colorful, tidy, clean, specious. Andrew appreciates the not-give-a-fuck vibe of the green carpet combined with the awful yellow couch.

“You still have no idea what taste is, I see,” Andrew says as he gazes at the pink colored glass table, and the big white binder at the center of it. It feels like that thing is pulsing like a beating heart. Andrew’s past is contained withing those two thin layers of cardboard.

Aaron doesn’t bother defending himself, most likely because he finds the table hideous like any other sensible human being with eyes, but his lovely half has put it there, and so there it shall remain.

“Can I get you anything? Coffee? I’ve got warm cocoa if you want.”

Andrew almost smiles at that. Almost. It still feels like it’s something he needs to guard around people that aren’t Neil.

“Cocoa, yes.”

Aaron disappears into the kitchen and Andrew picks the chair around the table that will put his back to the wall.

First thing he needs to do is find a possible retreat in case he needs a break. The bathroom is down the hallway, a good option, but kind of far. There’s a glass sliding door that from the dining room leads to the garden. It’s just a few steps away from Andrew’s chair. Good. He will go that way if he feels like punching someone.

“Actually!” Aaron appears from the doorway holding Katelyn by the arm, like he had to drag her to come this way. “We are out of sugar; I’m just going to buy some real quick. Be right back! You two catch up while I’m gone!”

Andrew’s eyes follow his traitorous brother out of the room, until he goes round the corner.

You two catch up.

Was that supposed to be a joke?

Katelyn is standing still in the doorway, arms crossed, gaze lost above Andrew’s head like he doesn’t even exist.

Good. If she wants to keep on playing the quiet game, good for her. Andrew will admire his nails until Aaron is back.

About three minutes later, the scratching of a chair against the parquet gets his attention. Katelyn drops on the spot in front of Andrew and keeps on staring into the distance.

Andrew admires the garden from the sliding door.

What a beautiful morning.

Katelyn clears her throat.

“Sore throat?”

The cheerleader drops her gaze directly into Andew’s eyes. She glares but doesn’t open her mouth.

Andrew waits. He can feel his annoyance grow. This bitch will never just give up, will she?

The second time she clears her throat, Andrew bursts out: “You’re allowed to speak, you know?”

“Oh, am I? That’s not what you said last time.”

That’s the first thing she has said to him since that day at the library. The first words in nine and a half years. Andrew really wants to slap her. She and Aaron are fucking made for each other.

“That was in fucking collage. Would you let it go, already?” Andrew closes his hand into a fist and hides it under the table.

“Maybe,” Katelyn says. “If it’s for Aaron’s sake. Certainly not because you apologized for how you treated me, cause that never happened.”

And how would you guess, it will keep on not happening.

They both retreat to their silent war for the following two minutes, until she has enough.

“Aaron wants to really have you in his life, meaning seeing you more than once a year for Christmas.”

“I am aware.”

“You are? And do you care?”

Andrew doesn’t accept the bait. He doesn’t need to prove anything to this woman. Aaron already knows he cares.

“Because judging by how you’re acting right now,” she continues, “it doesn’t really look like you care.”

“I couldn’t care less about what you think.”

Katelyn puts an elbow on the table and rests her chin on the back of her hand. “You see, the problem is that Aaron cares about what I think.”

There. Andrew has always known it would come down to this. He has no answer. No power against her.

She glares at his silence. “We need to make some things very clear. I will not be threatened and disrespected in my own house.”

“I have no intention of threatening you,” Andrew says. “Like you are threatening me.”

“I’m not threatening you.”

“You are implying that you will take Aaron away from me. Unless I abide by your rules.”

She shakes her head, looking almost saddened by his dullness. “Aaron is not a puppet on strings, I don’t control him. But we are married. If you really want to be a part of his life, you will soon discover that I am there for a lot of it. So you can either learn to get along with me, or you’ll have to cut your own space in his life, when I’m not there.”

She is so certain of her importance in Aaron’s life, it’s annoying Andrew beyond the telling, especially because he knows he can’t afford to compete with this bitch for Aaron’s attention. Andrew would not come out of that fight as the winner.

After some silent consideration, Andrew tries a neutral strategy. “I’m not trying to antagonize you.”

Katelyn’s mouth twists in anger. “You will never apologize, will you?”

No need to think about it. “No.”

“Why?”

Silence. Andrew could try to explain… but what would even be the point? She wouldn’t understand.

“You don’t even know why you hate me.” There’s almost derision in her voice.

“I know exactly why I hate you.” Andrew doesn’t bother denying it. He hates her. Of course, he hates her. The day Andrew went to the library was the day he gave up on his brother, the day he picked Neil over Aaron. Andrew can still remember the terror that had accompanied each step, how fiercely his brain was trying to convince him that he was making the wrong choice, that he was going to end up with nothing. A fistful of dust.  

Back then, Neil had still felt like a dream. Andrew had bet everything on a hallucination, and gave up on the very real, very unhappy relationship with the brother who had asked after him, all those years back.

Your brother wants to know you. He left me his address and asked me to give it to you. You should write him a letter.

The cheerleader had been the final proof. The brother who had yearned for a connection was gone. Aaron didn’t need Andrew. He didn’t need to be saved from a monster anymore.

Andrew had waited, and waited, to spot signs of how wicked and twisted Aaron and Katelyn’s relationship was, so that Andrew could save his brother again.

But no wickedness was revealed.

As Andrew had walked up the steps of the library, he admitted the truth to himself: Katelyn made Aaron happy.

And Andrew hated her for it.

“I wanted to be the one to give him a good life. I was working so hard to be better, to be decent, so that I could… make Aaron and Nicky happy. But then you came and you took that away from me. With your stupid smiles, your easy laughs… His love for you is uncomplicated. You didn’t kill his mother, you were never so out of it that you threatened to hurt him. I have done that, and I know we can’t recover from that, there will always be a wound between us. You and him, though? You will lovingly hold each other’s hand until you’ll die of old age together, surrounded by a flock of tiny blonde grandchildren.”

That wave of sadden, uncensored honesty leaves Katelyn stunned.

But not for long. “So, you hate me because you’re jealous.”

Her face is so slappable. “I also really don’t like you on a personal level. Your temperament is unattractive, you could bore me to death when you open your mouth, and your sense of aesthetic is disgusting.”

Instead of taking offence, she lets out a crystalline laugh. Her cheeks are rosy with cheerfulness. Andrew can see why it’s easy for Aaron to love her.

“The wound between you two is not a permanent scar,” Katelyn says, turning serious again. “And our relationship is not as perfect as you think. I would have been the one to kill his mother if you hadn’t, by the way, and he knows that. He still loves me.”

There is no hint of sarcasm in that statement.

It leaves Andrew feeling lost for a moment, like the world is slowly tilting and he’s the only one who can feel that.

There is something about Katelyn that Andrew likes, after all. “Most people are slightly put off by the fact that I committed first-degree murder.”

“Most people don’t know what that woman has done to him. And I’m not just talking about the beatings…” Her eyes get lost above Andrew’s head, remembering. “She was awful all around.”

The sound of keys turning a lock freezes the conversation. It had been about twenty minutes since Aaron left, but considering the expression he wears when he walks into the dining room, it might have been three hours.

The anxiety in his eyes slowly melts away, uncertain, as he looks from his wife to his brother, sitting in front of each other, and not a drop of blood in sight.

“Are you… really talking to each other?”

Katelyn smiles. It comes naturally to her. “We might actually have something in common. But he thinks my sense of aesthetic is disgusting.”

“Well, that is clearly untrue, my love.” Aaron is not the greatest liar. His cheeks turn red when he tries to defend the crime against humanity that is the rose-gold marble wallpaper that his wife has picked for the dining room.

Katelyn rises from her chair and goes to meet her husband. She cups his face and kisses him like no one is watching.

Someone is watching though, and the spectator is almost throwing up in his mouth at this uncensored display of heterosexual love.

“I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” she says softly, and Aaron watches her go like he still can’t believe she’s real. Like he still hasn’t become accustomed to being loved, and it’s a new surprise every day.

Andrew knows how that feels.

“Was the kiss truly necessary? I need to bleach my eyes.”

The spell breaks, and Aaron is back to his usual scoffing self. “Shut up. I’ve seen way worse.”

“That’s because you can’t seem to learn how to knock on closed doors.”

“All I’m saying is that I’ve seen your boyfriend’s naked butt, you can bear a kiss.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Andrew replies automatically, and Aaron continues to the kitchen muttering a soft “whatever.”

Did he actually leave to buy sugar earlier? The clanking sound of metal and the smell of warm cocoa has Andrew feeling weirdly nostalgic.

The white binder is still pulsing at the center of the table. They are going to look inside of it, now. And then Andrew is going to tell his brother that he was raped.

It’s ok, Aaron already knows that, he’ll just learn about those other times, it won’t be a big deal.

Andrew scars are itching. The chair feels uncomfortable. The binder is pulsing.

Andrew looks out the window and breathes slowly. It truly is a beautiful morning. There’s lots of warm light, the grass is green and tall. Andrew is glad to be alive.

What if Aaron doesn’t believe him?

Andrew shakes his head. This is the mark Luther has left on him. It has nothing to do with a realistic worry.

“I put three teaspoons of sugar. I know you drink it with four, but I don’t want any involvement in your developing diabetes.”

A cup is put in front of Andrew’s eyes. He immediately puts his hands on it, and the warmth grounds him into the present.

Aaron doesn’t sit in front of him, like Katelyn did, he sits next to Andrew.

They both sip in silence for a while. Andrew’s heartbeat slows down.

Aaron is not mentioning the binder or the reason why they met. He seems content to let Andrew decide when to address the topic.

“Is that everything?” Andrew is ready. He tips his chin towards the pulsing heart at the center of the table.

“Looks small to me too, but at the office they said that’s all there was.”

The binder is not small by any definition, but maybe, if one considers it should contain the recounting of the first sixteen years of a life, it is minuscule.

“Did you open it?” Andrew asks.

Aaron looks angry for a split second, then his expression softens, like he’s making an intentional effort. “No. You said you would tell me what you could of what’s going on, I didn’t pry.”

The white cardboard pulses like a living thing when Andrew grabs it and drags it close.

His fingers tap on the cover. Andrew counts his breaths. Are they going fast like the taps of his fingers? Fast like the beating of his childhood heart?

Andrew lifts the cover. Three big metal rings are holding an impressive amount of plastic sheet protectors, but it’s not the quantity of the pages that has both Andrew and Aaron freeze in time. It’s the picture.

Under the thin layer of transparent plastic of the first protector, there’s a photo. Its edges are yellowing, the colors are dull, but they are there. Colors, taking the shape of two newborn babies sleeping side to side inside a hospital crib.

So many words go through Andrew’s brain all at once.

They look cute. Which one is me? Who took this picture? Who filed it? Has it always been here? Doesn’t this mean any social service worker that had access to my files would know I had a brother?

“I- wasn’t expecting that,” Aaron mutters. He sounds… moved.

Andrew slips his fingers inside the sheet protector and grabs the photo. “Do you want to keep it?” He asks, offering the picture.

Aaron loses all his brightness, any expression flees from his face, and for a moment he looks completely blank. “You don’t want it.”

It’s not a question. Aaron is asserting how Andrew doesn’t care, he’s reminding himself of this unchangeable truth.

“I want it. But there’s only one picture, and there’s two of us. I’d rather you keep it.”

Slowly, life flows back into Aaron. His face lights up again. “We can make a copy!” He takes the photo with delicate fingers, and places it carefully on the table.

Andrew wants to argue, making a copy could degrade the quality of the original, but after some quick consideration he decides to keep his complains to himself. Aaron would probably misinterpret him again.

Inside the same protector there’s a paper written in a tiny font.

“What’s that?” Aaron asks, stretching his neck and squinting at the text.

“Birth certificate.” Andrew starts to turn the page, but Aaron stops his hand. He pulls the binder closer to himself and bends over the tiny words with the utmost focus, like he’s on a vital mission.

“Oh my God,” there’s actual bewilderment in Aaron’s voice. “Stay here.” He stands from his chair and runs out of the room stomping his feet all the way.

Andrew blinks. He starts reading the text, the name of the hospital, the date of birth, his blood type…

Aaron’s feet announce themselves with loud rumbles. Aaron has a piece of paper in his hand, and there’s a suspiciously happy smile on his face.

“There.” He unfolds the sheet right in front of Andrew’s eyes. “My birth certificate says I was born at 3:12 pm.”

“Congratulations,” Andrew is not following.

Aaron aggressively points at the binder. “You were born at 4:45 pm.”

Ok. Now Andrew is following. “Right. Your advantage of an hour and a half on planet Earth is not really showing.”

Aaron’s smile is too wide for his face. “I need to text Nicky.”

“You do not.”

Aaron disappears again.

Andrew will never hear the end of this. He might actually have to punch someone, it seems.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Dear Lord… Aaron has texted the group chat.

Asshole : Andrew is the little brother. Who owes me money?

Reynolds : PROOF???

Asshole : We have birth certificates. Pay up.

WhinyBaby : OMG ANDREW IS THE LITTLE BROTHER இ ﹏ இ

FemaleBoyd : he does have little brother energy

NotMyBoyfriend: what is little brother energy?

Andrew is bored with the conversation already. Looking at the chat, he realizes he hasn’t changed Neil’s name in a while, so he opens his contacts and quickly fixes it into OneLeggedLegend.

Right then, a text from his OneLeggedLegend appears in the private chat.

Everything alright with Aaron?

Yes. Everything alright with the kids?

Yes.

Aaron returns, cheerful like a toddler on Christmas Eve. He takes his seat again, and he’s still smiling.

Andrew supposes he can bear this nonsense for that.

“Can I share this?” Aaron asks, pointing at the photo on the table.

Andrew shrugs.

There are new notifications soon. Most are from Nicky, who can squeak loud and clear even in text form. And the girls. The girls are losing their minds. Even Renee is acting like she’s never seen a baby before.

Andrew can concede those are very cute babies.

Neil is the only one giving Andrew some satisfaction.

OneLeggedLegend : one of them is ugly

FemaleBody : which one?

OneLeggedLegend : Aaron

WhinyBaby : @OneLeggedLegend they are identical, you buffoon

OneLeggedLegend : no, baby Andrew is cute

Andrew quickly hides the smile that was threatening to come out. Aaron might have spotted it though, because he has never looked this content.

The phones are pocketed soon after, and the twins focus again on the binder.

After turning the first page, Andrew finds a sheet filled with handwritten cursive. The lines are round and soft, and every so often, the words stop to give space to a cute doodle.

Aaron pulls back a little, so that his brother can read the document alone.

Welcome to the world, Andrew!
You probably won’t stay with us for long, but one day you might want to know where your story began, so, as your primary social care worker, I’ve taken upon myself to preserve every detail of the history of your beginning in foster care, until you’ll find your forever family. (I know this is a bit of overdoing, but you are my first case, and I am very excited!)
As soon as the doctors deemed you ready to go home, I took you to the Morris family. They are a lovely couple with three adopted children, and a long history of successful fostering. Miss Lydia Morris was overjoyed when I asked her to put down her thoughts and take lots of pictures for when you will be all grown (she told me we should start doing this for every kid! Ahaha. (I don’t know which one of my bosses reads these reports, but it might be something we could implement?))
While the Morris family takes care of you in these first months of your life, I will take care of the court process to deem you adoptable, and find a couple of loving parents for you as quickly as possible!
In the meantime, enjoy your first days on Earth, my little angel! I am sure you will be awesome!
Leonard Lee

Andrew feels like he’s just been hit very hard on the head. What the hell was that? He doesn’t remember any Leonard, or any male social care worker for the matter.

Aaron is barely holding in the curiosity, so Andrew nudges the binder his way.

“That’s… endearing,” Aaron says.

Andrew hasn’t decided yet what the fuck that is. He turns the page, and he is immediately assaulted with pictures.

Aarons makes a high-pitched sound coming from God knows where. Andrew had been… an incredibly cute baby. He could have made commercials.

Or maybe Lydia Morris was just a very skilled photographer.

Andrew takes them out from the plastic and goes through them one by one.

Miss Morris was a slim, black woman, with strong shoulders and lots of tiny braids. In the first picture, she was holding baby Andrew to the chest with only one arm. Andrew was as big as an overgrown eggplant. He was wrapped in a pink blanket and was wearing a fluffy hat with teddy ears.

Both Aaron and Andrew are speechless. This is not what they had expected to find in the binder.

The second picture is a close up of him sucking on a pacifier with his eyes closed, looking at ease with the world. He must have been just a couple of months old in that picture, and he already had his head full of the blondest curls known to man.

There is a photo of him sleeping while being held by a smiling little girl. A picture where he is holding his foot close to his face, staring at his little toes like they could explain the marvel of the universe. Then, he is lying on his tummy, holding himself up from the elbows, while wearing a ridiculous sailor suit.

Baby Andrew sitting on the carpet, holding a giraffe plushie by the neck, and smiling.

Baby Andrew in a highchair, a bib with “Goldilocks” written on it, mashed potatoes just about everywhere, on his face, on his hands, in his hair. Smiling.

Baby Andrew soaked in a tiny bathtub, staring at his fingers covered in bubbles. Smiling.

Baby Andrew being held by a teenage kid, they’re both looking out the window at the falling snow. Smiling.

There are letters, after the photos.

Report 1
Andrew came to us around Christmas time. It was lovely having him for the holidays for his first month of life. I have seldom seen such an easy child. Andrew sleeps well at night, and for most of the day. He has good appetite; he never turns down a bottle of milk. He likes to be held and to hold my thumb while he sleeps. When he is awake, he looks around at everything with big brown eyes full of curiosity. He likes sparkling lights and listening to Dancing in the Moonlight by King Harvest.
To whoever will become his parents, I am sure you will be most delighted to raise this precious bundle of joy.

Report 2
The court process is taking longer than expected, but in seven years of fostering no process has ever been on time, so we were expecting to enjoy our Andrew for some time longer.
All of my children love him to bits. Kaya, my youngest, is especially attached. Andrew has given her his first ever laugh this morning and I’m sure she will never forget that.
Andrew now likes to listen to Down On The Corner by Creedence Clearwater Revival. I think he will grow up to have good taste in music.

Report 3
Andrew is a gentle child. I fear whenever a child of mine doesn’t cry or hit, because I can already imagine him on the playground keeping quiet when he is pushed in the dust by more aggressive kids. I wish he could stay gentle all his life, but I know that won’t be possible. He’ll have to learn to be fierce, to cry and scream and bite. But for now, while he is safe here with us, he can be allowed to be soft.

Report 4
Andrew said his first word at 10 months old. To the despair of my youngest, the word was not Kaya, it was bubble. Nothing fascinates him quite like bubbles. I’m convinced he will learn to stand and walk only to be able to reach his bubbles.
He now prefers to listen to Jamming by Bob Marley & The Wailers.

Report 5
Andrew is now adoptable. The process took 11 months. I am baffled by how incompetent these people can be. I have tried to teach him to call me Lydia, but he has taken the autonomous decision to call me mom, like every other kid in this house, and I do not want to correct him.
Leonard has brought the first couple of possible adoptive parents to my house yesterday. They tried to pick Andrew up, but he is afraid of strangers now. He cried when that kind girl was holding him, he called for me and tried to squirm away from her, to get to me.
I love this little boy to bits. I have loved every single one of my foster children, but when the connection is right, I am filled with a very special kind of love. It has hit me three times in my life, and it is happening now again, for the fourth time. I am holding him on my knees now as I write these words. He looks at the pen moving on the paper, and then he looks up at me, and smiles. He knows he is my son. I know it too. My husband agrees. My children are all fiercely protective of him.
Leonard said we can start the adoption process immediately and it should not take longer than six months. I adore that kid, he is so full of hope. It will probably be a year or longer. But I don’t care. This child was mine from the moment I decided it was so. Welcome home, Andrew Morris.

Andrew doesn’t want to feel anything because he is feeling too much.

He knows the happiness of this recounting didn’t last, but his mind is making up a story, a possible follow up of something that never was, and it is driving him insane.

“What is that?” Aaron hasn’t read the reports yet, he is still looking at the lovely pictures.

Andrew can’t answer with his words, but he has decided that he wants to be known, so he passes the papers over to his brother, and carefully turns the page to the next chapter of his life.

The sequel is underwhelming. It’s the summary of a medical visit. So is the next page, and the next one.

The next big chunk of paper is the infamous bureaucracy necessary to deem an abandoned baby adoptable.

Then there are drawings. Just nonsense scribbles, but it has all been stored like important pieces of art.

More reports from Leonard from all his visits to the Morris family. They are all filled with his delicate handwriting and smiling doodles.

And then…

The adoption process with the Morris was about to be finalized. I am sure they would have been the perfect family for you, but sadly, they couldn’t go on with the adoption. Miss Morris passed away just days short of your second birthday. Mister Morris has admitted he doesn’t feel capable of taking care of a fourth child right now. He is overwhelmed with grief, and his duty is with the three children he already has.
I asked him to write you a letter, but he told me he would rather not. So I will tell you only what I know, that Mister Morris was crying when he was helping me to gather your things, that he kissed you on the forehead when I took you to my car, and he bid you goodbye saying: “you will be alright”.
And of course, you will.
It is terrible that it didn’t work out with the Morris, but I have a long list of future parents, ready to get to know you! In the meantime, I have taken you to the Whiteford family! They are a lovely family of nine! Yes, you read that right! Nine people all waiting for you! Two parents, two biological sons, one adopted daughter and four foster children. The Whiteford have been fostering for many years, I am sure they will be thrilled to get to know you!
Miss Julie said she probably won’t have time to write down much of her experience, but Mister Noha said he will try to send me as much as he can.
I understand they must be very busy. I know how easily overwhelming it can all get. I started this job with just you almost two years ago, after the first week I was assigned to ten more kids. Now it’s 38. I’m trying to keep track of everything, but I have to be honest, sometimes I stop before ringing the doorbell of a foster home, and I check my notes to remember the name of the child. I feel awful. I know I will never forget your name, Andrew, but what about those other 37 children? Don’t they deserve as much of me as I have given to you?
I feel stretch thin, and if I try to stretch any longer, I might tear.
I know I’m not supposed to fill these reports with personal takes. This is not my diary. My higher-ups could get rightfully angry at me. But in all frankness, my sweet Andrew, I don’t think anyone actually reads these.

Andrew passes the report to Aaron and moves on to the next page. He doesn’t want to stop and think about the family that could have been, about the first woman he has called mom.

I am so frustrated. Most couples come to me, and they say they want a baby. Well. We had a baby, but the court took a ridiculous long time to deem him adoptable, and now the baby is a toddler. He is still a very lovely toddler. And he is blond like an angel. I actually say that. Some future parents care about hair color. They ask about it like they are shopping for a puppy at the animal store.
I had found a couple. I liked them enough, and you did not like them one bit, but you have been difficult since you left the Morris. I understand, they were your family for so long, now it’s hard to adjust to a new one. You’re also entering your terrible twos, it’s normal to get a little fussy.
So. I brought this couple to the Whiteford’s, and you cried non stop the whole time, but they still wanted to keep going and try other meet ups. I thought this was actually it.
But you had a pediatric visit last week, and the doctor said you had an important speech and motor delay. He referred you to an urgent neuropsychiatric visit and it didn’t go well. The specialist diagnosed you with global developmental delay. I had to inform the couple, I tried to explain that it just means that you might need some extra help to reach your milestones, but they didn’t want to hear it. They wanted to go “on to the next one”. I’ve decided I don’t like them, and it’s actually a good thing that they don’t want to adopt you.
Oh, Andrew, I am so scared for you. I can’t see what your future will look like anymore. I want to believe that you will be ok, that you will just take a little longer to learn new things, but I can’t stop thinking about how quiet you were as a baby. Me and Lydia marveled at how easy and gentle you were, but what if we completely misread what was going on? What if you never speak? What if you never learn to read and write? I can’t sleep tonight; I am engulfed with worry. And the worst thing is, I think I am the only person in the world who is worrying about you. The Whitefords are good enough people, but they made it clear they don’t want to adopt a new child, you’re just temporary to them. I feel so awful for writing that but it’s true. They foster so many children in that house, you’re just one of many to them.
This is so wrong.
If only they’d deemed you adoptable earlier, now you’d have real parents to worry about you, not just some useless twenty-year-old pacing up and down his childhood bedroom.
It's all my fault. I was a newbie, I didn’t know how to pester the court to accelerate the bureaucracy. I should have tried harder, but everyone kept telling me you would be an easy placement. White, blond, quiet babies go away like candies here. But now you are a difficult toddler with global developmental delay. It’s all my fault. I am so sorry Andrew. And the worst thing is, I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to read these words.

After that report, there is the pediatric referral to the neuropsychiatrist, and then the diagnosis. Andrew has been diagnosed with many things in his life, but this one is new to him.

Andrew passes Leonard’s report to Aaron, and watches as his brother’s eyebrows furrow deeper and deeper.

“What the fuck is this guy on about? Let me see the assessment.”

Andrew doesn’t even bother trying to decipher the medical terms on the sheet. It goes straight to his doctorated brother.

Aaron’s eyebrows are basically digging a cave on his forehead. “This is bullshit. What kind of charlatan did they call to visit you?”

“What does it say?”

Aaron looks uncertain, like he doesn’t know how to break bad news. “It says you were unresponsive to the offers of toys, that you cried for the entire twenty minutes that the visit lasted, and that you didn’t try to move from where you had been placed.”

Andrew has no energy to feel anything about the hundredth wrong diagnosis.

There is a mess of papers, pictures and drawings on the table now. Andrew takes the trash (doctor visits, drawings, court procedures) and throws them on the far end of the table, then he makes a neat little pile of the pictures and Morris and Leonard’s reports.

Another page gets turned and Leonard’s curved handwriting is starting to feel familiar.

I was at the Whiteford’s neighborhood yesterday. It was for another case, but after I was done with the official business, I thought, why not? I’ll pay the Whitefords a surprise visit. I was supposed to be done with my shift two hours prior, but I knew I hadn’t kept up with the visits like I should have had.
It’s not just you. I have 57 children now. I have no idea how the other social care workers do it. The more I overwork, the more work they give me.
I don’t think I’m actually cut out for this job. One of my children committed suicide last month. I know I’m not supposed to write this here, but if I try to talk about it with a coworker again, they might just roll their eyes at me and tell me to get over it. One of them asked me if it was my first time. Like it’s just a normal occurrence.
It should not be a normal occurrence.
Actually, I don’t want to talk about Charlie.
I was at the Whiteford’s neighborhood yesterday, and so I paid them a surprise visit. When the woman (I can’t remember her name. I’m sorry. I have to deal with so many people) opened the door and saw me there, she lost all color. She told me to wait there, that she was going to come and get you for me, like I could actually be this fucking stupid.
I could hear you crying from the front door. It felt distant, muffled, but it was excruciatingly painful.
I told her I would come with her to get you. She tried to come up with an excuse to block me, so I went around her and followed your screams.
I found you in the freezing basement, in the dark. When I turned the lights on, I find you on a dusty floor, surrounded by junk. There was an awful smell in there. You had nothing on except for a diaper.
She tried to justify it. She said you like it down there, that you stop crying in the dark.
I wanted to kill her. I know for a fact my useless bosses don’t read any reports, but I kind of wish they did now. I wished they knew how close I came to strangle that woman, so that they would deem me unfit, and fire me. I want someone to send me away, because I know I can’t leave by myself, but I don’t think I will be able to hold on for much longer.
I called my superior immediately. And she dared to try to justify what I had seen. I know this woman had been a long-time foster mother, but that’s all the more reason to investigate her house thoroughly.
These are the kind of people we save children from, we don’t take children to them.
I won’t waste time putting into words how much I failed you, I think it’s evident in every possible way.
I picked you up from the floor even if you didn’t want me to, and I’m sorry. I don’t think you remembered me, I don’t know when was the last time I visited and we actually had time to interact with each other.
I was supposed to be your protector, but when I came close to you to save you, you squirmed away from me.
I took you to the bathroom and changed your diaper even if you didn’t want me to, and I’m sorry. I don’t know how long they left you with that thing, the stench was awful, and you had an ugly rash. They didn’t even have some cream to put on it, I tried to wash you with warm water at the sink, but you were so upset I wasn’t very thorough, I tried to be as quickly as possible. I put a clean diaper on you, but I think the rash was hurting you a lot anyway. I thought about how you cried nonstop during the neuropsychiatric visit, and how your speech and motor skills made a turn for the worst since I brought you to the Whitefords. Maybe your delays could be explained by neglect. Maybe I should have fucking thought about it sooner.
All your clothes were amassed in a dirty pile so I found a blanket on the couch and wrapped you in it. You had not stopped crying for a second, but we couldn’t leave that place yet. There were other foster children in that house, and I couldn’t leave them there.
I was not their case worker, so I spent that evening with you crying in my arms, and my phone at my ear, trying to find and contact the colleagues responsible for those other children.
That woman kept trying to talk to me, and you would cry harder whenever she came closer. I think she has hurt you. I am so sorry, honey.
I keep saying that I’m sorry like that means anything. How long were you placed in that house? I don’t remember. I think I brought you there in September, except no, I’m thinking of Nathan. I keep mixing you all up. I can’t do this. I am so sorry. I don’t know how much time of these months you spent alone in the dark. I don’t know if it has caused permanent damage to your development. I’m supposed to know these things and I don’t.
The parents say I am a good social care worker, but I don’t want to be. I want to be shit, so that I can quit. I want to quit so badly. I’m not cut out for this. I have taken kids in my arms that have gone through things I can’t even pronounce. I am too sensitive. I care too much.
I should be like those colleagues I called yesterday. Bored out by the idea of having to collect another kid form another house. One of them even told me it was past his working hours; that he was going to come tomorrow. He had understood the situation perfectly well, he just could not be bothered to get his ass off his couch. I burst into tears, and he said he would come right then. I’m not proud to say that I cried. But I’m so burnt out, and you would not stop screaming, it was constant.
I brought you to my place. I was supposed to find you an emergency placement, but I couldn’t do it. I’m scared I’m going to mess up again, and you’re going to get hurt again.
You fell asleep out of exhaustion in the car. You didn’t wake when I took you inside. You are so impossibly light and tiny. Did they even feed you anything? How could I have been so blind?
I was supposed to wake you to feed you dinner, but I was a coward, I knew you would cry again as soon as you would wake, and I couldn’t bear it. I let you sleep on my bed.
I grabbed the first piece of paper I could find to write this report. I have dwelled on it for more than an hour now. I don’t know how many times I’ve cried.
It's time to wake you for real. I have prepared some sliced ham for dinner. I think I remember you like it. I’m not really sure if it was you. I really hope it was, because that’s all I have in the fridge.

I have slept. A little. I think. It was a rocky night. You were upset when I waked you, but you ate the ham, and some bread.
I still haven’t arranged the emergency placement. I was supposed to do a million things today, I’m following eleven court cases, I should have filled in I don’t know how many documents and replied to I don’t know how many emails.
I called in and said that I was sick. They still asked me to reply to the emails, I said that I would try. I probably won’t. I want to focus only on you today. I want to do one thing right in this goddamn job before I get fired for mishandling your case so badly.
I went through your file and gathered some information. You used to like bubbles a lot. I prepared you a bubble bath before waking you for breakfast. When you opened your eyes, you immediately started your lament, but yesterday’s screams were exchanged for a high-pitched wail. I don’t know if that’s a good thing. Maybe you’re not as scared as before. Maybe you’re too tired to cry properly.
I took you to the bathroom and you were actually interested in the bubbles. I kept you in my arms and we played a bit with the foam. You relaxed a little after that.
I fed you my cereal for breakfast while still keeping you in my arms. I don’t think I can let go again. I did nothing but keep you in my arms all morning. You put your little head on my shoulder and kept it there. Sometimes you slept, and sometimes you cried, and sometimes you were quiet.
You like having your hair stroked. You do not like to hear me sing. But you like to hear me talk softly, and you like to look at traffic from the window.

I am not mentally well. I should not be entrusted with the care of a little boy right now.
It has been two days. I have not arranged the emergency placement yet. No one has contacted me about the Whitefords. I haven’t told anyone where you are.
No one has asked about you.
Charlie was a fifteen-year-old boy. No one had asked after him either. I had spoken to him maybe twice. He had freckles, and that’s all I knew about him.
I am not well. I cry sometimes when I’m holding you, and I know it scares you. I think about Charlie, and I think about you, and I think I’ve turned your report files into my fucking diary because I don’t think you will ever actually read these. Because I don’t really believe you will survive the system. I don’t think its meant to be survived. Andrew, I am so sorry. I want to say that it will get better, but I know it can actually get so much worse.
I should get help before my mental state gets any worse, but I can’t let go of you. I don’t trust anyone, and you cry when I try to put you down.
Please, be alright.
Charlie, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.
When I’ll die there will be no one left to remember Charlie.
Andrew, I need you to find people that will remember about you when you die. I don’t want to remember alone.

It has been a week, no one has asked about you.
You have grown insanely attached to me. This is not me bragging, and this is not remotely good news. You cannot bear to have me away from your sight, you won’t eat unless you are sitting on my knees, you won’t sleep unless I’m hugging you tight.
You scream like an eagle every time I have to go to the bathroom.
How could I let you trust me when I know I can’t keep you? I will be just another severed connection to you.
The foster system makes no sense. We learn that children need stability and then we swing them from family to family. A foster kid can go through grieving his parents twenty different times during his childhood. How is that not supposed to fuck up a person?
Andrew, I can’t keep you. I’m not a father, I am barely a man. And I am not well.
I am holding you close to my chest as I’m writing this. I don’t know if I have the right to say that I love you, but I know I do.
I am going to call my superior now, and tell her that you are with me. She will fire me, she will come to collect you, and you will be very scared. I think you’ll be very scared for a long time, honey. But you will find the people that you’re looking for. The ones that will stay. Because I’m sure me and Lydia weren’t wrong about you, you were born a gentle child, and you’ll grow up to be a good person.
Two days ago, you saw an ant strolling on my window frame. I put it on your hand, and you watched it move up and down your fingers for a long time. When it was time for dinner, I asked you to put it down, and you gently let it go on the ground.
You have a wonderful heart, and I have to believe nothing would be able to change that.
I am going to make the call now.

Chapter Text

Aaron is not speaking, and Andrew is grateful for the silence. His mind is occupied imagining a world of what ifs.

What if Lydia Morris hadn’t died? What if her husband had decided to keep Andrew? What if Leonard had not given up on him?

So many crossroads in his life, where fate could have decided to turn in his favor.

The what ifs game is an old, mean trick Andrew’s psyche plays on him. Andrew doesn’t regret, and he doesn’t forgive, but he does spend some time imagining. What if…

But for how nice and well paved the road could have been for him, Andrew knows that he would have lost the life he has now. There would have been no Neil, no Aaron, no Nicky, no Kevin, no Renee, and no Exy.

Andrew passes the last report to his brother and starts making order of the rest, adding them to the pile of pictures.

He then turns to the next page, looking for any clue of what Leonard’s destiny might have been, but there’s no mention of him. There is no careful handwritten letter, just a standardized form about Andrew’s next placement. The house had belonged to the Baileys. Andrew doesn’t remember this family of four, nor does he recall Lucy Stern, the person who signed the paper in the vest of Andrew’s new case worker.

“Are you ok?” Aaron asks.

Andrew ignores the question. There’s worse to be uncovered, Andrew can’t let the words of a man who had wanted him safe to distract him from today’s mission.

There’s no reports from the Baileys, no pictures, and no drawings. According to this paper, Andrew had stayed with them for a year and a half.

There are new medical reports. Andrew ignores most of them, but Aaron sucks them up with hungry eyes. At times, he makes a low sound with his throat, like a growl of displeasure.

After the Baileys, Andrew was given to the Chung family. This is when some of Andrew’s memories can fill up the spaces left in the story told by the binder. Andrew has no recollection of the Chung couple’s faces, but he remembers what the flowery print of the cardboard box under their bed had looked like.

Andrew used to hide down there a lot, thinking that if he kept disappearing, someone would come looking for him. Eventually.

He had remained in that house until his fourth birthday, and what that experience had left him was a deep sense of loneliness. More than anything, Andrew remembers that time as absence of human contact.

Little Andrew could have hidden for days at a time under that bed, and no one would have bothered to notice.

During the time with the Chungs, Andrew had grown more and more troublesome. In his attempt to be seen, he had learned to scream, and break, and push.

Medical reports had become creative. This little toddler’s issues now varied from severe speech impediment, to eating disorders, to social skills delay.

After the hundredth summary of Andrew’s shortcomings, a new name started to sign the papers: Judy Carol.

Andrew remembers her. She was old and bored with life. She appeared in Andrew’s life maybe five or six times.

The first time was to take him to Natalie Roth, a woman in her thirties, single, with no interest in taking care of children.

He stayed at her house for no longer than a few weeks, but it had been enough time for her to freeze Andrew under the cooling spray of the shower, and to then boil his skin with the hottest water available.

Andrew passes the paper with Roth’s name on it to Aaron. That sterile form is not enough to convey to his brother what had happened. Andrew knows that if he wants Aaron to understand, he has to speak.

Why is it so hard?

She trapped me in the shower. I screamed and kicked and cried, but I was four, and she was an adult. I could not get free.

Andrew turns the page. The silence feels heavy.

He can’t say it.

Not yet. Maybe one day. He has prepared to reveal something else, today. That’s the goal he has to focus on.

The next house is the Harpers, a childless couple of heavy-handed assholes who had had way too many foster kids under their belt.

Andrew had stayed with them for something short of three months, so he doesn’t expect to find anything interesting about this placement. He turns the page, ready to read the next name, but something else is waiting for him.

A little girl is flashing a grin his way. Andrew instantly recognizes her, Mya Duran. She had been placed with the Harpers at the same time as Andrew, the two of them had instantly become the menace of the house.

In the picture, she has long, black hair, a dirty jumper that’s too big for her, and a lazy eye.

In the brief time they had known each other, she had been nice to Andrew. She’d said that she couldn’t get adopted, because her eye made her ugly, but Andrew was pretty, so he didn’t need to worry, he was going to find his family soon.

When they hadn’t been busy trashing the house, they had hidden in the garden together, to play family like normal kids do. She always wanted to be the mom, and Andrew was never sure. Sometimes he’d play the dad, sometimes the baby. Most of the time, he’d be the dog.

There is a small tag on the top left corner of the photo with the date in which the picture had been sent to the foster care office to be filed in his binder. Andrew had been nineteen when the photo had been sent.

He had known her for a very short time, but what a nice memory she was.

Andrew opens the plastic of the sheet protector and grabs the picture. He’s about to add it to the pile of the important things, when he glimpses a flash of the back of the photo. He turns it around to read the brief sentence branded on the back.

“Thank you for being my friend.”

“A childhood friend?” Aaron asks, peeking with ill-concealed curiosity.

Andrew delicately places the photo on top of the important pile. “She was my foster sister for three months. She taught me how to throw lighters to make them explode, and how to braid her hair.”

This crumb of information makes Aaron embarrassingly happy. “You should reach out to her.”

Maybe he should. He’d like to know if her story had had a happy ending.

The next page is a note of expulsion from kindergarten.

That’s…

Ok. That’s kind of funny. Andrew didn’t even know you could get expelled from kindergarten, and the note is also overly dramatic, to the point of being hilarious.

“Andrew has no respect for the rules, his peers or his teachers. We have advised his social worker multiple times that the boy needs serious intervention as soon as possible. At four years old, Andrew is incapable of sustaining any stressor. Any little problem sends him into a rage fit, while a stern talk down will have him tremble in paralyzing fear. We are aware of the abuse he has suffered in a previous foster family, but there might be more than his upbringing at play here. Andrew is still not adequately potty trained. His speech is nearly unintelligible. When we can successfully interest him in play, it’s always simple motor play, far beneath the kind he should engage in at his age.
Last Friday, Andrew was pushed on the playground by another child who was immediately scolded and removed from the game by the nearby teacher. Andrew didn’t react at first, remaining motionless on the ground until the other child was far, but at lunch, Andrew left his seat with his plate, and smashed it on the other boy’s head.
This note of expulsion is not to be interpreted as punishment, but as a needed wake up call for the social workers who are taking care of his case.
We have recently been informed that Andrew had received a diagnosis attesting to his delays in the past, but that it hadn’t been followed up by any particular treatment.
It is essential that the boy commences treatment as soon as possible. I cannot stress enough how critical the situation is. If we don’t intervene now, we might condemn this boy to a life of psychiatric disorders and prison time.”

Aaron doesn’t seem to be finding it as hilarious as Andrew does, though. He probably won’t find very humors the next paper either. The famous neuropsychiatric follow up requested by the kindergarten staff.

Well, this doctor had stated to Andrew immaculate well-being. Andrew was a peach of a boy, he was a little restless, yes, but he was a foster child, and that was how those children were. Andrew did have some speech impediment, yes. The doctor recommended some sessions of speech therapy, and then he’ll be all fixed.

As expected, Aaron doesn’t find the doctor’s report even a little bit funny. He needs to stand up and walk around the room for a while, silently fuming and cursing under his breath.

Andrew keeps going. He browses through the next pages: the Walton family had kept Andrew until he had been five. Then, the Cooleys, who had liked to lock Andrew out when it was raining so that he would finally learn some respect.

The reports attesting to his slow descend into a life of crime don’t decrease.

With the Cooleys, he attended First Grade. The teacher’s note didn’t wait to pile up. Among the many calling out Andrew’s unruly behavior, there was one outlier. Miss Osman was a name Andrew remembered. He had never known she had written up to the foster system on his behalf.

“Anderw Doe is remarkably bright for his age, and he likes to show it despite his slight lisp.
On the first day of school, I found out that he already knew his letters very well. I was rightfully admired, and he seemed so hungry for that regard, that in time I have made him my little helper.
Andrew doesn’t interact with his peers; he actively avoids them. It saddens me to see him hiding away in a corner while the other children play during recess.
The only exception occurs when the kindergarten classes come out to play in the yard. Andrew doesn’t really play with the younger children either, but he likes to look at them, and he likes to run ahead when they fall to pick them up.
I write this letter as I am worried about the foster family that is currently taking care of him. They refer to him as “retarded” and “a cross to bear”. The foster mother has merrily admitted to me that they withhold food as punishment.
I think Andrew would be better off with a family that appreciates his strengths, rather than belittling him at every chance.”

Miss Osman had been so kind to Andrew, that at some point he had believed she was making fun of him, and he was just too stupid to understand.

But apparently not. Apparently, she had just been nice for no other reason than being a nice teacher.

Andrew gently places her note on top of the important pile and turns the page.

A new form, a new family and a new case worker.

Andrew swallows, takes a breath.

The family was called Hill. Andrew had been placed in that house since he had been seven and a half, until he had been eight. The new case worker was called Miss Haddon.

Andrew remembers her. She was the last one, the one that had taken him from the Cooleys to the Hills, and then to the Garcías, to the Johnsons, to the Spears.

Andrew is staring at the name. Hill. The address. He remembers the red door of that house.

Jesse is not mentioned anywhere.

Andrew slips the form out of the protective sheet and places it on an empty spot on the table, next to the important pile, but distant enough that they couldn’t touch, couldn’t be confused for one another.

Aaron watches this but doesn’t comment the change.

Andrew keeps going. Miss Haddon had not bothered to file much. About the year Andrew had spent at the Hills, there was just a couple of school reports with his grades.

And then, Garcìa.

Andrew swallows, breathes.

No mention of Steven. No mention of anything. It was like Andrew had not been truly alive in those years.

This form gets placed next to the other. They are starting to form a line.

The next one to be added is the form from the Johnsons family.

Andrew knows what comes next. He turns the page.

Spear.

Aaron’s reaction is not subtle. He winces, as if he had been stung.

Andrew takes this paper out too and puts it on the last spot.

After this there will only be the recounting of his arrest, his time in prison, Tilda, and finally Nicky, who had cared to put an end to this agony.

Andrew has no interest in going forward. He closes the binder and lets it fall on the floor.

In front of him there’s a row of memories.

A big tower made of everyone important, anyone that had cared and had tried. Andrew looks at it and sees how massive it is compared to the four pathetic papers slouching next to it.

Look at it. You tried to destroy me and look how little you matter.

Aaron is quiet. He knows Andrew is about to do something and he understands his brother enough to know he needs time and quiet.

Andrew is ready. He feels calm.

Keeping his eyes on the table, Andrew points his finger at the name in the first form.

Hill family. “Here is where I was raped for the first time.”

He doesn’t pause for a reaction. He points at the next name.

Garcìa. “This was the second.”

Johnsons “The third.”

Spear. “The fourth.”

There. It’s out.

Andrew looks up at his brother. Aaron is staring at the forms. His mouth starts moving slightly, but no sound comes out.

Andrew allows him a moment to gather his thoughts, until he notices that his brother is not taking in any air.

“Breathe.”

Aaron does more than that. He pushes against the table, the chair screeches horribly. “No… no,” Aaron mumbles. “That was the Spears. It was Drake Spear.”

A wave of rage and panic goes through Andrew in an instant. Aaron doesn’t believe him. They are never going to recover from that. Andrew will never, ever forgive him for that.

“Why would I lie?”

Aaron gapes, his eyebrows are pulled in something like disgust, or horror. “I’m not saying… I know! I wasn’t saying… I-” His eyes are getting glossy. And just when Andrew thinks he can’t look at them anymore, Aaron drops his face in his hands. He makes a sound, a pathetic whine. He looks up again and stares at the papers.

There is nothing there that could help Aaron picture what had happened, but just having Andrew’s age spelled out is enough to make his insides twist.

Seven. Eight. Nine. Twelve.

Aaron is probably imagining it. What Andrew at seven might have looked like. How he might have looked like pressed on the bed, big hands holding him down.

Andrew needs to breathe, and there’s no air in there. The choked out whimpers Aaron is letting out are driving Andrew insane. He needs a way out.

The garden.

Just as he stands, Aaron jumps out of his chair, grabs it from the backrest and screams as he throws the thing to the other side of the room. He covers his mouth with one hand. He’s crying.

Andrew can’t look at that.

Quick steps are stomping from above, and down the stairs. Katelyn rushes inside the room, looking worried. “What was t-” 

“GO AWAY!” Aaron screams.

Katelyn stops and gapes at him with utter confusion.

“I SAID GO AWAY!”

Andrew grabs his collar. “Calm down.”

“NO!” Aaron pushes back, and in the next split second looks horrified with himself. Before Andrew can get away, Aaron throws an arm around his brother and hugs him.

Katelyn does the smart thing. She sends Andrew a murderous look and then she scatters back upstairs.

Andrew is suffocating. The image of those big hands pressing him down are still so vivid. Aaron’s touch burns like boiling oil. Andrew tries to bear it, he understands Aaron is taking some kind of comfort from this.

Aaron is sobbing on his shoulder and Andrew is as still as a statue. The old impulse to push is growing slowly.

Then, panic skyrockets all at once, without warning. Get away! Stop touching me! Andrew’s brain is suddenly convinced that if he doesn’t get free now, he will die.

And so Andrew pushes. No vicious scream comes out of his mouth, because panic always steals his voice, but the hit is strong enough to send Aaron crushing against the wall.

Andrew refuses to look at his face. He’s spiraling. He needs control. He needs air.

The garden.

Andrew turns for the window. His fingers feel rigid and uncoordinated when he fumbles with the handle, but eventually he manages to slide the glass door, and walk into the lawn.

The sun hits him, it’s an unbelievably beautiful day.

He needs to do his exercises before the panic gets any worse. C’mon. You know how to do this. Open your mouth. Take air in.

The first attempts are frantic. Andrew is holding himself with one hand on the exterior wall of the house. His head is spinning, he feels unbalanced.

After two good breaths, Andrew realizes this is not a good position. He puts his back to the wall with both hands touching the bricks. He’s more stable now.

He observes his breath for a while, how the air feels on his lips, on his tongue, down his throat, into his chest. Then he strives to feel the rest of his body. His skin still feels too hot, his knees too weak.

He needs to ground himself. His mind is working on autopilot. Andrew takes off his shoes and socks without thinking, and he shivers when the grass touches his feet.

That horrid prickling sensation is enough to cut his panic in half.

Where are you? He can hear Bee’s voice in his head.

Aaron’s garden.

How is the temperature?

It’s warm. The sun is strong today. There’s not a hint of wind.

How many teeth do you have? Count them with your tongue.

Andrew starts with the molars. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…

By the time he reaches the last tooth, his perception of his body is a lot sharper. Now, Andrew is aware of how fast his heart is beating, of the sweat down his back, and how rigid his shoulders are.

He lets himself fall slowly to the ground. He crosses his legs. There’s an ant strolling next to his foot. Andrew stretches a hand and lets the creature climb onto his fingers. The prickle of her paws is minuscule.

Two days ago, you saw an ant strolling on my window frame. I put it on your hand, and you watched it move up and down your fingers for a long time. When it was time for dinner, I asked you to put it down, and you gently let it go on the ground.
You have a wonderful heart, and I have to believe nothing would be able to change that.

No one without dementia would ever say Andrew has a wonderful heart. But it’s nice to fantasize about a time when it could have been true. Andrew closes his eyes.

The panic attack is fading.

Bee had warned him this would likely happen. Both Aaron’s reaction and Andrew’s panic.

Now that Andrew feels more lucid, he remembers Bee talking about how he had the duty to protect himself first. That he wasn’t responsible for how other people reacted or felt. Everyone is exclusively responsible for their own feelings and no one else’s.

Andrew remembers the thud Aaron’s body had made when it collided against the wall. There’s a rancid taste in his mouth. It’s not guilt, but something close.

Well. Andrew really couldn’t have dealt with that any better. He couldn’t have said let go of me, because his mouth was sealed.

Aaron should have known better, but he was also in shock.

The glass door is still open, and Andrew is starting to hear sounds again. Aaron is not coming his way, and that’s probably for the better.

Andrew is still not as in control as he’d like, so he decides to meditate some more.

He focuses on his breath again and slowly relaxes his muscles.

When steps come through the glass door, Andrew hatches his eyes open.

The sun has moved to the other side of the sky. Midday has come and gone. Andrew must have meditated for two or three hours, which is nowhere near his record, but it still makes him feel pretty proud.

Aaron is standing next to him, looking like shit, holding a steaming mug. “Do you want company?”

Andrew appreciates being asked. He nods, holding a hand out to accept the mug.

Aaron keeps his eyes down as he sits on the grass next to him, without touching.

The warm chocolate is not as hot as it would be when it’s just being done. Aaron must have sat with it for a while before deciding to come outside.

“I’m sorry for pushing you,” Andrew says. It’s a complicated concept, because he knows he had no other choice, he knows Aaron should have known better, but he also knows he doesn’t want to hurt his brother.

Aaron is stunned into silence for far too long, and then… “I’m sorry for… hugging you like that. I forgot you don’t… like it.” His voice quivers on the last two words.

Andrew takes a sip; he feels the sweetness. So good.

“I have some questions,” Aaron says. “You don’t have to-”

“I don’t have to answer. I know. You can ask.”

Aaron audibly swallows. “Did you think I wouldn’t believe you?”

This first question is unexpected. Andrew had been ready to shut down any requests for details, but this?

“It’s just… what Luther has done to me. I always assume people won’t believe me, because… I was not ready when he didn’t. It was like taking a punch full force without tensing your muscles first. So, now I tense my muscles every time. I spent my whole childhood beating myself up for not having the strength to tell someone, and when I found myself with my hands tied, and only Luther as a bridge with the outside world, I had to tell him, or someone else was going to suffer my fate. And he shut me down so fast. The worst thing is that he didn’t believe I was lying, he thought I had… misunderstood. How-” Andrew huffs an incredulous laugh at the memory. “How can you misunderstand being raped? The definition of rape is applied based on whether the person gives consent or not. How can I misunderstand if I wanted it or not? How-”

Andrew stops. This conversation isn’t going to get him anywhere. He sips his cocoa.

“Luther is a garbage human being,” Aaron says. “And I believe you.”

It’s a bit embarrassing how much those four words make Andrew feel. A ton of weight has just lifted from his shoulders. He is so light now, he could be swept away with the wind.

“Do you have other questions?”

A short nod and a hidden sigh are the reply. “Does anybody else know?”

Andrew starts listing: “Neil. Bee.” And then shakes his shoulders. It’s a bit of a short list.

“Oh, you’ve- you’ve talked about it with Bee, I’m glad. I didn’t want- I was scared I might be the first person you told. That you might have kept this a secret for twenty years. But you told Bee, and… Neil. Neil too. Right. Did it…” Aaron stares into the distance, blinking. “Did it help you? Telling Neil?”

That’s a weird question. Andrew doesn’t know how to answer that. He shrugs again. “It’s easier to talk about it with Neil. He… understands. He can take stories of my past without flinching because he’s been through worse.”

Aaron gapes at that, looking at his brother like he’s just grown a second head.

“Did you forget the part where Neil’s father was a manic serial killer that wanted to kill him?” Andrew asks, confused.

“No- I remember that. It’s just… It’s not the same thing.”

“Neil was tortured from his early childhood until his teenage years. When I say Neil understands, it’s because rape is a form of torture. They both imply having someone taking control over your body, making you feel unsafe in your own skin, altering your perception of reality through panic and paranoia.”

Aaron nods, conceding his argument. “You feel like you went through similar experiences.”

“No. Neil had it worse.” Andrew doesn’t know why it’s so important to him to press that point. “I had some breaks between one disaster and the next. I’ve met some good people who tried to help me. I had you. I had Nicky. But Neil was alone.”

Aaron takes a breath and doesn’t let go of it. Andrew sees incredulity in his face and has no idea what it’s for.

“And these last ten years…” Andrew continues. “I’ve worked hard on my recovery. Day after day, every hour of every day, I’ve worked hard to feel again, and then to feel good and safe for the first time. But Neil… he refuses to even try. To even acknowledge that he might need it. I know that it will all come back to bite him one day, and I don’t think the day is far. There is a limit to how much a man can take before his sanity breaks, and I think the amputation was the very last straw. The next breeze that hits him will crush him, and I don’t know if I can hold him up like he has held me all these years.”

The words have flown out of his mouth like a bird founding his cage unlocked for the first time.

Andrew grabs his stomach, presses his fingers down into his flesh. “I am so worried for him I can barely think. And now he is deep into danger again, and I have so little power to save him. I don’t know how I can get him and the children out of this situation safely, but I have to.”

“I’ll help you,” Aaron says, out of nowhere. “I’m not exactly a fighter, but I’ll help you however I can. Whatever you need.”

It’s too much raw honesty for one day. Andrew can’t take it. “Don’t sell yourself short, killer. You know how to swing an Exy racquet to people’s heads well enough.”

Aaron will forever be uncomfortable with Andrew joking about this, but Andrew likes to cherish every opportunity he gets to remember how Drake met his demise.

“Speaking of which. I have another question.” Aaron’s mouth is pulled in an ugly frown. “What happened to… the others?”

“Are you planning on going on a killing spree?” Andrew almost pulls a smile for that.

Aaron is not equally amused. “I don’t know. Probably not. But they can’t be left to roam around freely.”

“Are you suggesting I should talk to the police? Do ask Betsy how long she’s tried to talk me into it, you might wanna give up now.”

Aaron looks very nervous now. It’s clear Andrew is shutting him down, and Aaron doesn’t want to insist, but it’s also clear he thinks this is very important.

Andrew takes pity on him. “None of them are free to roam around. I checked, when Pig Higgins came to Palmetto looking for dirt on the Spears. I realized Luther had lied, so I checked those other names. I was paranoid they might have hurt others after me, and that it was my fault for not speaking up. Now, I don’t think it would have been my fault, but I was relieved to find they were out of the picture at the time. One has disappeared many years ago, another one was murdered in his house, the third one was arrested for fraud, or something like that. He should get out in eight years. I still don’t know what I’ll do about that, but for now he can’t hurt anyone.”

Aaron nods, swallows, it’s obvious he wants to say more on the matter, but he doesn’t. “Ok. Ok. I have one last question. Is this… I don’t know how to ask this, but… is this all? There were no others… Right?”

Right…

Andrew looks down at his legs. Ants have been crawling on top of his trousers and are having a little party on his knee right now.  

“Andrew?”

Avoiding this question is basically an admission. There’s no point.

“There was another one. In Easthaven. One of the doctors. It was a trap set by Riko. Neil tried to stop it by complying to his threat and spending the holidays at the Nest. It didn’t work.”

Aaron doesn’t explode like last time. His eyes don’t get huge. They turn dark and dull.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice completely dead.

“That’s the last one.” Andrew shrugs. “For now.”

Aaron is back to being sharp again: “Don’t say that!”

His indignation is kind of funny. “I will tell you if there’s more in the future.”

“Are you fucking joking about this?”

Yes, he is. Andrew’s eyes are laughing. “Dude, I was raped for six years, I have to joke about it.”

Aaron looks crushed again, like he’s been hit with a truck for the second time that afternoon. With his lips pulled tight, he rises a hand, but immediately stops.

He stays like that, frozen in time, until he drops hand and shoulders and with a small voice he asks: “What does Neil do when he wants to hug you and you don’t feel like it?”

“Nothing,” Andrew answers with no hesitation.

“Right.” Aaron looks even sadder now. That’s not Andrew’s problem, he has to think of his emotions, not somebody else’s.

Still, Andrew pulls his sleeve until his hand disappears into the shirt. “You can hold my sleeve.”

Aaron rises his head, looks at the sleeve, smiles uncertain, and in the end accepts the offer. “It’s what that kid was doing when I met him. Cedric. How is he?”

“Better. But he still has lots of nightmares and he’s still wetting the bed.”

“Mhh… That boy needs a room for himself. Are you… holding up ok with him around?”

“He’s amazing,” Andrew says. “I don’t know if I’m the best person to take care of him, I get triggered a lot. But we understand each other, and I think he likes that.”

Aaron nods, still looking like he’s just swallowed a frog. “Can I ask about your triggers?”

“No.”

It’s such an immediate and stern answer that Aaron drops his gaze. “Ok.” He nods again. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit in shock.”

Yeah, he looks in shock. His skin is sickling white, his eyes are swollen.

“Are you ok?” Andrew asks.

“Are you- are you asking me?” Aaron’s laugh is weak and unsure. He looks like he’s about to throw up. “When I said I would take the binder for you only if you told me why you wanted it, I didn’t mean… I didn’t want to pressure you into telling me this.”

Andrew shrugs. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while. It was just the excuse I needed.”

“So, is that- wait, why was it that you needed your files?”

“Some recent discovery made me suspect I might have been trafficked into a pedophile ring. I wanted to see if I could find any clue supporting this theory.”

“Oh.” Aaron has just been hit by a third truck. “I don’t even know how to react anymore. I’m sorry.” He takes a big breath. “Are you going to tell Nicky?”

“What? Fuck no. And you’re not going to tell anyone.”

“I know, I know, of course. I was just wandering… Nicky is our family after all. But you don’t have to-”

“Nicky doesn’t need to know any of this. He’s already fragile as it is,” Andrew says.

“Nicky’s not fragile,” Aaron murmurs.

Andrew purses his lips, disagreeing. “He’s been in and out of depression since conversion therapy. Him laughing every three seconds doesn’t mean he’s not depressed.”

“I know that,” Aaron concedes softly. His head is bent. “We should have done better by you, Andrew. I regret so many things.”

It sounds like he’s about to cry again, and Andrew can’t take that. He gets up and starts to put his shoes back on. “Don’t do that. Regret is a waste of time, and we don’t have an infinite amount of it.”

Aaron is looking at him getting ready to leave, and it’s like he wishes he had the strength to stop him. But he doesn’t. This day has robbed him of all energy.

The only strength he has left is for a last goodbye.

“I’ll do better in the future. I promise, Andrew. I promise.”

Chapter Text

It has been a long day without Andrew. Neil is not just tired, he’s cadaveric. Putting the children to sleep has been the last challenge of the day. Sadie didn’t want to go to bed without Andrew, something Neil felt very sympathetic to.

After a few different, panicked attempts (Neil first tried to tell Sadie to be a big girl, Sadie cried, Neil scolded her, she cried louder, so Neil picked her up and patted her on the back like a baby until she fell asleep), the task was done.

Neil is now waiting in the parking lot, feeling a bit like a sad dog whose owner abandoned him all day inside. The night is completely dark, the cold air of the desert is climbing up Neil’s shirt making him shiver every three seconds.

The pain in his hip is familiar at this point. The feeling of being one step away from falling down is getting stronger and stronger. There is nowhere to sit here, except for the ground, and Neil would not be able to get up from there without help at this point.

So, he waits. He shivers. He forces his mind to forget how much pain he’s in, and it works. A nice little trick his childhood has taught him: when you’re in so much pain you can’t take it anymore, just don’t.

A couple of headlights pierce through the darkness of the horizon. Neil would wag his tail if he had one.

The car slows to a halt and Andrew is immediately out of it. He opens his mouth, ready with some sarcastic remark about Neil being stupid enough to wait like that without a coat or a chair, but his attention is immediately captured by the giant bus parked near the door.

In the dim light, Andrew would not be able to see the bright yellow and green of the exterior, only how massive that monster is.

Andrew’s eyes are zeroing in on Neil in a second. “They were here.”

Neil nods, still shivering, tired and defeated.

“You told me everything was fine with the kids. And they were here!” Andrew smashes the car door close.

“You were a four-hour ride away. If I’d told you, you would have come back here for nothing. They were here only half an hour.”

Andrew’s anger is boiling under the surface. Neil understands it. The one day Andrew is not there…

His whole frame is tensing. He probably already had a stressful day; he doesn’t need this too.

“What happened?” Andrew’s voice is cold and steady. He’s clearly still deciding if his anger is aimed at Neil or not.

“Asahi and Beatrice came around noon. With the bus. Beatrice wanted to show it to me alone, but I didn’t want to leave the kids out of my sight. I brought them with me to see that thing. I don’t know when, but Melody slipped away at some point. I was worried. Asahi wasn’t there with us, I thought he might be with her. So, I left to check. I panicked… I wasn’t thinking straight, I left the kids alone. It was just for five minutes maximum, but… it was stupid. I found Melody in the cupboard, the same one she was hidden in last time, and…”

“With the gun?” Andrew asks.

Neil purses his lips. “Yes. She had the gun. She looked… shaken. I didn’t know what to do, Drew… she didn’t want to come out, so… I left her there. I gave her a bottle of water and a snack, and I closed the cupboard. I went back to the others and…”

Neil doesn’t feel cold anymore. Anger is turning his skin hot with shame. “Jiro was gone. Beatrice said Asahi came to collect him.”

Neil had felt so powerless, then. Is that how his mother had felt like every time Neil was cornered by one of his father’s men? Anger, shame and fear.

If Neil had two functioning legs still, he would have climbed up to the third floor, with all his kids in tow, and he would have bursts through the door. If Asahi had had any problem with that, Neil would have smashed his head against a wall.

“They were gone only twenty minutes. I don’t know what the hell that man is doing to that kid up there, but we are not letting this happen again.”

Andrew is quiet. Neil wonders if he is blaming him for all of this.

“Jiro seemed fine as long as those two were around. But when they left, he crashed. The way he does, you know… he shut down. He didn’t speak for the rest of the day, and he scratched his hands every time he thought no one was looking.”

“Did you ask him what happened?”

“He said it’s a private family matter.”

Andrew stares back at Neil with no emotions. There is a moment in which Neil thinks Andrew is so angry with him he will not even show it.

But then something shifts, Andrew releases the tension and sighs. “We’ll figure this out. Let’s get inside.”

He turns to his car and opens the passenger door to get a massive pile of papers.

Neil doesn’t ask questions yet; Andrew will talk when he’s ready.

Neil wakes up crumbled up on Andrew's side like a monkey. Andrew is awake, sitting comfortably inside the covers, with his laptop on his legs and a steaming mug on the bedside table. With Neil hugging his waist, and their legs all intertwined.

How did they even get into this position? Did Andrew get up, boot up his computer, made coffee, and then came back to bed, just so Neil could glue to him like an octopus?

Well. However they got into this position, Neil likes it. His face is an inch away from Andrew’s side, it would be so easy to kiss it.

“Yes or no?”

Andrew looks down at him and places a hand on his hair. “Yes.”

Neil kisses his side, a brief contact from over the shirt. Neil doesn’t want to try anything more daring; he doesn’t want Andrew to think this has to turn into anything more than morning cuddles.

“What are you doing up there?”

Andrew takes a sip of his steaming coffee then puts it back on the bedside table. “Looking for ideas on how to renovate the kids’ room. We can’t procrastinate this any longer. Cedric needs a space for himself. And I think Melody and Ray need one too. Maybe Jiro as well.”

Right. It would be ideal for all of them to have their own space, but their resources are already limited as it is.

“Any ideas yet?”

Andrew turns the screen Neil’s way. “This guy halved his living room with a wooden panel to create a room for his kid. It’s not a bad idea, and it’s cheap enough, but you have to have a window for each section, and you have to account for new lights, doors, and heat installations.”

Neil immediately imagines how they could divide the big bedroom. They have two windows on one wall, and two windows on the other. There’s no way they can obtain more than two miniscule additional rooms in there. Not without sacrificing all the others.

“What about the laundry room?” Neil asks.

“Right. We can put Melody to sleep inside a washing machine. She likes tight spaces.”

“I meant without the washing machines, you comedian.”

Andrew stops looking at the YouTube video on the screen to give all his unimpressed attention to Neil. “Should we start washing our clothes in the river?”

Neil sighs and makes an effort to lift himself up in a semi-sitting position. “We can move them. We could put one in the bathroom, and one here. We can live without the third.”

“Ah.” Andrew blinks. “It’s always a disconcerting experience when you have a good idea. But washing machines can’t just be moved anywhere. You need to have the pipes in the right places and… stuff.”

“And… the pipes can’t be moved?”

Andrew frowns. “Do I look like a fucking plumber to you? I don’t know. Maybe. But even if they can, I don’t know how to do it. Do you?”

Neil is still sleepy. Eighty percent of his mind is still thinking about how much he’d like to kiss Andrew’s side again, but properly. Without shirt, with lots of tongue and teeth.

Neil yawns. “Don’t we have a handyman in the staff? With the gardeners and the cooks and the bodyguards. I think Beatrice said we also have an electrician or a plumber, to keep this place running.”

Neil and Andrew have not interacted with any of the other adult human being in the stadium, unless they directly had to do with the kids, like the creepy ass teacher, and the creepy ass pediatrician. There is very little doubt that any worker sent in there would be associated with the mob in some way, so Neil has had good reasons to not get friendly with anyone.

Andrew’s eyes turn into slits. “Do not have a third good idea. We don’t know what might happened. Your head could explode.”

“Why are you being mean to me this morning?”

“I’m in a good mood.”

“So yesterday really went well?”

Andrew doesn’t answer with his words. He gets up from the bed, abandoning Neil to the unfairness cold of his own body, and comes back with something in his hands.

“I was an adorable baby.”

Neil is handed a pile of pictures. “Oh, my God.” A bunch of baby Andrews are looking at Neil with their cheeks full like hamsters, big brown eyes and platinum blond hair. The cuteness is aggressive, Neil is about to pass out.

“I am so proud of you for coming out at four months old.” Neil says, waving the picture where baby Andrew is wearing a sailor suit.

“I had style from day one. You wouldn’t understand.”

They don’t have a lot of time before they have to wake up the kids, so Andrew gives a short summary of yesterday's events. About how he found many good things, tiny bits of his past he had forgotten or refused to acknowledge. He has tangible proof of the existence of many different people who had cared for him.

All the accounts from age eight to thirteen had been reduced to the bone. Andrew says a lot of stuff is missing: school reports he remembers getting, all the medical appointments they had him take, the speech therapy sessions for his mutism.

The case worker called Haddon had been the one responsible for Andrew from age eight. From the moment she’d appeared, the sexual abuse had started.

“It’s still not enough to prove it was a ring, but… it is suspicious,” Andrew says.

Neil thinks it’s more than suspicious, but if Andrew still needs more proof, he won’t argue with that.

“And Aaron? What happened with him?”

Andrew shrugs like that wasn’t exactly the reason why he had been nervous. “It went well.” Then, after a long pause he adds: “It was a lot.”

Neil knows there’s more to unpack there, but Andrew doesn’t seem inclined to continue. He will be, eventually.

They wake up the kids together soon after that, which immediately makes the day astronomically better.

Sadie jumps out of her bed with a squeak as soon as she spots Andrew. She runs to him barefoot, with no hesitation, and Andrew effortlessly picks her up. Cedric is there second, with eyes open like an owl, as close to Andrew as he could be without touching.

“IT’S HIM! THE MAN! THE MYTH! THE LEGEND!” Judie is jumping on her knees on the upper bunk.

Harry is more reserved, she just smiles, almost shyly, but doesn’t get closer.

David follows the enthusiasm of the room, he throws himself to the ground with a thud and, after two big steps, he jumps directly onto Andrew and sticks to him like a baby monkey.

Neil loves them all. Finally, Andrew is getting the warmth and smiles he deserves. Finally, Neil isn’t the only one who can see how amazing Andrew is.

“Ok. Ok, everyone. Let’s tone this down a notch. By half at least I’d say. David… ow, ow, you’re choking me.”

It’s a good five minutes before they can restore order. By the time both David and Sadie have been uprooted from Andrew, and Cedric has safely clutched his hand, Andrew has eyes only for one boy.

Jiro is climbing down from his bunk with studied calmness.

“Jiro. You good?”

Jiro looks up at Andrew, almost startled for having been addressed. “I'm fine, sir.”

Andrew laughs through his nose. That is possibly the worst thing Jiro could have said. “Ok, mini-Neil, you are with us today. We need a little helper and you have been chosen.”

Jiro smiles and nods and looks like he could puke at any moment. He’s pale. There are dark circles around his eyes, and the back of his hands are red from all the scratching.

At breakfast, Jiro doesn’t eat. He’s distracted, he doesn’t even pretend to listen to David’s rumbling.

Neil feels a hole in his stomach. This is his fault. He let this happened. Neil is still not sure Jiro isn’t a little psychopath in the making, but even if he is, no kid deserves to be so stressed out that they need to hurt themselves.

Next, they take the kids to class and warn the teacher that Jiro will stay with them for the morning. Mr. Suji glares at them, like they are the worst scum on planet Earth, and he slams the classroom door in their faces.

What a charming individual.

“I think Mr. Suji is angry. Maybe I should go…” Jiro mumbles.

Andrew puts a hand on the kid’s back and pushes him away from the class. “Suji is angry at us. Not you. And we need you more than he does, right now. We are going to renovate your bedroom; a child’s perspective will be useful.”

“Renovate?” Jiro asks with worry in his voice. “Does… ehm… my family know of this? Do you have permission?”

Neil shots Andrew a conspiratorial look. They both nod.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Absolutely.”

Before Jiro can panic about them painting the walls a nice color without daddy mobster’s permission, they push him forward and start walking fast towards the staff unit.

They bother a couple of innocent gardeners before they find the right door.

The Eyrie Court’s handyman is a balding man in his fifties who looks absolutely stunned to have visitor at his door. He’s wearing a grey shirt with at least two holes in it, and a pair of stained pants. Behind him there is what almost looks like a prison cell, but with much more clutter and exactly the same smell. 

“Ah, I wasn’t expecting anyone,” he says.

Neil doesn’t remember seeing this man around ever, which is weird. “Are you… the handyman?”

“Yeah. Frederick Krueger. I was born before the movies came out. Just call me Fred.”

Neil frowns. “What movies?”

Andrew pushes him to the side. “This is Neil Josten, doesn’t know what a movie is. I am Andrew Minyard. This is Jiro Moriyama. Do you know how washing machines work?”

The man ignores the question. He gapes at Jiro for a second, and then makes an awkward little bow.  

Jiro visibly cringes and looks away.

Andrew snaps his fingers. “Washing machines. Focus, Fred.”

“Uh, yeah. Of course. Are you having issues with the laundry?”

“Yes. Come upstairs. We need help.”

They all walk in painful silence. Andrew sets a slow pace, so that Neil isn’t left behind, while Jiro steers away from the handyman looking down at his feet the whole way.

When they reach the laundry room, Neil stares at it, trying to imagine it as a cozy child’s bedroom. It wouldn’t be spacious, but it would be private. They would need to get a carpet to cover those cold tiles and add some warm lights in place of those awful white neon.

“What seems to be the issue?”

“We need to move everything out,” Andrew says. “We need to clear this room from the washing machines. We were thinking about moving one in the bathroom, one in our room, and we don’t know what to do with the third, but we need everything out of here.”

Fred doesn’t ask questions. He scratches his head, asks to see the bathroom and the apartment, and starts humming as he looks around.

He seems to have everything under control. Neil, Andrew and Jiro carry on to the kids’ room.

“The laundry should go to Cedric,” Neil says. “It’s closer to our room, and he would have actual walls around him.”

Andrew nods, staring at the rows of beds. “We can raise a panel from there, to here, and then another one to divide the middle. We’ll get two small bedrooms with one window each, and there’d still be two on this side for the others.”

Neil isn’t sure. They’d be really, REALLY small bedrooms, and the others will still be sacrificed in a small space.

“Help me move the beds. Let’s see if this could work,” Andrew says.

They have five bunks, for a total of ten beds. One is wasted, because they only have nine kids. One will go in the laundry, so, first of all, they move an entire bunk out.

Jiro helps out, pushing one of the kids’ chests into the hallway as well.

They should also probably find a better solution than those ugly chests. They look exactly like what you would expect to find in an orphanage from fifty years ago, and they are taking a lot of space.

They disassemble one of the bunks to get two separate beds. Which is not difficult, they merely need to unlock a couple of screws and lift the upper one.

They put the two beds where they imagine the small bedrooms could be, then create a border with the chests to visually see where the wooden panels might go.

The other three bunk beds are pressed on the other side of the room.

Both Andrew and Neil are frowning down at that sad display.

“This is ugly as shit,” Andrew says. “We should buy new beds.”

“Right. When you say we should buy, you mean I should buy. You don’t have any money, remember?”

Andrew is not listening. He has taken his phone out, and he’s looking through pictures of furniture for children. “Oh. This is nice. Look at this. Bunk beds with a third bed that comes out of the giant drawer at the bottom. We’d only need to get two of these, and the kids will have more space. We could get desks and wardrobes too.”

“Mhm.” Neil can actually see that.

They get rid of another bunk, and finally this actually looks like it could turn into a decent bedroom.

“Ok, Jiro,” Andrew says. “You can call dibs. We wanted to get four of you in their own bedroom, but we only managed to get three. You can choose. Where do you want to be?”

Jiro looks uncomfortable. “Where is David going to stay?”

Neil and Andrew exchange a quick look.

“With the others, on this side,” Andrew explains. “I don’t think David would do well in solitude. Do you want to stay on this side with David?”

Jiro scratches the back of his hand, makes a tiny nod. “If I may.”

“That solves the issue then,” Andrew says. “We’ll keep one of the rooms for Melody, and one for Ray.”

Fred comes in right then, still scratching his head, looking a bit lost and out of place, like he hasn’t had human contact in a decade. “I can do it. But I’ll need some time, and it’ll be noisy.”

“If you start now, can you be done by night?” Andrew asks.

The man shrugs. “Probably.”

Andrew turns to look at Neil with a bright and dangerous light in his eyes. “We have a giant bus, and a lot of stuff to buy. We should go shopping.”

Oh no.

Andrew acts like a ravenous racoon when he shops for Neil, if we add nine more whole people to spoil, Andrew will run Neil’s wallet dry in ten minutes.

“Uhm…”

“The closest IKEA is two and a half hours away, and they also have a giant mall right next to it. We should be able to do everything in one go.”

“You… Have you been planning this?”

Andrew doesn’t let any expression slip. “There’s also a McDonald’s there. We should go to McDonald’s.”

“I- there’s not enough money in my credit card for all of this.”

Andrew makes a sad puppy face. Neil is sure no one else in the world has seen Andrew’s sad puppy face. It is devastating.

“Oh, c’mon, Drew. Don’t do this to me. I- Ugh. Fine. We can collect some of my savings on the road. I have some hidden not too far away from here.”

They gather the kids in front of the locker rooms, some of them already changed in their gear.

“Hold up, everyone. We’re going to McDonald’s,” Andrew announces, and the whole squad lights up like a Christmas tree.

What’s so special about McDonald’s anyway? Neil doesn’t get all the enthusiasm about it.

Before loading the children on the bus, Andrew and Neil leave to grab some necessary items for the travel. Andrew shows up at the parking lot with the wheelchair, which has Neil frowning in displeasure, while Neil is carrying a couple of big shovels.

“What the hell,” Andrew states calmly.

“We need to collect my savings, remember?”

Andrew has that expression he makes sometimes, when he seems to be regretting ever getting to know Neil.

The bus is huge, brand new and ridiculously luxurious. There are only nine tiny humans to occupy it, plus their two coaches, but it still feels like a war is breaking out in the back.

David looks high on sugar already, jumping up and down the seats and the corridor, Judie is playing this awful game of climbing over the seats like a worm, and somehow she hasn’t broken her head yet. When David sees her, he immediately starts copying her.

Andrew doesn’t seem to mind. He takes the wheel and starts getting himself comfortable with all of the buttons.

“You do know how to drive a bus, right?”

Andrew answers with a “sure” that is a note too high, and then proceeds to stare at a blinking light on the console for far too long.

“Mate. Don’t be so proud. Just say you don’t know how to do it. I’ll teach ya.”

Andrew gives him an unimpressed stare. “You know how to drive a bus?”

“I’ve had a colorful past, full of interesting experiences. If I learned how to drive a bus at fourteen with some guy yelling instructions at me in Austrian German, you can do it with me here. It’s not that difficult.”

“Sure. That might has well have happened,” Andrew mutters. He gets up from his seat and yells to get the kids attention.

The kids are too buys trying to turn on the tv hung in the upper corner, so Andrew honks the horn three times, deafening anyone in a one-mile radius.

And now the laughing, screaming and jumping is quieted. “Seat down and buckle up. We are going.”

“Buckle up?!” Ray yells. “This is a bus! I am not wearing a seat belt. I’m not a baby!”

“Then we will go nowhere,” Andrew replies unfazed. Neil knows it’s an act, Andrew wants that McDonald’s more than the kids. “I promise you it’s not pretty when people fly out of the windows because they haven’t been wearing a seat belt.”

Ray is relentless. He starts stomping his feet, which is how his tantrums begin these days. The other kids get angry at him for slowing down the trip, which makes Ray even less likely to do as he’s told.

Ten minutes into this bullshit, Neil is sure Melody is about to commit murder.

Judie is a close second: “Let’s just leave him here. We’ll go without him.”

Ray’s anger turns explosive. He turns to punch her, but he’s too slow, she ducks.

“I don’t give a fuck!” But by they way he trembles it’s pretty obvious he cares a lot about being left behind.

“We are not going without Ray,” Neil says. “We either go together, or we don’t go at all. Here’s the deal, Ray: you either buckle up with the others, or we all get back and go to practice.”

Harry’s head sticks out from one of the seats. “Come on, Ray. I’ll give you my chips.”

Ray is still shivering with rage, but he has been given a dignified excuse. He’ll do it for the chips.

As everyone is finally buckled up for the journey, Neil seats down in the spot closest to Andrew and starts giving instructions.

Neil doesn’t have Andrew’s perfect memory, but he has worked out strategies, over the years, on how to recognize precise spots in vast, empty areas.

Andrew has been driving as slow as it is physically possible, so much so that Neil doesn’t even feel it stopping when Andrew pulls the handbrake.

“Here?” Andrew asks, looking around the desertic nothingness of the sideroad.

“Yeah. It’ll just take a minute.” Neil pushes the button to open the front door, and carefully manages the tight steps leading to the ground. He opens the trunk and retrieves one of the shovels.

“What are we doing here?”

Neil looks back at the bus to find Judie getting off in an excited hop.

“Stay on the bus. I’ll be right back.” But he’s not even done with the sentence that a river of kids starts pushing to get through the tiny door and into the desertic landscape.

Andrew also comes down, putting on a pair of sunglasses and looking unbothered with the children’s unruly behavior.

Neil shakes his head, defeated, and starts looking for the right spot. He inspects the guardrail for a while, until he finds a tiny incision on one of the poles: “NJ”.

“Here.” The tip of the shovel hits the ground with all the strength Neil has in his arms and back. It’s difficult to put the right pressure when you’re not completely stable on your legs, but it shouldn’t be too far down.

“Gather around children,” Andrew yells. “This is what mental illness looks like.”

Neil glares at him and keeps digging. “My mental illness is the only reason we’re not broke.”

“What are we doing?” Judie asks. “What’s down there?”

Andrew whispers: “Neil’s sanity”, while Neil replies truthfully with: “Cash.”

Ray snorts. “You are digging for a treasure chest like a pirate?”

“But…” Harry sweet voice intervenes. “Why didn’t you put your money in a bank?”

“Banks are a scam. You can’t take your money out of one quickly, and everything is traced.” Neil replies, out of breath. This is taking more effort than he expected, the ground is too dry, and Neil doesn’t feel much stronger than a child.

“Neil is right,” Andrew says, nodding enthusiastically like one does with insane people. “The only logical thing to do with your money is to dig a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere and hide it away like a squirrel before winter.”

“Do you need help?” David asks, because he’s a nice kid and, Neil has just decided, the only person that he likes.

Neil doesn’t want to answer with a yes, and doesn’t feel like lying with a no. Thankfully, Andrew decides he is done torturing him, cause he steps ahead and takes the shovel out of his hands.

The gang leaves again soon after, heavier with a rather large wooden box, and the two hundred thousand dollars within it.

“I have discovered a new negative correlation that I think scientists should know about.” Andrew sits down next to Neil with a tray loaded with smelly burgers.

Neil sighs. When Andrew is in a good mood, he can’t shut up for longer than two minutes.

“Listen to this, it’s groundbreaking: the more a kid is involved with the mafia, the less they will know how to enjoy McDonald’s.” Andrew points his chin at their side of the table, with Theo, Jiro and Melody, all looking like they would rather be somewhere else, and then at the opposite side, with Judie, Sadie, Harry, David, Cedric and Ray barely containing their excitement.

“Then go sit with the non-mafia kids. I’ll be over here, brooding with my people.”

Andrew smiles and gives him a two fingered salute, before rushing to sit between Cedric and Ray.

Neil drinks a bit of coke and nibs on his chips. He doesn’t care about the food, he’s content with just watching the kids enjoying themselves with saturated fats and cheap plastic toys. Andrew also seems content with just reminding Cedric and Ray to eat slowly, the food isn’t going anywhere, you’re going to choke on a Chicken Nugget.

Meanwhile, the mafia kids have barely touched their food. Theo looks almost offended at the assumption that he should eat fast food, while Melody is too busy scanning the crowd, like she expects to be jumped at any second.

Jiro is still restless from yesterday. Neil knows he is scratching his hands beneath the table.

By 2pm they are done with lunch and everyone’s bathroom break, so they start the actual shopping.

First, Neil decides they should go to Home Depot, and see if they can actually find the wooden panels they need, and some doors to install in them.

Everyone boos his suggestions, so they end up splitting, with Andrew and the kids going to IKEA, and Neil doing the boring part by himself.

Neil doesn’t mind. Being around the kids takes a lot of energy for him, this solo mission is a good chance to recharge.

The Home Depot staff is welcoming. They understand Neil has money to spend, and they are happy to help him spend it.

“Do you need help loading everything in your trunk, sir?”

Neil manages to not glare at the employ, who is very obviously referring to his limping. It is a lot of stuff to load, actually. Maybe most people would ask for help even if they have two legs.

“Yes, thank you.”

Neil reunites with the others at the IKEA checkout, where Andrew is instructing two employees on how he wants everything sent to his address within the day, and the employees are trying to calmly explain, for what doesn’t look like the first time, that it cannot be done.

“Issues?” Neil gets closer.

“Oh, there you are! No issues now that you are here. Take the money out.”

Neil blinks. He takes his wallet and doesn’t even notice when Andrew seizes it out of his hands. Neil has just seen the magnitude of Andrew’s purchase.

“Y-you were just supposed to buy the beds!”

“The beds, the wardrobes, the desks, and a bunch of other things. I’ve settled the shipment problem. Let’s move on, we still have lots of stuff to buy.”

Andrew drags them into another store immediately after. It looks like there’s just about anything in here, and Andrew gets lost in every single lane.

“The sheets. We need new sheets, and blankets too. Those black ones need to be burned in a fire. Here they are. Kids, your choice. What blankets do you want?”

Sadie chooses something with pink unicorns, right when Judie pretends to barf at it. They both look at each other with discomfort. Sadie is almost about to put the blankets away, when Harry intervenes: “Those pink ones are really pretty! Right, Judie?”

The older girl looks like she’s dying on the inside when she admits that pink is not too bad.

“Yeah. Love pink. Pink is great. Put it in the cart.” Andrew puts a second one in when Sadie finds the courage to pick the unicorn blanket again.

David wants exy themed blanket and sheets but, as there aren’t any, he settles for tractors and airplanes.

Harry goes for cream white and Judie chooses one filled with dinosaurs.

When Neil dares asking Melody what she wants, she looks back at him with as much hate as she can muster in one stare. “I don’t care. I am not a child.”

Yes, of course. Ten years old is basically geriatric.

“And you, Theo?”

The boy purses his lips. “I am keeping the black sheets, the ones the Moriyama family provided.” Theo looks proud of his stance. He even turns to his master for support: “Right, Mr. Jiro?”

Jiro doesn’t even give Theo a look. He points at a higher shelf and asks: “May I have those?”

It’s a dark blue blanket. In dim lighting it might even look exactly like the black ones they already have.

Neil nods, and then he has to go looking for a stool because he’s short as fuck.

Cedric and Ray look overwhelmed with the choice. Ray is unnaturally quiet. He’s looking at the prices of what the other kids have chosen. The one blanket he’s been hovering around the most costs twice as much, and Neil thinks he might know why he’s not asking for it.

“Don’t worry about the money. We have more than enough.”

Ray stares back at him, looking so tiny and lost. He still doesn’t ask for the blanket though; he just touches it.

Neil takes it out of the shelf. There’s no particularly interesting design, it’s a white and brown blanket made of yarn. “This is very heavy. You’ll probably feel too hot with this.”

Ray looks away, like he doesn’t even want to acknowledge that he wants it.

“We can still buy it, if you like it. Just be aware that it’s very warm.”

Ray shakes his shoulders. Still looking away, he replies softly: “I get cold at night.”

An aggressive tenderness takes over Neil’s heart. There is something so heartbreaking about Ray speaking softly; about him admitting something so simple and small.

Neil and Andrew discussed how they needed to buy stuff for the kids from day one. They noticed how Ray’s clothes are all worn out and tight, why have they waited so long to come here?

Neil adds the yarn blanket in the cart without saying a word.

Cedric is the only one missing. Andrew is trying to convince him to pick something, and the kid doesn’t seem opposed to the idea, it’s just… there’s a lot of choices.

Neil knows what it means, not knowing what you want, not knowing what you like, because you’ve never been allowed to choose.

When Cedric starts to look too uncomfortable, the kids intervene. Judie solves the issue in a simple childish way. She sings a little jingle, pointing at each blanket for every note, and when the song is over, that’s Cedric’s pick.

It ends up being a flower theme, with lots of explosive colors. Cedric doesn’t look neither thrilled nor disgusted by it, so they go for it.

“And for our favorite murderer…” Andrew goes through the only remaining shelf and picks out another blanket. “Puppies! What do you say, Mel? Can you find some place in your cold, dead heart for these adorable labradors?”

“I said that I don’t care,” Melody says.

And since she doesn’t care, Andrew chooses for her. Puppies it is.

They move on to the clothes section. The have to take another cart for it. Andrew goes nuts. Everyone gets new pajamas, jumpers, jeans, shirts, shoes, and a formal attire for special occasions.

It takes forever. Neil is beyond exhausted when they’re done.

“You’re limping,” Andrew says while they wait in line to pay. “I can get you the wheelchair.”

Neil shakes his head. “I’m not that tired. And we are done anyway.”   

“We are not done, you big dummy. We still have the electronic store and the toy store.”

“Wh-”

“Don’t worry about it. Just let me fulfill my vision.”

Neil sighs. Maybe he is that tired.

As Andrew steadily leads the way towards the closest electronic store, Neil spots a gun shop.

“Ah, you guys go ahead. I have to buy a few things.”

Andrew follows Neil’s focus and frowns. “What the fuck are you going to buy there?” He asks in Russian.

“We said we would train the kids with guns, remember?” Neil replies in the same language.

“No, you said that. I said it was a stupid idea.”

Neil shrugs. “See you later.”

It’s weird. Neil hasn’t been in a gun shop in… fuck, ten years. And it’s all still familiar to him. He can still recognize models just by looking from afar.

He doesn’t need anything fancy, two Glock 19 will suffice. Then he buys as many bullets as he can without raising suspicions, a bunch of shooting target sheets, two earmuffs and a suppressor.

The store owner stuffs everything in a dark plastic bag and sends Neil on his merry way.

Andrew and the kids reunite with Neil outside the toy store.

“Already done with the electronics?”

“I already knew what I wanted,” Andrew replies without explaining any further.

The children are buzzing. There’s a rainbow plastic arc to cross to get into the toy store, and the children are vibrating next to it, like drug addicts in withdrawal.

Neil observes this phenomenon like he’s an alien studying human behavior. He doesn’t remember ever being excited to get into a toy store.

Actually. Neil doesn’t remember ever getting into a toy store as a child.

“Ok, kids, let’s go. You can get whatever you want.”

More than one child gawks at Andrew like he’s lost his mind. Which he has.

The first section is for dolls and Sadie goes crazy. Even if Andrew said they can get whatever, Sadie is still trying to work out a single doll to pick among the many. Neil will thank her mother for teaching this girl some common sense.

The choice ends up being between one white, blond baby with blue eyes, and another white, blond baby with blue eyes.

There are a couple of Black dolls hiding on the shelves, but nothing that remotely looks like Sadie’s skin color.

Neil supposes that asking for an Asian/brown doll would be too much.

“Wooow,” David is jumping up and down with a big box in his hands. “This one can eat food! And poops too! Can I have it?”

That is the worst idea for a toy ever: a doll that poops. But David seems ecstatic.

Andrew puts it in the cart without a word, and Ray bursts out laughing.

“That’s for girls, you idiot. You can’t buy that.”

David shots Ray a confused look, like he’s never heard of the concept of toys for girls.

“You can buy whatever you want,” Andrew reminds him.

“Really?” Ray brings out his provocative tone. He looks around for a second and points. “You would buy me that?” It’s a toy make up set, with even a princess crown included.

Andrew shrugs and starts to take it down. “If you want it.”

“EW! No! I don’t want that!”

“Then chose something that you want.”

It dawns on Ray for the first time that Andrew actually means it, and for a moment, the boy seems lost again. He can choose anything, anything at all and he would get it.

Neil can only imagine how disorienting that must feel.

Ray is silent after that. He grabs the metal net of the cart and follows it quietly, looking around at the toys.

Judie and David make up for all the shy kids that are too embarrassed to grab stuff. Just the two of them fill up the first cart with plushies, cars, trains, dinosaurs, superhero action figures…

“Harry, have you picked anything yet?”

She shakes her head to Neil’s question. “I don’t need anything.”

“It’s not about needing. Just choose something that will make you happy.”

The girl ponders this over.

Neil doesn’t know if at nine years old Harry is too grown for these kinds of things. But Judie is ten, and she obviously still enjoys playing.

After a lot of walking, Harry stops and excuses herself, running back from where they came from.

She comes back again a few minutes later. She has chosen a doll too, a very small one, that fits in one of her hands. It’s made out of fabric and has a tiny blue dress.

At first, Neil thinks she has chosen the cheapest thing in the store just to shut them up, but by the way she is happily clutching that thing, he has to reconsider.

“Jiro, Theo, Melody?” Andrew asks. “We are going to call you The Sad Squad. C’mon. Chose something.”  

“I am really grateful for your kindness,” Jiro replies. “But I- I don’t really play with toys, sir.”

“Of course, he doesn’t!” Theo intervenes. “And neither do I!”

“Uh-uh. But what about this?” Andrew grabs Jiro and starts pulling him, knowing full well Theo will follow as well.

After a few turns, the team is in front of a marvel that leaves Ray audibly holding his breath.

A brand-new videogame console is displayed in bulk, with a big screen on top of it showing off the latest game where people happily kill each other.

Jiro doesn’t seem too impressed, but Theo… oh, Theo is about to foam at the mouth for it.

“So? Theodore? Stop looking at Jiro, I’m asking you if you want it. Look, I can even add a Nintendo into the mix, in honor of your Japanese roots. What do you say?”

Theo swallows. He adjusts his glasses.

“You should take it,” Jiro says. “I don’t care about videogames, but you should take it.”

It only takes a second after he’s got his permission for Theo to grab the box at the top and start scouting for videogames.

“And you, Ray?” Andrew asks. “Do you want one too?”

Ray gapes at him. He glances at the price tag and quickly shakes his head.

It saddens Neil to see the boy worry himself with prices like five hund- FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS?? FOR A TOY??

What the actual fuck.

Neil doesn’t mind playing videogames himself, but… what the fuck?

He’s careful not to say anything though.

Andrew goes on to buy three additional controllers for Theo’s console. The possibility of Theo and Ray playing together are slim, but… who knows?

After that, Cedric and Andrew disappear for a while, after the boy has shown his coach something written down on a notepad.

“Mel?” Neil asks, already knowing the answer from the little psycho.

She raises an eyebrow in mockery. “I can ask for anything I want?”

Neil purses his lips. “Within a reasonable limit.”

“I want a hundred dollars.”

Well, that was fucking easy. Neil takes out his wallet and gives her a Benjamin.

She takes it but doesn’t stop looking at him for a second. “You are a complete imbecile.”

“I would have given you up to five hundred dollars. Who is the imbecile now?”

“Still you.”

Neil ignores her. He turns to the last stubborn duo. “Ray? Seriously, there’s like… fifty things at least you want from here. Just pick whatever. And you, Jiro. You are nine years old, there must be something here that you like.”

Jiro looks down at his feet, Ray shrinks on himself. Ok. Not the right strategy.

Thankfully, Andrew is back with his pupil. He drops a bunch of jigsaw puzzles in the cart, plus colored markers, and a couple of sketchbooks, then he looks at all the stuff they are about to buy, then back at the kids. “We do another round for Ray and Jiro.”

Some of the kids groan. They are all tired. Neil is very tired. But Ray looks relieved.

Andrew stops the procession every time Ray glances at one section for longer then two seconds. He picks up a bunch of options and asks Ray to choose one.

The boy is so unnaturally shy when he points at this nerf gun or that remote controlled helicopter, and as the toys keep going, he gets quieter and quieter.

Jiro is the last one to give in. After disappearing for a minute hand in hand with David (when it comes to keeping those two apart, they have miserably failed) he comes back with a little plushie mouse with a bell attached to it.

Neil looks down at it, and he’s not sure if Jiro is trying to mock him or something. “That’s a cat toy.”

Jiro bows his head a little. “I am aware, sir.”

What the fuck does this mean? Jiro is afraid of cats. Is this a jab at how Neil has treated him that one time?

“Marvelous!” Andrew jumps. “Put it in the cart. Are we all done? Let’s go before your dear Coach Josten collapses on the floor.”

And that’s exactly what they do.

Chapter Text

At breakfast, the coaches are confabulating at their table like little girls. Ray is tempted to point out that they look like a couple of twinkletoes, but no one is sitting close enough to hear his joke.

Well. No one was going to understand it anyway.

Actually, Ray is not completely sure of what twinkletoes means. But he has a loose grasp of what the context needs to be for that word to be fitting. And Ray can rightfully imagine his uncle sneering at the two coaches leaning on each other, with Josten laughing so close to Minyard’s ear…

After gobbling up his eggs and toasted bread, Ray gets up and walks towards the door.

The temptation is too strong. He snickers the word twinkletoes when he brushes next to the coaches’ table.

Minyard turns to look at him, just long enough to show that he has heard, and then he turns back towards Josten. He waits for Josten to be done with the useless bullshit he’s babbling, and then he grabs his chin. Minyard waits a second, Josten smiles, and then they kiss. On the lips. Like boys and girls do.

Ray just stands there, not knowing what to do. It doesn’t get less weird the second or the third time he’s seen this. It’s… bizarre. Like pouring cereals into a bowl of milk, instead of pouring milk into a bowl of cereal.

“Go get prepared for class, Ray,” Josten says, when Ray has just been staring at the two of them for a while. “We are going to unpack all the stuff we bought this morning. There’s going to be a surprise when you guys are done with morning practice.”

A surprise?

Ray almost slips and asks if the surprise is for him too. He stops in time though. He knows what would have followed that question: the coaches would have looked at each other, smirking and snickering, and yeah… of course the surprise is not for Ray.

Actually, it’s rare hearing the two of them laugh, especially Minyard, but Ray can hear the sound in his head, nonetheless. And their laughs sound a lot like uncle’s.

A flash of the man’s toothless grin invades Ray’s mind, and the boy’s skin is suddenly on fire. His muscles contract. He wants to bang his fists and kick and make this feeling go away, but he tries to rein it in, because he knows that, eventually, he will push the wrong button, and the coaches will send him back home.

Back to uncle.

Ray pushes Josten’s glass off the table. The shuttering sound is pleasant, it soothes the fire for a little bit. The boy knows he is going to get hit very soon, but it was worth it.

But then time goes on, nothing hits him, and Ray is back to his senses. He watches the shards on the ground, and he doesn’t remember doing it. Or, rather, he remembers doing it, he remembers choosing to do it. But it’s like… someone else has chosen for him. Sometimes it feels like anger is an entire other person living in Ray’s body. And sometimes it chooses to do things and Ray can’t stop it.

Coach Josten sighs. “Thank you for your morning show, Ray. I was beginning to fear things might go smoothly today.”

Anger moves him again and decides to kick the leg of the table.

It takes all of his strength to disengage, to move on. As he leaves the cafeteria and tags along the others towards the classroom, Ray is torn in two very different feelings. Part of him is satisfied to have had the last word. The other part is feeling guilty, because the coaches have bought him a warm blanket, new clean clothes and lots of toys. If Ray could show that he’s grateful, for once, maybe they won't throw everything away.

The night before, the boy had been too scared to ask why they left the toys in the bus. He knew if he had asked to have them, the coaches would have made him believe that he could keep them, and then they would have destroyed them or burned them. And they would have laughed when Ray found out.

Ray won’t fall for it. He has already risked too much by pointing at stuff he would have liked. He isn't going to make the mistake of outright asking for something.

Everyone takes their seats in class, and when Mr. Suji walks in, everyone stands and says: “Good morning, Mr. Suji.”

Ray does it too, but he feels really stupid. If his uncle were there, he would have called him a faggot. Ray doesn’t know how to say good morning without looking like a faggot. Maybe if he stands a bit more like this, or… if his voice sounded more like uncle’s…

“Sit down, children. Open your Japanese notebooks, I want to look at your hiragana.”

Ray sits down and opens his notebook. There is no anger moving Ray in Mr. Suji’s classroom, only fear, and fear doesn’t destroy things like anger does. When fear takes a hold of Ray’s body, it’s like being trapped in a freezer. Moving, talking and breathing feels painful.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Mr. Suji has only contempt for Ray’s work.

The boy’s stomach starts to hurt unbearably. Is Mr. Suji going to send him back if he can’t learn to do these stupid scribbles?

“Ray Guerrero, Sadie Lu and David Day. You will come sit over here together and do it all over again.”

The teacher observes the three students moving with a frown. “Why is it always you three? I will not have you move on from this exercise until you can do it properly.”

Ray bends his head over his new desk and tries not to think of how he always gets paired with the toddler and the retarded kid.

If uncle knew…

Ray picks up his pen and tries to focus. He just has to copy the scribble. A monkey could do it. Why is Ray so fucking stupid? Uncle was right in laughing when mom tried to teach him how to write.

“Ow! Stop kicking me!” Sadie hisses.

Ray had not even realized he was kicking. He wants to say sorry, then, because Sadie and Harry are the only two people in there that don’t make him want to commit murder 24/7.

Ray doesn’t mind Sadie’s presence at all, actually. He always liked to play with younger kids, and he knows people were going to blame her for when they lost, which made Ray feel safer.

He doesn’t say sorry, though.

He moves the trajectory of his kicks and starts hitting David.

The other boy gives him a murderous look, glances back at the teacher to make sure they are not observed and writes the word bully on the desk.

Ray snickers. Does David really think he’s supposed to feel bad for being called a bully?

“Silence, over there. Have at least the decency to work quietly, Guerrero,” the teacher says.

Ray puts David out of his mind and actually tries. It’s not easy though. David cannot sit still for longer than two seconds. He constantly rises his head to look around, and then a speck of dust in front of his face would keep him fascinated for five minutes.

For as distracting as David is, Ray is still managing to accomplish something, which is more than can be said for the toddler and the retarded kid.

When Mr. Suji comes back to their table, David snaps out of his trance and looks up at him with horror. His page is blank.

When tears start welling up in the kid’s eyes, Ray is forced to hide a smile.

“What do I have to do to have you do something, Mr. Day?” The teacher asks, and the boy moves his mouth like a fish. “Do I have to remind you that you are required to meet a minimum grade to be allowed in the team? I can get behind stupidity, but plain laziness is beyond what I can forgive. Go to the corner.”

As hot tears are streaming down his cheeks, David gets up and walks towards the far corner of the room.

Ray would rather skin himself than end up in the corner. The humiliation of having your face towards the wall while knowing that the other children are laughing at your back…

“Mr. Guerrero. Your work.”

Ray hands his notebook to the teacher and starts counting his heartbeats.

Mr. Suji looks at his exercise, and then glares at him. “If you can do a good job the second time, you can do a good job the first time.”

Ray nods even though he doesn’t understand if he has been praised or not. Well… Mr. Suji looks angry. That wasn’t a praise, then. Of course, it wasn’t.

After class they all head to the locker rooms, and then the court. Coach Josten is the only one there, and it’s obvious everyone is disappointed in Minyard’s absence.

Ray doesn’t care. He just wants to play.

Exy is the one thing he’s good at. Uncle always got angry when Ray sneaked out to go play street Exy instead of doing his chores, but then some important dude saw him play and went to uncle with a proposition.

Ray had never felt so… cherished like in that night. Uncle had showed him the number on the check and told him: “Look how much you’re worth!”

The number looked big. Ray had been almost sure uncle wasn’t making fun of him, then.

As the night went on, uncle got more and more drunk, and more and more people were coming into the house, and to each of them uncle had showed the check and then his nephew like he could not believe those two things could be related.

Uncle gave Ray his first beer that night. He said the boy had earned it.

But then, when uncle came back to his senses the morning after that, and he saw all the mess of the party that hadn’t been cleaned, he threw a chair at his golden nephew, and while the boy was stunned from the hit, he dig through the junk to find a good wooden stick to continue the beating.

Ray had somehow underestimated the danger he was in. He had thought… now that he was worth something, uncle was going to be more careful with him.

But that had been stupid.

Ray hasn’t received a beating in months now, but his back still aches when he moves his arms a certain way. His wrist makes a funny noise when he moves his hand to swing the racquet.

Even with all of that, Ray never holds back on the court. He blocks every attempt of the opposing team to cross the defensive line. Which it’s easy enough when the opposing team is made out of David, Cedric and Judie.

Actually, Judie isn’t half bad to be a girl, but she’s still a girl, and Ray intercedes her shots to the striker each time.

She’s starting to get frustrated, and that makes her movement even easier to read.

When David finally gets a hold of the ball, Ray knows he’s never going to be able to predict where he’s going to shoot, but that’s hardly a problem, as David seems to want to avoid the goal at all costs.

In fact, David shoots and the ball flies in the complete opposite direction. Ray is too busy snickering at his incompetence to realize he’s on the trajectory.

The hit he takes is enough to tilt his head backwards and throw his ass to the floor.

Judie is close enough that Ray hears her laughing.

“Time out!” The coach yells.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!” David whines as he gets closer.

Anger is taking over again, because Ray knows. He knows David meant to do that. He knows him and Judie are in it together and they were both waiting to laugh at Ray.

“Ray, are you ok?” Coach Josten huffs as he tries his best at a hurried hop.

“He’s fine,” Judie giggles. “His head is harder than concrete.”

Ray rises from the floor, he takes off his helmet and gloves and, before the coach can reach them, he swings his racquet at Judie.

She doesn’t have time to shriek, she just goes down like a fragile little girl.

The one to shriek now is David, who is close enough to throw himself at Ray. The two kids wrestle for a second, but Ray is bigger, and David has obviously not been in many fights. Ray knees him in the side, where the protections will not cover him well.

“Stop it! That’s a fucking order, Ray!” The coach tries to separate the two, but the second he’s in the middle of the brawl, he falls ungraciously to the ground.

Now Judie is back up, and she’s looking for revenge. David is limping but he’s still trying to hit Ray with everything he has.

Ray dodges Judie and rises his racquet to crash David like a bug.

Jiro throws Ray to the ground with a full body check, and the moment Jiro is in the mist, so is Theo.

“I said stop! The next one to move a finger will be benched for the entire season!”

The coach is back on his feet. Harry is by his side, acting as his cane. Josten’s face is red, his scars appear white in contrasts.

No one is moving.

“Now. All of you, up. Go run in a fucking circle until I tell you to stop.”

“But it was Ray who…”

“I don’t want to hear it, Judie! GO!”

More than one mouth mumbles its discontent, but everyone obeys. Ray obeys too. He doesn’t know how serious the threat is, but he knows that big number on the check is only worth something as long as he plays. He can’t afford to be benched.

They keep running and running, long after the others have been sent to change. Coach Josten is staring at them in deep thought.

When Minyard finally comes down at the court, the two of them talk for a while. Josten shakes his head sadly more than once.

Ray knows what he’s saying: “That one is a disaster. Even if he’s a good player, we can’t control him. He’s going to ruin everything. We’ve got to send him back. We will take the money back from his uncle.”

And uncle will be so mad, he will finally kill his useless nephew.

“Alright. That’s enough. Go get changed, and… for the love of God, try not to kill each other.”

In the locker room everyone is quiet.

Cedric, already changed in his comfy clothes, and he has been waiting for them on one of the benches.

When Minyard comes in, his eyes find his golden boy first. After making sure that Cedric is not having one of his fits, Minyard continues to Ray.

“Hey. Do you want to talk about what happened out there?”

Ray is never scared when Minyard and Josten come near, and that is a problem. Cause if fear doesn’t freeze him, then anger takes over.

Ray spits.

Minyard looks down at his shirt, and the saliva hanging on the fabric.

“Stop it!” David yells. “Why do you do that?! I hate you! You’re horrible!” The kid is shaking, and oh… yeah, he’s crying now.

Ray just doesn’t understand how David can cry like that and not combust in shame.

Minyard goes to him and tries to calm him down. Then he urges everyone out of the room, and him and Ray are alone.

“If you don’t feel like talking, that’s ok. We will talk later. How about we show you the surprise, now? Me, Neil, and the handyman worked hard on it all day. Do you want to see it?”

Ray is dying to see it, but he knows that question is a trap. If he were to say yes, Minyard would laugh and he would tell him that the surprise was never for him, or that now that he ruined everything, they were going to throw the surprise away.

So, Ray decides to say nothing.

“Let’s go, then.” Minyard opens the door.

The others are all waiting in the hallway with Josten, and Ray wonders why they waited for him.

“Are you ready, kids?” Josten asks as he opens the way for the second floor. He looks weirdly enthusiastic. “We can always change something if you don’t like it, but I think you’re going to be excited.”

The walk up the stairs is excruciatingly slow, and everyone is pretending to not be bothered by Josten slowing everyone down.

When they finally arrive at the secured area, Josten is smiling so much it looks creepy. Minyard is not smiling, but somehow Ray feels his excitement too.

They pass over the coaches’ rooms, but they don’t continue all the way to the kid’s bedroom. They stop sooner. In front of the laundry room. The only thing is… hanging on the door of the laundry room there’s a wooden sign that reads: Cedric.

The group of children turns to single out the chosen one. Cedric is looking distraught, confused… like he has no idea what’s going on and he does not like to be at the center of attention.

Minyard offers his hand, and the kid takes it. They both approach the door.

Ray has no idea why everyone is holding their breath. It’s just a laundry room. Why did they put Cedric’s name on it? Will he be in charge of the laundry from now on? Is that the surprise? They all get chores?

Ray is right in front of the group when the door is opened.

There are no washing machines in the laundry room. There is a bed under the window. The blanket covering the mattress is an explosion of colorful flowers. Over the pillow there’s a dinosaur plushie. There’s a wooden desk in the corner, it’s small, but the chair in front of it looks cozy. There are mugs on the desk filled with colored pencils and markers. There’s a shelf over the desk with lots of papers, notebooks, and jigsaw puzzles. The wardrobe crammed next to the desk is hazelnut brown, one of the doors is a full-sized mirror.

At the foot of the bed there’s a chest of drawers and over it there’s… a mini-fridge?

Ray cannot believe what he’s seeing. The light is so warm in there. The carpet on the floor must be so soft.

Cedric is still like a statue at the edge of the door. Minyard is holding his hand and talking softly to him, explaining everything they built, and how it’s all for him. All of it.

Cedric hides his face in the man’s side and starts crying.

Ray has never hated someone like he hates Cedric. Of course, the surprise is for him. The golden boy. The coaches’ favorite.

The fucking bed wetter gets the price. For doing what? He’s a shitty player and a crybaby.

When Cedric finally gathers the courage to explore his new room, everyone else pretends to be happy for him. Some of the others follow inside and start giving a look around.

Ray doesn’t want to find out how amazing Cedric’s private room is. He just wants to punch him in the mouth and break a couple of his teeth.

“Let’s have a look at the big room, now,” Josten announces after an eternally long time.

Yes. Let’s look at the big room. Ray knows he will not get anything because the coaches hate him, and they have probably already decided to send him away. Ray just hopes he will get to keep the blanket.

The kids are too excited to wait behind Josten’s limping. They run ahead and slam the door open.

Ray is containing himself. He’s walking slowly, same as Melody. He knows when he gets there, he’ll see that everyone has received a few nice treats, except him. And they would all look at him and laugh, because they all know Ray will not get anything because he’s horrible.

Before he reaches the door, Ray can already hear the excited shrieks of David and Sadie. But when he gets there, every sound gets muted.

The big room is not so big anymore. A giant wooden wall has cut out more than a third of the space. On the wooden wall there are two doors. On the first one there’s a sign that reads “Melody”.

The second one reads “Ray”.

The boy registers the changes in the big room only with half a mind: the two bunk beds, the desks, the giant tv in the corner…

He cannot take his eyes away from the sign that says “Ray”.

For a long moment he doesn’t understand what’s going on, but then he gets it. It’s a joke. They made Cedric’s room so nice so that Melody and Ray would also expect to find something nice behind those doors, but Ray knows better. There is probably going to be nothing on the other side. Or a kennel. Yes, a dog kennel. Uncle already played this joke on Ray, which is good, because now he expects it.

At his side, Melody is equally frozen, equally ready for a trap.

“C’mon, you two. Come see your rooms.” Josten passes them and goes to Melody’s door first.

“But coach!” Judie whines. “Why do they get a room for themselves? It’s not fair! I want one too!”

Judie is so fucking stupid. How does she not realize this is not real? She’s gotten a bunk bed with her dark blanket full of stars and two giant towers of plastic containers filled with toys. What more does she fucking want?

“I’m sorry, Judie, we don’t have enough space to give each of you a singular room.”

That doesn’t explain why the other two singular rooms were given to Melody and Ray.

Mel decides she has enough of this joke and walks ahead to open her door. She looks unimpressed as she does this. Somehow, when the room on the other side is revealed to be real, she manages to show nothing on her face.

Josten doesn’t seem to care, though. He walks into the tiny bedroom to give her the tour. It looks like Cedric’s place, but starker, less soft. Melody has a big cupboard next to the bed, and Neil shows with much pride how it’s empty on the inside but padded. There are air holes on the top and sides, and there’s a latch on the inside, for when Melody needs a place to hide.

That last part seems weird. Why would Melody need to hide in a cupboard?

She also got a small safe, to keep her important belongings in.

Melody says nothing to any of this.

“Alright. I’ll leave you to it,” at this point, even Josten seems uncomfortable with the silence. As soon as he leaves the room, Melody shuts the door on the other side. Ray can hear a key turning inside a lock.

“Ray? Don’t you want to have a look?” Minyard asks. And even if he’s not smiling, Ray can still see the smirk. The trap is just for Ray, then. They would think that, for sure, at this point he would believe that his room must be real too.

Ray is not that stupid.

When he approaches the door, he is ready with a plan. When he reveals what’s on the other side, whatever it is, he will laugh. He will tell them he knew all along that it wasn’t real.

But when the boy opens the door, the laugh gets stuck in his throat.

It’s not just pretty like Cedric’s room, it’s better.

His yarn blanket is covering a big comfy bed, and above that there’s a long shelf showing all the toys he had so much as looked at the other day: models of planes, robots, remote control cars, firetrucks...

Minyard gets inside and opens the wardrobe. There are so many clean clothes in there. And shoes, there are shoes too.

On the desk there’s a basket with the small toys Betsy gave him, and over the desk there’s a Jeremy Knox poster with one of the mottos of his team: “Playing Fair, Playing Strong”.

Ray is feeling dizzy. He doesn’t understand where the joke is. What’s the catch?

Minyard is still talking, and Ray can’t hear a single word. He must be explaining something about the lights, because he’s showing how the lamp works.

“So? What do you say?”

Ray doesn’t say anything. He feels very small and very lost. He just wants this to be over. He wants them to hurry already and reveal the truth, so Ray can stop hoping, because the longer they wait, the more it will hurt.

“Can’t you at least say thank you?” This is Judie. She got into the room who knows when, and now she is looking at Ray with… rage.

“He doesn’t need to say thank you,” Minyard replies.

“Yes, he does! It’s basic manners!” It’s not like Judie to talk back like that, and the confusion for that outburst is showing on the coach’s face.

“Judie…”

“It’s not fair! He hits us and insults us all the time! And he gets a prize for it?! Why does he deserve to have a room and not me?! Why does nobody ever care about me?”

Judie’s lower lip starts quivering. Her eyes fill with tears.

Ray wants to disappear because he knows she’s right. He doesn’t deserve this room.

“Judie, it’s not about deserving…” Minyard looks lost on how to explain this. Josten makes his entrance too and asks what’s going on.

Others push to peek at this crisis and Ray feels more and more naked.

In a heartbeat they all support Judie. They all agree Ray doesn’t deserve anything.

The boy can feel his throat getting tighter, he knows there’s a serious risk he might cry in a bit, and he knows they will all laugh at him then. Ray clenches his teeth, he shuts his eyes. He doesn’t know how to rein in the tears just like he doesn’t know how to rein in anger and fear.

“Judie, that’s enough.”

“NO! It’s not fair! We are all thinking that it’s not fair!” Judie turns, her cheeks puff with rage, and looking straight down at Ray she says: “Nobody wants you here!”

It’s one of those moments when Ray doesn’t think, but anger moves him anyway. He punches her, hard. The impact makes a sickening noise, and then Judie is on the ground.

There are screams. Anger gets even bigger, and Ray moves to kick, but something grabs him. It’s coach Minyard.

Minyard, who never touches any of them, is grabbing him now, holding him with a painful grip.

“Judie!” Coach Josten half falls to the ground to check on the girl. Her eyes are closed and she’s not responding. There’s blood on her cheek and nose.

Anger has fled now, leaving only the cold grip of fear.

Has Ray just done something unforgivable?

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Judie… Hey…” Coach Josten slaps her lightly until her eyes hatch open. There’s a collective sigh of relief, followed by the girl’s soft cries.

“Help me up.” Josten asks to no one in particular, and Harry is ready by his side. “I’ll take you to the infirmary. It’s ok. It was just a big fright. You’re ok.”

Somehow the coach manages to pick up the girl and he starts to slowly move out the door.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” Jiro looks astonished.

David is right behind him: “Yeah! Judie is right! We don’t want you here! You’re just a big bully!”

Anger moves again, it wants to hurt as much as it can, but that hand is still holding him.

Ray looks up while Minyard is looking down. The man looks… tired. Tired with all of Ray’s bullshit, and he’s probably thinking that he doesn’t want to do this anymore.

He’s thinking that Judie is right. That it was a mistake to ever give Ray anything, because he never deserves it. He’s thinking that he will take everything away.

Yes. That had been the plan all along. Give him everything Ray could ever wish for and then take it away.

Well, he will not fall for it. If they want to take it back, then so be it. If they want to send him back to uncle, then Ray will kill the man before he can be killed.

When Ray tries to get free a second time, Minyard’s hand is still holding him tight. It’s the last straw. A fire explodes: it’s a mix between anger and fear that turns the boy into a beast.

The sudden need to be let go is overwhelming, Ray attacks the coach with everything: nails, punches, teeth…

Minyard lets go and tries to keep him away from his body. He’s saying something, but Ray can’t recognize words.

He bites his arm and the coach grunts in pain. A hand on the boy’s forehead pushes his head back, and another hand takes a hold of his wrists. Ray is trapped again; panic is possessing him.

“I will let go of you now, but you have to stop!”

The hands actually let go, but Ray doesn’t stop. He doesn’t dare approach directly again, so he frantically looks around for a weapon. He knows he must look like uncle when he does that. He must look like uncle when he grabs the chair at the desk and throws it towards the coach.

It’s just like what mom said when she left: Ray is just like uncle, and just like his dad, and all the other men that had hurt mom in the past.

Even if the chair is as big as he is, Ray finds the strength to make it fly like a bullet.  

The coach grunts again when he’s hit but he doesn’t look otherwise too bothered. On the contrary, he keeps the chair in front of himself and uses it as a barrier against Ray.

Even if he can’t reach him, Ray can still hurt. He jumps on the bed and takes the toys on the shelf, one by one. He throws them against the wall, against the floor, against the coach and the children gawking at him losing his mind.

If some of them survive the first impact, Ray smashes them again until there’s only tiny bits left. His hands are bleeding, but he doesn’t feel any pain.

“Don’t!” Minyard yells.

Ray thinks he’s trying to stop him from throwing the lamp against the mirror, but it’s Jiro who stops. Their shitty captain had been about to walk into the room like he wanted to do something.

“Everyone out! Don’t touch him!”

Yes, don’t touch him. He has rabies. He’s dirty and smelly, and he will kill you.  

Ray sees the other children retreat and he hates them. He hates them all. He wishes they were all dead. He wishes everyone in the whole world was dead, and then he would be dead too.

He follows the kids in the main room, but no one tries to engage with him. So, Ray goes for their things. He throws the tv to the ground and he takes great satisfaction in Theo’s whine of dismay.

He kicks the wardrobes, he throws the chairs against the walls, he grabs the toys…

Sadie shrikes and it sounds so much like mom’s voice that Ray stops.

He looks down at his hand and finds Sadie’s doll in his grip. The head is bent, the left eye has fallen out of its socket.

“Why did you do that?” Sadie asks, so lost and small, like she’s genuinely confused. “I never did anything to you.”

Ray hates her. He hates that she believes being a good little girl should be enough to shield her from bad things happening to her.

Minyard is there by her side in an instant. He’s on his knees. “Ray is not trying to hurt you. He just needs a moment, now. Let’s give him some more space. Can you all go down to Judie and Neil?”

They obey. Even Melody leaves without any snarky remarks.

Ray watches them go. Watches the door being closed.

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand anything.

He looks down at his hands again, the doll destroyed and that soft voice asking “Why did you do that?”

Those tears refuse to be held back any longer. Ray falls on his knees. He’s sobbing like a baby, he’s pathetic.

He holds the doll close to his chest and he hears that question over and over in his mind… why did you do that?

But Ray doesn’t know the answer.

Ray is on the floor. The broken doll is on the floor with him. The tears are gone, there are only the streak signs on his face. Ray should make an effort to hide them, but what would be the point?

It’s been a long time since the others left. Coach Minyard is still the only one in the room.

He’s not looking at Ray, he’s looking down at a metal box he brought in a bit earlier.

Ray doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t know anything at all.

The kid finally drags himself in a sitting position and that’s when Minyard looks at him. There are three red lines on his neck. Ray doesn’t remember scratching him there, but when he’s so out of it he doesn’t remember much of what he does.

Minyard gets up from the other side of the room and starts walking slowly towards the boy.

Ray’s body tenses. It makes no sense for Minyard to hit him now, but his body is still expecting it.

The coach senses some of his fear, and he decides to stop some steps further. He crouches with a sigh, and he opens his metal box.

There’s a medical kit in there, with also duct tape and glue.

“Let’s take care of your hands first. This is disinfectant. Give me your hands, I will pour some of it over the cuts. Then I will put a couple of bend-aids on them. Are you ok with that?”

Ray doesn’t answer, he just puts his hands forward.

“I’m sorry, kid. It wasn’t nice how I grabbed you earlier. I was scared for Judie, but I still should have handled it better.”

Ray is so tired to wait for the catch. Living with his uncle was horrible but at least then he understood what was going on.

After Minyard is done with the medication, he asks for Sadie’s doll. He takes out the bandages from the kit and he covers the broken eye with a quick dressing.

“There are no mistakes so big that you can’t correct them,” Minyard says.

Ray knows that’s not true, but he doesn’t say it.

“We will fix this mess together now. Help me with the tv.”

Ray is too stunned to think. He just does what he’s asked. Together they put the tv back on its stand. They go back in Ray’s room, and they start picking up toys. The glue and the tape can fix some of the wounds.

Ray makes a suffering sound for the Jeremy Knox poster. He doesn’t remember tearing it, but he must have done it.

Coach Minyard is especially careful in taping it back together.

Ray can’t handle this anymore. He sits down on the bed; he can feel the yarn under his fingers. “Are you going to send me away, now? Tell me the truth. Please.”  

Minyard makes a pained expression. He places the last toy truck on the shelf and then he sits next to Ray.

“Why would I lie?”

“So that I will hope, and… you will laugh because I hoped.”

Minyard looks very serious. Ray can’t actually imagine that man laughing.

“I have done many bad things in my life, but I have never hurt someone for my own enjoyment, and I’m not about to start now with you. We are not going to send you away, and I’m telling the truth.”

Ray looks down at his shoes. He’s had the same pair for more than a year now. His toes hurt every time he runs or jumps. And there are so many new shoes in the wardrobe.

“Is the room actually for me?”

Minyard blinks, like he thinks that’s a stupid question. “Yes.”

“But you will take it away when I misbehave.”

“You horrendously misbehaved just an hour ago. It’s still your room and your things.”

Your room and your things. Nothing makes sense. “Why? Judie is right. I don’t deserve it, and no one wants me here.”

“I want you here. Neil wants you here.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I don’t lie.”

“You don’t like me! No one likes me! I don’t like myself! My own mother doesn’t want to have anything do to with me! Why would you want me to stay here?”

“Do you want to leave?”

Ray stops. He knows revealing anything of his wants and needs is like handling a weapon to an enemy. Still, he grits his teeth and he admits it: “No.”

“Then I want you to stay.”

“W-what? Just cause I want it? And… what? If I never want to leave, you will keep me forever?”

“Yes.”

Ray is speechless. For a moment he actually believes that. But it can’t be true. It makes no sense. But it makes even less sense to lie.

“I- Why? I’m horrible.”

“You’re not horrible. You are… out of control, and that is horrible. I know how it feels to have your emotions take control of you. And if you want to stay here, I can teach you how to be the one in control of them. Is that something that you would be interested in learning?”

Ray looks down at his shoes again. He is so scared right now, because he truly wants to believe the coach is telling the truth.

“And if I learn that, you will keep me forever?”

“You don’t have to do anything for us to keep you. As long as you want to stay, you stay. That is not something you need to earn in anyway, and it’s not a privilege that can be taken away. From the first day in the locker room, when I saw your bruises, it was never in our plans to send you back. I thought… you were already aware of that. Cedric is also staying.”

“Cedric… why?”

Minyard doesn’t answer. His mouth shuts and it doesn’t look like it could open again anytime soon.

Ray understands then that Cedric has an uncle of his own. The boy cannot even imagine his silent peer in the same room as his uncle. He would have been turned into pieces at the first shy look.

“Is that why you gave us the rooms? Me, Cedric and Melody? Are we the ones that get to stay?”

“Everyone who wants to stay can stay. The rooms are not about that. The three of you are… under more stress then the others. What I want to teach you, about being in control, it starts with having a safe space. This is your safe space. There is a lock at the door, and you can turn the key every time you need to be alone. When you feel like you are about to lose control, you can come in here. You can throw the toys and kick the walls as much as you like, but there’s still a measure of control in deciding to come here and hitting things instead of people.”

“And if I can’t do that… if I can’t learn to control myself, can I still stay?”

“Yes.”

Ray wonders if he’s playing his luck by pushing the matter again. “Can I ask another question?”

“I will tell you every time you need to hear it that you can stay. So yes, you can ask another question.”

“If my uncle comes here, and says I have to go back with him…”

“Is your uncle the one who hurts you?”

Ray is taken aback by the intensity of the question. He shrugs. “Sometimes, yes.”

“Meaning there are others? Or meaning he occasionally has the grace to not hurt you?”

“Some of his friends come over, sometimes, but they are usually too drunk to do anything.”

Minyard shuts his mouth again. It’s usually hard to read his expression, but this time Ray is sure the man is boiling with rage. Has Ray said the wrong thing?

“And… Ray, when you’re talking about them hurting you, what are you referring to, exactly?”

The boy shrugs again. He doesn’t like to talk about this, in fact… he has never talked about this with anyone. But he doesn’t feel like he can avoid the question. “My uncle uses the belt a lot. He says that’s how he was raised. Or a stick. Or… whatever he can find around to throw at me. He chased me with a hammer once, but he was too drunk to catch me, and… when he passed out, I hid the hammer and then he got angry about that, so he peed on my bed.”

“He- he peed on your bed?”

“Yeah, but I usually slept in the barn anyway, because I could always hear him coming from there.”

The coach still looks enraged, but a sort of confused rage. “And there’s nothing else? At night? Did he… touch you? Or one of his friends?”

Ray isn’t sure what he’s supposed to answer. “He could never hit me while I slept, I always woke up first.”

Minyard looks relieved, so Ray must have given the correct answer.

“And your mom?”

“My mom?”

“You talked a lot about your uncle, but you mentioned your mom earlier. What happened to her?”

“She left.” Ray decides to feel nothing about it, like uncle told him he should. “She said I hit her one too many times. She said me and uncle deserved each other.”

The coach’s anger grows cold. “That is not true.”

“I did hit her.” Ray’s voice shakes on that admission. “I made her cry.”

“It was never your job to take care of her. She was your mother, she was supposed to keep you safe, and she left you in the hands of a man who she knew would hurt you. She deserves nothing from you, not even you calling her mother.”

Ray shrinks on himself. He can’t possibly think anything bad of his mom.

“You didn’t answer my question, Coach. If my uncle comes here and says that I have to go with him…”

“Me and Neil will give him back what he has done to you a hundred times. You’re not going anywhere. Especially not with him.”

It takes a while before one of them speaks again. Ray is still trying to grasp if he believes all of this or not.

“Ray? We should go downstairs now. You should apologize to Judie.”

Ray doesn’t want to do that. Everyone will think he’s a pussy if he apologizes.

“Do I really have to?”

“It’s not an order. I can’t force you to do anything, I’m just saying it’s for the best that you apologize. You hit her when she presented no threat to you, and you know that’s wrong. I know saying sorry is not easy. Trust me, I do. But you gotta learn how to do that if you want to keep people in your life.”

“Tsk, I don’t care about those-”

“Yes, you do. And it’s normal that you do. It’s normal and healthy. And you will feel so much happiness when you will finally feel part of a group, I promise you. But it all starts with apologizing. So? What do you say?”

Ray sighs. He doesn’t really trust coach Minyard to know better, but… Ray does feel bad about hitting her. He had been so scared when she had been on the ground, unconscious. And he still feels so guilty about ruining Sadie’s doll.

Ray knows if his uncle was anywhere close, he would never dare to say the word sorry, because he knows that uncle’s laugh would soon follow.

But in this place, and in this time, uncle is beginning to feel further, and further away.

Chapter Text

Neil hadn’t known he still had the strength to pick up a child until he saw Judie lying on the floor with a bloodied nose.

Now in the infirmary, leaving Judie on the doctor’s bed, Neil feels iron flowing in his veins, keeping him steady, anchored to the ground like a tree.

“What happened?” that turtle of a doctor asks.

Neil sees him putting on gloves, and his mind forms the most disturbing pictures of what those hands might have done in the past. That man is a doctor working for the Moriyamas. How likely is it that he knows how to kill and torture as much as he knows how to heal?

“Leave it. Don’t touch her. I’ll take care of it.”

The man has a condescending sound for Neil, but he steps back.

During the few seconds Neil had kept his eyes on the doctor, Judie has curled up in a ball, giving her back to her coach.

“Judie…” Neil doesn’t know what to say. Her outburst earlier had been so unexpected. “Judie, just… let me see your nose.”

The girl takes a moment to uncurl, and a longer moment to turn to Neil. Her eyes are still swollen from crying and, not only is her nose still bleeding, but one of her cheeks is also turning red.

Neil grabs a cloth and places a hand to the back of the girl’s head. His mind immediately goes back. He’s been on that bed, with his nose bleeding, his eyes swelling… His mother had clutched his hair in an iron grip to keep him still while she cleaned the mess.

Neil almost takes his hand back. He’s barely touching Judie’s thick braids, but he can see himself grabbing her…

“I don’t…” Neil shouldn’t be doing this. Andrew. Andrew should do it.

He looks back, expecting to see his shadow by his side, as always, but behind him there’s only the awful figure of the turtle doctor.

Andrew is taking care of Ray right now. He can’t take care of Ray and Neil at the same time. Neil shouldn’t need taking care of anyway.

One of Neil’s hands touches the girl’s head, and the other pats the cloth with as much gentleness as Neil is capable.

“I-is this ok? Am I hurting you?”

Judie is far from her usual smiling self, but at least an expression different from despair creeps in. “Are you afraid of blood? You look like you are going to be sick.”

“I just… don’t want to hurt you.”

The expression hardens, and Judie pushes Neil’s hand away. “I’m not that weak.”

Neil’s fears have nothing to do with how weak Judie might or might not be. But of course she is going to interpret his words like they were completely revolving around her. That is what happened with the rooms as well. She is still a child, still interpreting the world as if every word and every action don’t have any deeper meaning that what is directly connected to her.

“I know you’re not weak. But…” When Neil doesn’t know how to finish the sentence, Judie retreats again in a curled-up ball. “Judie…”

“I just want someone to care for me too. For once.”

Those words are more painful then Neil can handle. For a moment, he doesn’t even remember how to breathe.

Judie is still giving him her back. “I know you’re just my Exy coach, and I shouldn’t care that you have favorites, but I’m so tired of never being anyone’s favorite. My mom and dad barely remember they have a third child. And they were ecstatic to know I would be sent here for a very long time. Like they couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”

“Oh.” Neil remembers meeting Judie’s parents. He had thought nothing of them, but first impressions can be very deceiving; maybe they were horrible. “I’m sorry, kid. Parents are the worst.”

Judie turns ever so slightly to send her coach a confused look. “Shouldn’t you be telling me that I misunderstood? That they were just happy for me because this is a big opportunity?”

“I don’t know… were they?”

Judie goes back in her ball. “I don’t know.”

“Judie, listen to me. I don’t have any favorites. And if I did, you think Ray would be my favorite? Nine times out of ten I want to shove him down a flight of stairs.”

This at least has the effect of uncurling the girl again. She looks suspicious though. “Really? Then why does he get a private bedroom?”

“Because he needs it. Look. I know Ray can be awful. Sometimes children, no… people can be awful. They can be monsters. But there’s always a reason why people turn into monsters. And for an adult those reasons might be buried so deep that you could never even see them, let alone untangle them. But for children those reasons are still very close. And… if they are close, that means that if you stop and observe for a second, you might get to see where those awful things stem from. You know?”

By the look Judie is giving him, it doesn’t seem like she knows, but at least she is actively looking at him and listening.

“Ray needs a place where he can feel safe, because the place where he comes from has not been safe for him at all. And the same goes for Melody and Cedric.”

Judie looks down and mutters a soft ok.  

She’s a smart and kind little girl, and Neil feels awful knowing that she’s been feeling forgotten. “I swear I’ll get you the most awesome room there is. I-I don’t know where to put it yet, but…”

“I don’t actually care, Coach.” Judie pushes herself into a sitting position. Her eyes are dry now, but the redness around her nose is starting to turn into a soft purple. “I’d feel alone in my own room, actually. I was just upset, that’s all. Cause… Harry and Sadie like each other best, and David and Jiro like each other best, and Theo doesn’t want anything to do with anyone who isn’t Jiro. So now in the big room it’s me who’s everyone’s least favorite. At least with Mel and Ray around I was sure someone was going to be more annoying than me.”

An unsure smile makes an appearance on her face, like she’s just joking, but Neil isn’t too sure she is.

Neil is about to reply, probably about to say the wrong thing, when the girl goes back to her hiding. “I want to rest a bit now. My face hurts.”

Neil hums in response. He grabs a chair and sits next to the bed, creating a wall between the girl and the turtle doctor.

It takes a long time for the man to get the clue and leave the two of them alone. It takes an even longer time for the door of the infirmary to open again.

Andrew and Ray are on the entrance, and behind them the whole team is stretching necks to get a look of Judie.

Andrew pats Ray on the back, and the boy steps forward.

“Judie,” Neil calls, and the girl turns to see who’s here.

Ray loses what he was about to say when he notices the mess on Judie’s face. The swelling is worse now, purple is definitely taking over, and her cheek is bloated like a peach.

The children in the hallway begin to whisper among themselves.

“What do you want?” Judie ignores the group outside to focus on the little asshole in front of her.

Ray drops his gaze. If Neil had ever thought the boy could not be salvaged, that moment changes his mind; when, with obvious shame dripping from his voice, Ray mutters the words I’m sorry.

The other children swarm the place right after that. Harry and Sadie jump on Judie’s bed, they hug her. David soon follows, while Jiro inquires after Judie’s health from a distance. Cedric doesn’t throw himself in the middle of the swarm, but he does try to get closer to the bed by sneaking along the wall.

Theo is in the circle as well, if only because Jiro is.

And Meloy.

Neil looks back. Melody is far away already, leaving like she doesn’t care if anyone notices. Or thinking that no one will anyway.

Neil wakes up in excruciating pain.

His old instincts immediately kick in. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe. Where is he? Is the wound bleeding? Where is the nearest exist?

He blinks in frozen terror. The room is dark, the air is comfortably fresh.

Pain is pulsing like a giant drum. It’s so intense, Neil can’t tell where the wound is.

He blinks one more time, and shapes start to appear in the dark. He can make out the outline of a table, chairs, and the shape of a body lying next to him.

Neil instinctively tenses before recognizing Andrew’s smell.

It’s Andrew sleeping next to him. They are not in danger; they are in their room at the Eyrie Court. It was just a nightmare. There is no wound, Neil is just imagining things.

But the pain is still there.

Neil takes a small breath. The tiny movement of his chest sends sparks of agony down his torso, down his waist.

There is a wound. Neil has to move; he has to see how deep the damage goes.

Pulling himself into a sitting position almost makes him throw up. He moves sheets and blankets with shaky fingers to reveal the pool of blood.

There is no blood.

With every passing moment, Neil is more and more awake. His eyes have completely gotten used to the dark. They see the pulsing center of the pain in the floating nothingness beneath the amputation.

Neil’s knee is hurting. The knee that’s no longer there.

It’s hurting like it’s being perforated right this very moment.

“Fuck.” Neil’s voice is a whisper, but that’s enough to stir the sleeping man next to him.

“Neil? Did you have a nightmare?”

Neil puts sheets and blankets back in their place. “No. It’s alright.”

He drops his head on the pillow and closes his eyes. It’s just phantom pain. The physiotherapists warned him that he might get those. Or that he might not. Many amputees never have it. Some get a bothersome ache for a little while. And a small portion of amputees get excruciating pain.

Of course Neil must belong to the last category. Of course.

He tries to force himself back to sleep. It’s not actual pain after all. Nothing is bleeding. Neither internally nor externally. No bone is broken.

Andrew puts one arm around Neil’s chest, and the slight pressure somehow causes another shot of agony.

Neil tenses involuntarily, clenches his teeth and braces himself for the next wave.

Andrew must be able to sense all of that. He rises his head. “No?”

Neil doesn’t want to say no to Andrew being close. Ever.

“Just… Gently.”

Gentle touches don’t come natural to either of them, but Andrew doesn’t need any more prompting to decrease the pressure.

Neil closes his eyes and tries to relax.

It’s not real, he tries to convince his brain. There is no wound to stitch or cauterize, nothing he actually needs to worry about.

It’s just pain for the sake of pain. What a useless concept.

Andrew’s breathing gets deeper again. Neil can’t sleep. He blinks into the dark again. He’s stuck.

Fuck.

His knee hurts so badly.

The alarm rings at seven o’ clock. Andrew yawns and stretches himself like a cat. He then crawls out of bed and drags his body to the kitchen to prepare coffee.

Neil’s pain is like construction background noise at this point. Annoying. So fucking annoying, but Neil can live with it.

He can even pull himself into a sitting position.

As soon as he manages this gargantuan task, his phone starts ringing. Reaching the damn thing gives him a tinge of agony, and reading the name of the caller gives him a different type of agony.

Neil answers with a nervous: “Hello? This is Neil.”

“Yeah. I know. I called you. Idiot.” Aaron replies.

“I thought… maybe you called the wrong number?”

“I called the right number. I’m about to start my shift, I don’t have much time. I want to talk to you.”

Neil whines internally, then he decides he wants to voice his feelings, and whines externally. “Why?”

“Look. I know we’ve never been on the best of terms, but we’re both grown adults, right? And it’s important for Andrew that we try to connect.”

Is it? Does Andrew actually care if Neil and Aaron hate each other or not? He did say that Neil and his brother need to spend time together, but that was just revenge for having to spend time with Katelyn.

“Well. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Aaron sighs in annoyance, then his breath gets deeper, and it sounds like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Neil, listen. I am grateful that… you are in my brother’s life. I’m grateful for everything that you did for him, and I’m grateful that you’ve been there for him when I wasn’t. I’m jealous, yes, but I’m also grateful.”

Neil has no idea how to answer. He has never anticipated hearing Aaron say something like that.

“Listen, Neil. Let’s just meet for a coffee. Let’s pretend it’s the first time we see each other. I’m sure if we started all over again, we’d have the maturity now to make it work.”

Neil is tempted to disagree, just for the sake of being a little shit. But Aaron’s voice sounds so honest, and Neil’s leg is hurting so badly, that all Neil can muster is ok, alright, to then press the red button on the phone.

Neil’s mind lingers on that conversation for a few seconds, and then his attention is stolen again by the pulsing pain.

“Neil?”

“What?”

“You’ve been staring at the wall for five minutes.”

And so what? So what if he wants to stare at the wall for five minutes?

Neil drags his gaze to his other half. He’s not sure he can play the part of a living human this morning.

“Are you ok? You look…” Andrew takes a moment to assess Neil’s form, “…like shit. Do you need help with the leg?”

Yes. Neil needs to have it sawed off, even though it has already been sawed off, and it’s still fucking hurting anyway.

The grunt he emits in response is enough for Andrew to come to his side.

He moves the blankets, and Neil is surprised again to see that the source of his pain is inexplicably missing.

Andrew grabs the special sock that goes around Neil’s stump, and he starts to put it on. Then it’s the turn of the prosthetic leg, and now Neil is ready to go.

“There’s something you should see,” Andrew says, watching Neil struggling to get to his feet.

“What?” Neil grunts in response.

Andrew endures the pathetic show of Neil failing to pull himself up for a little less then a minute, then he decides he’s had enough of it, and he goes to grab the wheelchair.

Neil is almost about to protest, when a new wave hits him. He finds himself on the court again, the striker from the opposing team running into him, the angle of his racquet completely screwed. Neil can feel his knee shuttering.

“Neil!” Andrew rushes to his side.

Neil never cries out in pain, if not for the conscious choice of wanting to complain. But this is different. Neil cannot contain soft moans of pain, and that, for some reason, makes his heart rate jump through the roof.

“What’s wrong? What’s hurting?”

Neil mutters the word leg, and Andrew starts unfastening the prosthetics as fast as he can. He removes the sock and lifts the stump like he’s looking for an actual wound.

“It’s just… in my mind.” Neil tries to brush the whole thing off with a wave of his hand, but his teeth are still clenched.

“You’re having phantom pain?” Andrew asks, and somehow, he sounds angry, like it’s Neil’s fault. But every negative emotion that Andrew experiences will first converge into anger, so Neil has learned not to immediately assume he’s in trouble. “Lie down. I’ll call your doctor.”

“Call the doctor for what? I’m just imagining things.”

“Lie down and shut up.” Andrew has a phone glued to his ear in a second.

“I’m calling on the account of Josten. It’s been three months since his amputation, and he’s experiencing phantom pain. No, it’s not bearable pain... No, you’re not talking to him... Cause you’re talking to me right now… Are you an actual doctor or are you just cosplaying one? Just tell me which painkiller would work... I-… He’s in pain. What’s so hard to understand here? Wh-… Antidepressants? What the fuck are antidepressants supposed to do here? You haven’t even visited him and you already want to fuck up his brain with your garbage pills?! Are you… No. I said no. Fuck you.”

Andrew hangs up the call and immediately composes a new number.

“Do I need to change doctor again?” Neil asks, but Andrew is already occupied in a new conversation.

“Aaron… yeah, I sure hope you’re working, you’re a doctor. Listen, I need to know which painkillers work with phantom pain… Wh-why wouldn’t they work?” Andrew listens to the explanation for a long time in stony silence. “I don’t fucking see the connection between depression and phantom pain. I think you guys just like to shake a brain like a fucking maracas when you don’t know how to solve a problem, like that’s going to magically solve anything… Whatever. I- just go back to work, I don’t care.”

Andrew throws his phone on the bed. His anger is palpable. He speaks without looking at Neil: “He said opioids might also work.”

Neil twists his lips. “I don’t like that shit.”

“I know.”

“I’m ok, Andrew. Really. I think it’ll go away on its own. It’s already hurting less than last night.”

That palpable anger is now a physical object that hits Neil at full force when Andrew looks his way. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”

“What’s the point of sharing made up pain?”

“It’s not made up if you are feeling it. Just cause it’s your brain conjuring the pain and not your body, doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

Neil doesn’t really agree. The whole reason why pain exists is so you know when your body needs fixing.

“I think I’ll just… use the wheelchair today.”

The anger dissipates, and Neil can finally see the real emotion that was hiding behind it. Andrew is worried. And Neil request has probably doubled that feeling.

But Andrew doesn’t lose a beat. He takes some comfy shorts and a shirt, and he kneels in front of the bed to help Neil get dressed.

“I’m going to help you on the wheelchair now.”

Neil finds himself using an old trick he had as a kid. He keeps his tongue pressed on the back of his throat with as much strength as he can. Not a noise or a breath escapes him this way.

When Neil drops on the seat he sees blue splotches in his vision, but they’re all gone very fast.

“Do you want the prosthetic?”

Neil looks down at his severed leg. With those shorts the stump is completely visible, and what if it freaks out the kids?

“Yeah.”

Andrew gets to work again, putting the sock on, hooking the prosthetic… all with a gentleness Neil finds alien and almost unsettling.

“What did you want to show me?” Neil asks.

“What?”

“You said there was something I should see.”

“Oh.” Andrew grabs his phone again and opens the news tab. “Last night, the Exy Committee for the little league made the lists of this year’s tournament public. People have been freaking out all night since your name showed up among the coaches, and we have a Day and a Moriyama in the team.”

Neil takes the phone and scrolls down the many articles on the feed.

Neil Josten back in a new position, from striker prodigy to little league coach!

A new team is on the little league scene: are the Hatchlings going to fly on their first season?

Kevin Day refused to comment on any possible relationship between him and mysterious David Day (8 years old).

David Day and Jiro Moriyama. A new generation of Exy royals is on his way?

Where is Andrew Minyard? Fans speculate where he might show up next.

The devastating end to the career of a genius: what happened to Neil Josten?

First game between the Hatchlings and the Dinos completely sold out after announcement of Neil Josten’s new role as coach.

Neil opens the last article and reads furiously through that gossipy garbage. Oh. Oh, how he hates reporters. Those bastards were digging back stuff on Riko, drawing lines between Neil and Jiro. They already dug up connections between Kevin and Thea's time together, and David’s age… how??

Kevin refused to publicly acknowledge David as his son for now, but people are already sure of what is going on, and the Moriyamas won’t leave him stay quiet for long. They have all the intension of exploiting Kevin and Riko’s fame to fabricate a couple of new stars.

The situation is degenerating fast.

“The committee also had to publish the addresses of every stadium, so I would expect some reporter to show up at our door within the day, even if we are stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

Neil sighs. He really doesn’t want to deal with this right now. He hands back the phone and he sinks back into his chair.

A soft knock has both of them looking at the door. Cedric peeps in with an apologetic look.

Andrew doesn’t even need to ask. He reassures Neil that he’ll be back soon, and he follows Cedric out.

This is why Neil could never be a father. Because if you are, you have to be one every single day, even when you don’t feel like it, even when there’s more urgent problems, and even when your knee is being pierced from side to side right the fucking now.

The game against the Dinos is in two weeks, and the Hatchlings are… not ready. Sometimes it looks like half of the team is almost trying to lose on purpose.

At the breakfast table, Neil decides to ignore everyone staring at his wheelchair by focusing all his attention on their game strategy. So, the good news is that little league games only last for two halves, which are twenty-five minutes each, with a break of fifteen minutes in the middle. The court is obviously smaller then a real one, but there still needs to be six players at all given moment on the court.

So.

Sadie and David are the biggest issue.

When Sadie is in goal, Neil needs to put out the strongest defense he has, to make sure no ball can even brush the goal line.

Theo is obviously the best backliner. Ray would be the second choice. Even considering all the problems he might cause on the court; his talent still makes up for it.

As the only two strikers, Jiro and David will need to play full games. In terms of energies that will not be an issue. In terms of actually playing a decent game… Jiro isn’t probably going to play a good second half, and Neil can only hope David will not sabotage their game from the start.

When Sadie is in goal, Melody should be the dealer, giving the team a more aggressive approach.

And when Harry is in goal, Cedric will substitute Ray, and Judie will substitute Melody.

That means Theo will need to play full games too. At least as long as Cedric doesn’t catch up with the other backliners abilities.

“Hey, look. They might actually score a few points in their first game.” Neil hands his notebook to Andrew at his side, who looks down at it with little interest.

“They are supposed to win nationals.”

“Yeah, well. We started off as the underdog too, right? And look where that brought us!”

Andrew looks down at Neil’s leg, almost as if saying that’s where professional exy brought you.

“Are you still in pain?”

“No,” Neil lies, taking back his notebook.

The children start to clean up their tables and leave for the bathroom. The last one up is Melody.

“Hey, Mel,” Neil calls her before she can leave. She’s been more closed off than usual since yesterday. “How did you sleep in your new room?”

Melody looks back at him with a dead expression.

After a long stretch of silence, Andrew decides that conversation isn’t meant for him, so he gets up and follows the children outside.

Melody actually seems more inclined to speak now that her and Neil are alone. “Why did you put a cabinet in there? With paddings and airholes?”

Neil shrugs. “When you were scared in the past you hid in a cabinet. We thought it might make you feel safer.”

Her eyes light up, her dead expression turns into something vicious, but Neil doesn’t know what her anger is aimed at.

“This was very stupid of you, Nathaniel. You and AJ both.”

Neil clenches his teeth. Now that he knows where the nickname AJ comes from, and why Melody uses it, Neil feels a tangible need to strike her.

Melody laughs at the obvious rage boiling beneath Neil’s skin. “What are you going to do, cripple? You can’t even walk today. You know, it’s not even fun riling you up. It’s so easy. I just need to remind you of all the big muscly men that liked to put their dicks in your boyfriend’s tiny asshole and you’re like… oh, there you are. Turning green, like you’d crush my skull with your bare hands. If you could reach, of course. Which you can’t. Cause you’re a cripple in a wheelchair. Now, you see, since I have two eyeballs, and I know that you’d be happy to know me dead, I have some real difficulties believing that you gave me that room and that cabinet because you wanted to be nice. I think you did it because you thought you could get back at me. But it’s too bad for you, Nathe, cause I’m not dumb like Ray, I know what you’re trying to do. I know who told you to put the cabinet there, and I promise you it’s not over. And if this was AJ’s idea as well, then it’s finally time I teach him a lesson too. It’s past the due date, after all. And I know exactly what I’m going to do to him.”

Chapter Text

Andrew is dealing with too many stressors at the same time, and he has learned over the years that this means he might soon crumble, have a panic attack, or lash out in anger at the tiniest provocation.

So when Neil finally falls asleep that night, Andrew decides to be a good boy and do his therapy homework.

He sits down at the table with pen and paper and makes a list of everything that is causing him stress.

There’s Neil’s mental state at number one.

Then Neil’s physical state at number two.

The possibility of the Moriyamas deciding to murder all of them was number three. In brackets, Andrew adds: still unclear how to get rid of these fuckers.

Then there is Cedric’s future. The fact that Andrew still doesn’t know who the boy’s abuser is, and if Andrew is actually at all qualified to take care of him.

Just about the same thing goes for Ray.

Then there’s Jiro, hiding God knows what, going God knows where in the middle of the night.

And David. They still don’t know what happened to David, why he had been so scared that one morning. And what if they can’t get him out of the Moriyama’s grip? Will he be stuck in his father’s mess all his life?

At this point, Andrew just lets his stream of consciousness get the better of him and take over the paper.

Is my reconciliation with Aaron going to crush and burn? Judie feels forgotten. Harry is always so cheerful and ready to help, that is not fucking normal for a child. Melody planning to bring down destruction on me and Neil is starting to get unnerving. Melody having a gun. Melody is just concerning all around. The Hatchlings will not win nationals. Was I trafficked as a child? Can Theodore be unbrainwashed? Why is Kevin being so distant, even now that his own son is here? Sadie still cries because she misses her mom.

So now that everything is on paper, Andrew starts to organize each problem in points, from most urgent to least urgent. How much is each issue in his control? After that, he divides each problem into smaller ones, and he scribbles down in brackets how he could tackle each of them.

Neil’s mental state:

-undiagnosed ptsd previous to the injury (drag his ass to therapy)

-He can’t play exy (get him a new hobby?? Fucking junkie)

-He refuses to accept his amputation (beat him over the head with a hammer)

Andrew draws a line over his first attempt and tries to be more realistic. Andrew has failed to convince Neil to try therapy for almost ten years now. If he refuses to help himself, how can Andrew do anything for him?

Reluctantly, Andrew decides to move on. The children’s problems all seem much easier to handle, maybe on the account of the fact that they are children, and so Andrew actually has some power to help them.

Andrew feels a lot calmer and in control as he writes a detailed plan on how he could tackle Ray and Cedric’s situation. When he’s done, he takes a picture of the pages and sends it to Bee.

What do you think? Also, you are coming here to talk to them again.

Andrew reads the message back and rolls his eyes imagining Bee’s reply. He adds: if you don’t mind, to preemptively avoid her lecture.

Then Andrew texts Sadie’s mother, asking if they can schedule more frequent calls, but since it’s the dead of night, she doesn’t answer.

Before he can get to the next point, a soft noise from outside makes his ears perk up.

Andrew doesn’t make a sound when he rises from the chair and leaves the room.

Jiro is in the hallway, plastered to the secured door with eyes as huge as an owl fixated on his coach. Andrew is tired. He walks up to the boy.

“Hey there. Going for a walk?”

“Uhm…”

“Are you coming or going this time?”

Jiro looks down at his bare feet. “I’m going back to bed, sir.”

Andrew blocks his way before the boy can flee. “Where have you been, Jiro?”

“Nowhere.”

“You’re usually a good liar, but you’re not even trying this time. Care to explain why?”

Jiro looks immensely tired when he finally looks up from his feet. “I just… know it’s insulting to keep lying like this at this point.”

“Wanna give truth a chance, then?”

“I can’t, sir. I’m sorry.”

Andrew knows how fucking tiring it is to be nine years old and carry a huge secret around with you. They are not going to get anything out of him with coercion. Andrew steps to the side and lets him go through. “Just go straight to bed. You need as much sleep as all the others.”

The boy sighs in relief. “Yes, sir.”

The next day, Neil is back on “his” feet. He tries to claim that the pain is gone, but Andrew can see his teeth randomly clenching from time to time.

The morning goes by quickly, with Neil studying the Dinos’ last year’s games, and Andrew reading about Intermittent Explosive Disorder from a pdf Bee has sent him.

As predicted, reporters show up at their door. Three vans with a full crew each linger at the entrance until security goes out to make clear that access is denied, and no one will speak to the players or the coach outside of games.

After school, the kids start their practice and Neil has them play a full game, trying out the new formation.

It goes… uhm…

“You need to do something for Sadie.” Neil says at lunch.

“You want me to grant a couple of inches to her arms? Maybe age her up by two or three years.”

“What I mean is…”

“She can’t keep up. I know. I can see that. She is six. Barely. Neil, she’s learned how to balance on one foot three years ago. You can’t expect her to compete at a national level.”

“Yeah, well. She has to. Is there really nothing you can do?”

Andrew looks over at the girl sitting next to the other goalie and looking visibly shorter than everybody else. Well. Andrew had also looked visibly shorter than everybody else.

“I can try a new strategy. But don’t expect a miracle in two weeks.”

“You don’t need to gear up, muffin.” Andrew stops Sadie before she can get into the girl’s locker room. “We’re gonna try something new in the coach’s office. Come with me.”

While the others get into the lockers, Sadie hops ahead to keep up with Andrew’s pace.

“What are we doing?” Her tiny voice asks.

“Practice.”

“Practice in the office?”

“Yup. You can have the spinning chair, if you want.”

These children are teaching Andrew that childhood is actually a neat part of life. Look at Sadie running ahead all excited for the spinning chair.

What would Andrew give to get hyped over something so small?

“Ok, muffin, I want you to concentrate,” Andrew says, booting up the computer on the desk. “You’ve gotten a lot more agile since you started playing with us, but you’re still missing a lot of balls, and I want to give you a secret tip on how you can get better a lot faster.”

“Mhh… How secret is this tip?” Sadie blinks at Andrew with her huge black eyes.

“Well, I felt very smart when I figured this out, and since everyone started treating me like a prodigy, I thought it was a veeery secret secret. But turns out, any goalie that’s worth its name knows this, at least subconsciously.”

“Oh,” Sadie sounds disappointed. “So it’s not like a suuuuper special secret.”

“Look, I’m the second-best goalie in the world. If you want to inquire a higher authority on this matter you’ll have to learn Corean, cause Pi Hyun-Jae doesn’t speak English.”

“Who’s Pi Yu… uh… what did you say?”

“She’s the best exy goalie in the world. Or at least… she was last year. This year she might lose her title to a twenty-year-old Australian brat.”

It doesn’t seem like Sadie is really following the discussion. She is mostly just enjoying slightly spinning on a chair that’s almost twice as tall as she is.

“Nevermind. Do you want to know this secret or not?”

“Will I become the best goalie in the world, if you tell me?”

“Probably not. And why would you want that? You’d have to waste your life after exy to get that far.”

Sadie shrugs. “Exy is fun.”

“Oh, my God. Who taught you that? Was it Neil? I knew he was going to be a bad influence on you children.”

Even though Andrew had used his most deadpan voice, Sadie still captures the sarcasm and lets out a little laugh.

Andrew clicks on the videos he has saved on the computer and lets the first one play.

“Here it is. Look.”

On the screen, an exy player is running full force towards the camera. The ball gets thrown at him, he catches and shoots it to the left of the camera.

“The goalie is wearing a camera on his helmet. These videos were shot for an ad campaign, but they serve our purpose very well.”

“This is the secret?” Sadie asks, confused.

“The ad campaign is not the secret. I think the entire US could recite it by heart for how many times it was played on network television. No, the important thing is that the goalie wearing the camera is me. I want you to observe what I do and tell me how’s that different from what you do.”

Andrew lets the next video play.

Sadie holds her breath seeing who’s taking the shot. “Is that coach?”

Yes. Of course, Neil was in the campaign. That’s how they got Andrew in the first place. The Moriyamas had made a ridiculous amount of money from that.

In the video, Neil is moving like a bullet.

Sadie makes a little jump when the ball impacts Andrew’s racquet, and then she laughs. It looks like she got a shot of adrenaline just by looking at that.

All of a sudden, Andrew is finding this difficult. This is the first time since the injury that he has looked back. Neil in his exy gear is more familiar than without.

The next video starts playing on its own, and Andrew comes back to the present. “So? What do you do differently?”

“I don’t catch the ball?”

“Very astute, but try again.”

Sadie forgoes her spinning to get a closer look at the screen and focus on the goalie’s movements. “I don’t know. You’re very fast?”

“Yes, I am. But that’s not what I wanted you to see. Look at when I move around in the goal, and when I move my arms to adjust the racquet.”

Sadie does that for about three more videos. “You move in the goal before they get the ball. And you adjust the racquet when they shoot. How do you move before they get the ball? How do you know where to go?”

“And here’s the secret. Listen to me, muffin. The job of the goalie is not to keep up with the ball, the goalie has to keep up with the players. In this game the ball is projected, meaning that it flies much faster than a kick or an arm-throw could master. You can’t afford to follow the ball, you’ll never be able to keep up, no matter how long your arms are or how fast your legs. Your job is to follow the player. From the way a player positions before the ball gets in their net, you can tell exactly in what area of the goal the ball is going to fly to. You have to move before the striker receives the ball, and when you’re in position, get ready to adjust the height of the racquet.”

“That’s your secret?”

“That’s my secret.”

“That’s how you became the second-best goalie in the world?”

“Mhh, I became the second-best goalie in the world by realizing this much earlier then my peers. By understanding this concept consciously from the start, I mostly practiced predicting the players movements, which was very convenient, since you can do that by just standing still in goal.”

“Why is that convenient?”

“Well, it got Kevin angry.”

“Who’s Kevin?”

“A friend.”

“And why did you want to make a friend angry?”

“Let’s just focus on your practice, muffin. I’m going to stop the video before the striker gets the ball, and you have to tell me where they are going to shoot. Understood?”

At first, Sadie mostly answers randomly, but when Andrew joins in, correctly predicting each shot, the girl gets super fucking annoyed, and actually starts trying.

Andrew has very little hope that this exercise can make a difference in Sadie’s first game; Andrew had put an ungodly amount of hours into this boring training before it was of any use.

After practice, the kids retreat in their rooms and start taking toys off their shelves. Andrew makes himself inconsequential in a corner; he just wants to observe them for a moment in their natural habitat. In the big room, Theo sets up his new console while Judie is reading a book on the girl’s upper bunk, and Sadie and Harry play with the one-eyed doll together, taking turns playing the mother. Andrew doesn’t know if he should tell them that they can both play the mom at the same time.

Jiro is helping David go through all the info Neil gave them about the Dinos. The little boy is very excited about learning everything, but he’s so excited that he’s learning absolutely nothing. While Jiro is sitting on the floor in perfect posture, with the coach’s notes neatly organized in front of him, David is running from one end of the room to the other, talking like a parrot on cocaine about how cool their first game will be, and will they make friends with the Dinos?

“Will you cut it out?! You’re annoying!” Theo snaps when David runs in front of the tv for the second time.

“David, can you come sit here next to me?” Jiro asks.

The boy nods and throws himself forward like a missile. Jiro seems prepared for the impact, but he still lets out a pained breath when David tackles him to the ground. Before moving out of the way, David smiles down at the boy he’s just trapped and leaves a kiss on his cheek.

After that, Jiro seems to be having some difficulties finding his perfect posture again. He pushes himself into a half sitting position, his face very red, and he stutters something about the players listed on the notes.

Andrew decides he should move on, it feels inappropriate to intrude in someone’s happiness like that. At least whatever had been bothering David that one morning seems very distant now.

Andrew knocks on Ray’s door a couple of times and waits to be let in.

It takes a couple of minutes for Ray to realize that if he wants someone in his room, he should open the door himself, because Andrew isn’t going to barge in without permission.

“What do you want?” Ray asks, when he finally opens the door.

“Can I come in?” The voices from the big room are loud, and Andrew is sure that Ray wouldn’t want to discuss this topic in front of the others.

The boy doesn’t look too thrilled. He has one of his airplanes in his hand, the one with both wings covered in tape.

“I won’t be long, I promise.”

Ray shrugs, like he really doesn’t care, and makes space for Andrew to come in.

Andrew closes the door and some of the noise from the outside gets dampened.

“I told you I could teach you how to be more in control, so I prepared a plan that we can follow, and I asked my therapist to check it. That’s Bee, remember her? You played with her in the gazebo. She approved the plan, and she confirmed that she is going to come here to meet you every so often to check progresses and see how you’re doing.”

Ray shows an unfiltered smile at the idea of meeting Bee again. What power does that woman possess to be able to enchant little degenerates, Andrew doesn’t know.

“We can go through the first step of the plan now, if you want.”

Ray accepts his offer, maybe on the account of a rare good mood, or maybe he’s still feeling sorry for the other day’s crisis.

Andrew and the boy sit together on the carpet.

“The first exercise is very simple. You have to list me all the emotions you can name.”

Ray’s enthusiasm dissipates very fast. He seems to be regretting this already.

“Trust me, I know this sounds stupid, but you need to know the very basic stuff before you can get to the important stuff. You don’t start teaching someone how to play exy by have them play a full game. You teach them how to hold a racquet first, right?”

“I guess.”

“So? These emotions?”

Ray slouches into a clearly bored posture. "Anger," he begins to list, but then immediately stops to reflect on the second word. "Fear, and..." The child presses his lips together in concentration, trying to catch the elusive word. "When you... feel like... you don't want to do something anymore."

"Boredom?" Andrew attempts to translate.

"Yeah, and... then... um, having fun."

"Having fun?" Andrew asks perplexed. "What's the emotion you feel when you're having fun?"

Ray scrunches up with a huff. Andrew doubts the boy doesn't know the answer, but he clearly prefers not to respond.

"Happy, maybe?" Andrew suggests.

Ray crosses his arms and puts on his usual scowl. "This is stupid."

"It might be stupid, but you've managed to list only three emotions. Two and a half."

"And how many are there?"

"It depends on who you ask, but generally there are several dozens."

A look of bewilderment manages to break through that scowl. "Dozens? But..."

"But it seems like a lot fewer to you?" Andrew understands Ray's condition well. It was like being colorblind in a world that operates on shades of color. When you spend your childhood bombarded by the intense hue of a single emotion, all the nuances nearby end up looking alike. And so for Ray, any hint of jealousy, embarrassment, unease... they all end up in the big red cauldron of anger.

Cedric, on the other hand, is constantly on edge. Even surprise and excitement exhaust him, triggering a fear response that freezes him.

Andrew is no stranger to anger or fear. His childhood had been a tug-of-war between these two emotions until he had to leave Cas behind. When the doors of his cell had closed, Andrew had begun to see the world in shades of gray.

It had been a relief to stop feeling. Apathy had clouded every desire, even the desire to die. Then there had been the assault on Nicky, the arrest, and the trial, and Andrew had been forced to take those pills.

Apathy had become as slippery as a bar of soap, and Andrew had tried to hold on to it by digging his nails into it. It wouldn't have lasted long, not if Kevin hadn't shown up with his promises.

A sudden vibration in his pocket brings him back to the present. Andrew sees Renee's name on the phone screen and before answering he glances at Ray. "We don't have to list them all today. We can work on it bit by bit. You keep thinking about it."

The child makes a discontented face, but Andrew hadn't expected enthusiastic participation from him.

"Renee." Andrew brings the phone to his ear and leaves Ray's room behind.

Renee's voice becomes incomprehensible under David's clamor in the living room.

"Wait." Andrew steps over Sadie and Harry sprawled on the floor with their dolls and exits into the hallway. "What did you say?"

"Are you having fun?" Clearly, Renee is the amused one, judging by the cheerful lilt in her voice.

Andrew looks back. David is a wild streak darting back and forth in the living room. "Kids are very noisy."

"Happy kids are noisy. I heard Kevin's son is particularly sunny."

"And where did you hear that? I doubt Kevin gave you a courtesy call."

Renee remains in suspicious silence for a moment. "I was passing by Dan and Matt's, so I dropped in. Actually, that's why I'm calling you. They said they've been trying to get in touch with you, but all calls go to voicemail."

Andrew has to reflect for a moment before he remembers. "Ah, yes. I blocked them. They were annoying."

Matt had started texting him after the last time he was there with Alice. He had tried to apologize for freaking out, but Andrew had no desire to hear it. After blocking him, he had to block Dan too, since those two are a two-headed beast.

"And could you unblock them now? They'd like to talk to you."

Andrew thinks back to the list he made the previous night. He had enough problems for the moment. "No, I'm good."

"Matt says you might be interested. It's about Neil."

Andrew presses his lips as he imagines incinerating Boyd with his mind.

"I could also lend him my phone," Renee continues. "You don't necessarily have to unblock him."

Andrew presses his lips harder. "Two minutes."

Somehow, Andrew manages to hear Renee's smile from beyond the receiver.

Boyd's voice comes a moment later. "Andrew. It's a pleasure to hear from you."

Andrew feels a small gag rise in his throat. He hadn't detected the slightest hint of sarcasm from that sentence, and the terrible doubt that Boyd might be serious was creeping into his brain.

"I really want to believe that's not true. What do you want? Be quick."

"The others and I are trying to do something nice for Neil, but we need your opinion as the ultimate expert in Josten studies."

Andrew crushes the phone until his fingers ache. "Who are the others and what's this thing?"

"The others," Boyd repeats as if that were already an explanation in itself. "The Foxes. Listen, we all know Neil can't live without Exy. Last time I was there, he told me you talked to him about the possibility of playing Paralympic Exy, but he seemed so discouraged... Dan and I really think getting back to playing would be the best thing for him. I know he has his coaching commitments now, but that doesn't mean he can't spend some time on the court, right?"

"You're free to try to convince him," Andrew replies, already knowing Neil wouldn't accept. He's too caught up in self-pity and self-destruction to take even a single step in a direction that might help him.

"I've already tried and it didn't work,” Boyd sayd. “That's why we decided to change strategy. I think Neil needs to be guided by someone in his own situation, so I contacted Samuel Little and explained the situation to him, and he..."

"Who?"

"Samuel Little. The Paralympic Exy champion. He's the captain of the national team."

Andrew had never heard of him, but he already doesn't like the name. He has bad memories attached to it. He doesn't know what to think of this guy, he has never heard of anyone in the Paralympic scene. It isn’t that strange; they pull such small numbers they are barely broadcasted.

"Well, as I was saying, Samuel is excited to meet Neil and teach him how to play from a wheelchair. He's even willing to give him a spot on the national team..."

"But of course." Neil Josten reappearing on the court after his permanent retirement would bring unprecedented fame to Samuel's team. "I'm sure he's only motivated by pure intentions."

"He seemed like a good person to me. I don't think he wants to take advantage of Neil's fame, he just seemed like an enthusiastic fan."

"Fan?"

"Well, Samuel is nineteen. He was nine when he saw us win the championship against the Ravens. He says he started playing because Neil inspired him."

Andrew takes a deep breath and starts massaging his temple.

"I know Neil can't move from there," Boyd continues, "but I think if we could just get a raquet back in Neil's hands, he'd be a bit more... stable. Samuel has shown a lot of willingness, he and his team could come there to introduce themselves, and Neil could have a trial run. Allison has already bought a sports wheelchair. Even Aaron has agreed to help. I can come by tomorrow and bring the wheelchair, and explain the whole situation..."

"Boyd. It won't work." Giving Exy back to Neil might have given him some stability, but by now the cracks had widened too much. It is only a matter of time. And continuing to see that stupid sport as a balm for every pain would only worsen the collapse when it inevitably came.

Boyd falls into stubborn silence. He waits for Andrew to add something, but Andrew has nothing more to say.

"Are you really against it? We're all ready to help with this. Wymack offered to let Samuel and his team use the Foxes' bus to come here."

"Don't they have their own bus? Weren't they the national team?"

"Samuel says they only rent it for the nights they play."

Wow. Neil would never see a penny from that team. There was zero chance the Moryamas would let him waste his time on a mere pastime.

"Okay, listen, Andrew. We wanted to get your opinion because you clearly know more than us, and if you think it won't work, I won't get my hopes up. But don't you think it's at least worth trying? Dan, Wymack, and I were thinking of stopping by tomorrow. We can bring the new wheelchair, and Neil can talk to Samuel on the phone, have a chat. What do you say?"

The door to Cedric's room opens a crack, and the child's worried little head peeks out to observe Andrew.

"Do what you want. But it won't work." Andrew hangs up and puts away his phone. "Cedric, everything okay?"

The child nods, but stays at the door, so Andrew approaches. He's almost tempted to ruffle his head and pull him close, but even though Cedric has started to feel comfortable with light touches, it's still a gamble to know how he'd react every time.

"What's wrong?"

The child opens the door a little wider, there's a lovely radiant light in his room. Everything is in perfect order. Cedric walks to the desk with his hands behind his back and a little happy hop in his gait.

Andrew sees a puzzle occupying the entire surface of the desk. He recognizes that polar bear from the purchases they made at the mall.

Cedric sways on his feet and looks for Andrew's eyes for a comment.

"You finished it." Andrew decides to smile. "Well done."

The child smiles back and his happy sway increases until his head rests on Andrew's chest.

Andrew has to buy many more puzzles.

Chapter Text

Neil catches sight of a figure at the gates of the court, and his eyes fix on the gun the man is carrying at his waist. Neil's heart starts pumping adrenaline to slow down time, and to run, run... except he can't. His crippled leg can't manage more than a light trot. The man advances into the court; children are scattered amidst the echoing of the ball and the squeaking of shoes.

Neil goes. He'll never manage to stop the man in time.

Andrew!

Andrew is in the goal area with Harry, he hasn't noticed the threat yet.

Neil won't make it. The armed man will pull out the gun, aiming at one of the children. Which one?

Neil uses the last breath he has left to blow the whistle. A long whistle to stop the game, a short whistle to gather all the children.

His knee, the knee he lost, groans with pain at every step. The children are too slow, they're not gathering fast enough, Neil can't protect them all.

Until Neil reaches the man.

"Mr. Joste..."

Neil grabs him by the collar and punches him between the eye and the nose, feeling something soft break under his knuckles.

The momentum of the blow throws him off balance, and both he and the armed man end up on the ground.

"NEIL!"

Andrew is immediately by his side, ready to pull him up. But instead of rushing at the bastard and finishing the job, Andrew positions himself between him and Neil and begins to speak calmly: "What's happening, Neil? Talk to me."

Neil looks at him as if he's lost his mind. "He's armed! He has a gun at his waist, can't you see?"

"Yes," Andrew responds calmly. "That's the head of security, Peter Hanabi. We met him on the first day, remember? It's normal for him to be armed."

Neil lowers his gaze to the groaning man on the ground, holding his bleeding nose. He examines his clothes more closely.

Neil swallows a lump in his throat. That's the head of security, Peter Hanabi. He and Andrew met him on the first day along with the rest of the staff.

His pounding heart finally begins to calm down. Neil turns to the group of crowded children jostling to see what's happening.

"It took you almost a minute to gather." Neil realizes how harsh his voice sounds, but despite the threat being dissipated, fear still beats against the walls of his mind. "You can't afford to be this slow, you can't!"

The curious nudges cease, and all eyes open a bit wider than usual, staring at their clearly furious coach.

Neil can't stop himself, he keeps reprimand the children, until he starts yelling. He still sees the gun. He sees the man shooting, and Neil can't say who he would have hit.

Andrew grabs him by the wrist, but it's not him who stops him, it's Sadie's sobs.

Neil falls silent. David's eyes are filled with tears too. Jiro obediently keeps his head down and his hands are shaking.

Looking at each one of them, Neil's eyes land on Theo who, with a fearful shudder and lowered eyes mumbles: "We'll be faster, sir."

Neil can't bear it. Catching Melody's victorious smile is the last straw.

He turns his back on them. Peter has gotten back on his feet and finished dabbing his face with a handkerchief. The man looks quite annoyed, but he also seems unwilling to demand an apology.

"What the hell do you want?" Andrew asks.

"There are people at the entrance asking for you." The man grumbles, holding back a sharp reply. "Matt Boyd, Dan Wilds, and David Wymack."

"And you needed a gun to tell us?"

Neil knows Andrew really has no way to defend him. Neil acted out of panic and paranoia. Not logic.

Peter just shrugs.

"You can let them in," Andrew says impatiently. At that, the man turns and leaves the court.

Neil should say something to the children.

"Alright. Get back to training. Coach Neil isn't angry with you, it's just that Peter's face rubs him the wrong way. Right, Neil?"

Uncertain laughter rises from the group.

Neil tries to put on a smile of apology. "Yes. Nothing happened. I'm sorry."

But you need to be faster. When a threat comes, I need to have you all in one place, or I won't be able to protect you all.

The children are glad to move away from that tense moment.

"At least now we know the guards definitely work for the Moriyamas. No person uninvolved with dangerous criminals would react like that to being punched in the face for no reason."

"Likely," Neil murmured, ignoring Andrew's worried glance.

He has seen many of those glances in the past few days.

Neil whistles to restart the game. The children start moving with more vigor, and for a moment Neil thinks they might have a decent game at least for the first half.

Cedric quickly changes that expectation, retreating at the sight of Jiro charging towards the goal, instead of trying to tackle him.

The court gates open again.

"Neeeeeeeil!" And Dan's voice has the power to make Neil forget every worry for a moment.

Seeing her, Matt, and Coach Wymack appear dispels the anxiety until Neil can do nothing but smile.

Then an excited voice makes its way through the adults' legs, and little Alice peeks out to run into Andrew's arms.

Neil's sudden cheerfulness fades. He hasn't forgotten what happened last time Matt and Alice came to visit.

Andrew, however, acts as if nothing's wrong. He bends down to catch the running girl and lifts her onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Neil carefully eyes Matt to make sure he has nothing to say about it, but his old friend is sporting a toothy grin and seems to have eyes only for Neil.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, looking at them one by one.

“Coach! I scored! You weren’t looking!” Ray’s voice echoes in the court.

Him and the others are running fast towards the adults gathered around the door. As soon as they stop, Ray stares his coach down and repeats: “I scored. You didn’t blow the whistle.”

“You’re a backliner, Ray. You’re not supposed to score.”

“Well, it’s not my fault David is a fucking moron. He passed the ball to ME, and Sadie wasn’t even looking. I had a free shot. I sent the ball all the way to the other side.”

“David… you’re not even in Ray’s team right now.”

David doesn’t pay him the littlest bit of mind.

The child runs like a rocket towards Coach Wymack and crashes into him, laughing. "GRANDPA!!"

Coach has a ready smile for his grandson, a type of smile that Neil had seen on him very rarely.

"Little rascal! How are you behaving? Driving Neil crazy, I bet, huh?"

"Nooo, I'm good!" David turns to Neil for confirmation, and Neil finds himself stuttering for an appropriate response.

Fortunately, Coach saves him with a warm laugh.

"What are you doing here?" Neil asks again. "Did you come to help me with coaching?"

"Why? Do you need help?" Dan asks, tilting his head to catch sight of the gathered children.

Neil follows her gaze and manages to hold back a resigned sigh. "Let's say that... an expert perspective might come in handy."

"Yeah!" David shouts. "My grandpa is the best coach in the world!"

Wymack gives him a pat on the head. "You can't say that in front of your coach."

"But it's true!"

Sadie untangles herself from the sea of rackets and takes off her helmet. "Who's that?" She points at Alice in Andrew's arms, looking guarded.

Andrew waits for Alice to respond, but when the girl only hides her head in her uncle's shoulder, Andrew just says, "Alice."

Sadie's face darkens. It's clear that this answer doesn't satisfy her.

Matt reaches out and grabs Neil's shoulders in a powerful grip. "Buddy, we've brought you an amazing gift!"

"A gift? Guys... it's great to see you, really. But the game with the Dinos is around the corner, and my team... Let's just say they could benefit from some more practice."

"We can take a break," announces Andrew.

Neil glares at him, but when has that ever been enough to make him change his mind?

Against Neil's protests, the whole group moves outside for a break, after the children have shed their gear. The guests settle in the gazebo where Neil finds no excuses not to sit, so his nonexistent knee stops throbbing for a while.

"How's the amputation going?" Matt asks. "You seem much more agile than last time."

Neil strongly doubts it. He makes an indistinct sound and hopes to end that conversation that way.

Neil rapidly checks on his team before focusing on the guests. Some children have gathered near the fountain, while others have gone to play under the shade of trees.

Alice has remained clinging to Andrew's neck, and he is currently trying to persuade her to join the other kids. When nothing seems to move her, Andrew calls Harry's name, who quickly arrives, followed by Cedric, David, and Sadie.

Andrew leaves the shade of the gazebo and kneels down to bring Alice closer to the new children.

Neil realizes that the silence around the table has become thick. Matt, Dan, and Wymack are watching Andrew tensely.

Andrew is speaking too softly for Neil to hear, but the children's attitude should be enough to show how spectacular Andrew is with them.

Cedric places both hands on Andrew's shoulder as he tries to avoid glancing at the newcomers. When Matt raises a hand to wave at him, Cedric crouches down, hiding in his coach's side.

Andrew automatically wraps an arm around him, but he doesn't stop speaking softly to Harry and Alice.

Meanwhile, David circles the group and positions himself behind Andrew. He points at the three newcomers in the gazebo and starts tapping Andrew's back. "Coach, why are they here? Hey, Andrew? Uncle? Hey, Coach Andrew!"

Since Andrew is still engrossed in his conversation, David grabs onto his neck and starts pulling.

When Andrew turns with an irritated look, both Matt and Dan startle.

David giggles at that look, so Andrew stands Alice up to free his other arm and use it to take David's wrist.

"Put your hand on my shoulder," he instructs, guiding his wrist. "That way, I'll remember you have something to tell me when I'm done talking with Harry."

David nods, places his hand, bounces on the spot for a moment slapping Andrew's shoulder, then drops on the ground with a squeak of delight, and picks up a shiny pebble.

"JIRO, LOOK WHAT I FOUND!!" David takes off running to find his captain.

Meanwhile, Alice has mustered up courage and has accepted Harry's hand. The two girls walk away together.

Andrew stands up still holding Cedric close. Before Andrew can take a step, Sadie clings to his legs and starts crying.

"Sadie always cries!" Neil explains, but immediately regrets saying it. Andrew doesn’t need to be justified.

Indeed, Andrew doesn't bat an eye at the crying child. He picks her up and starts walking, cradling her like a newborn, while Cedric still clings to him.

Neil looks from Matt to Dan, from Dan to Wymack, and challenges them with his gaze to make any comments.

"Relax, Neil," says Matt. "I tried to apologize after last time. I know Andrew is good with Alice, it's just hard to reconcile everything we know about him with how he behaves with children. I mean... the Andrew we knew, Dan and I, had nothing to do with the figure of the attentive and loving father."

Neil knows he can look scary when he pulls out his fierce look, but he can't help it. "There's nothing to reconcile. Andrew has always been like this."

Wymack just raises an eyebrow.

How could they still not understand? Andrew had never done anything but sacrifice himself for everyone. Since he was a child himself, he had never shied away from protecting those in need.

Dan intervenes before the conversation degenerates. "Okay, okay! No one here presumes to understand Andrew better than you, Neil. We brought Alice with us as a sign of peace and of our complete trust."

"And because she wouldn't stop asking after Andrew," grumbles Matt.

"But we're not here for that," Dan smiles. "I told you, we have a surprise for you. Are you ready?"

Dan jumps up and strides quickly into the stadium.

Meanwhile, Andrew has managed to calm Sadie's wailing, and he has convinced her to go play with the other kids.

"What was that about?" Neil asks when Andrew approaches with Cedric stuck to his side.

Andrew shrugs. Either he didn't really know, or he didn't want to show that he knew in front of Matt and Wymack.

"Hey, Hi!" Matt nods to greet Cedric. "What position do you play, champ?" Matt reaches out to ruffle the boy's hair. Neil can't stop him in time, but Andrew grabs his wrist in a tight grip.

"Don't touch him."

"Ow, ow, I was just trying to say hi. Can you let go?"

Andrew gives him one last glare and one last squeeze before letting go.

"Hey there? Neil? Come take a look!" Dan's loud voice grabs everyone's attention.

Neil cranes his neck to see the woman approaching with... a wheelchair.

Neil doesn't know what to think or feel. Is this the gift they traveled who knows how many hours to bring him?

"Wow..." Neil really tries to appear grateful. "But I, um... already have a wheelchair. And I practically don't ever use it."

"This isn't just any wheelchair, you goofball." Dan arrives at the edge of the gazebo.

And indeed, now that he sees it up close, that wheelchair looks sturdier, with its tilted wheels and reinforced backrest.

Matt turns to Neil with a big smile. "Buddy, that's just half of the surprise. We've found you a team!"

"A team? A team for what?"

Matt bursts into laughter. "For Exy! Obviously!"

Neil blinks, lowers a hand to his prosthetic, and tries to pinch it. No, yes... still amputated. "I'm missing a leg," he tries to say with some delicacy.

"Tell me something I don't know! Out of twelve players, the Black Falcons only have ten legs in total. I promise you're going to fit right in."

Neil looks back at the wheelchair. Finally, he understands what's happening.

A terrible sensation creeps into his tormented mind. A glimmer of hope. Neil imagines gripping the racquet. Running towards the goal, feeling that energy, that passion again...

Hope is a treacherous counselor. Neil knows that. He shouldn't cling to it. He looks up at Andrew, searching for a way out, someone to remind him that it's a terrible idea, that he can't afford it, that he's not allowed to have this.

But in Andrew's eyes, he finds nothing. Neither enthusiasm, nor hostility, nor surprise.

"You knew?"

Andrew purses his lips in a discontented expression but offers no explanations.

"Neil, we've thought of everything. Allison bought the wheelchair, Nicky thought about the racquet and special gear. I got in touch with the captain of the Black Falcons. Wymack offered to make the Foxes' bus available to bring them here, and Bee offered to drive them, since she has some business to take care of here. You can use the children's field, because in the Paralympic league the dimensions of the court are reduced too. If after you try you realize it's not for you, we can always forget about it, but I think it's exactly what you need."

Matt produces a note and places it under Neil's nose. "This is Samuel Little's number. Paralympic champion, eh. Not someone insignificant. He's a big fan of yours. When I mentioned your name, he almost fainted."

Neil's mouth is completely dry. His muscles feel like molasses, yet somehow, he manages to grasp the note. He still can't speak. He still can't think.

He risked it all once to keep playing; is he willing to do it again?

"And there's also this..." Matt's voice indicates that he feels like he's winning. He takes out his phone and thrusts it into Neil's hands, pressing play on the screen.

A video starts.

"Heyyyyyyy!" The shot is on a young man with part of his face disfigured by burns and a sparkling smile. "This is Samuel Little, captain of the coolest team ever!" Voices rise from the background, and when Samuel turns, the phone he holds tilts, framing a large locker room and a handful of guys in wheelchairs. "Okay, no. Can you guys shut the fuck up for five seconds?" Followed by whistles and cheers.

The phone is lowered to what Neil supposes are Samuel's knees, giving them a view of the boy's chin and the ceiling starting to scroll away as the wheelchair begins to move.

Once he finds a quieter corner, Samuel picks up the phone again and frames his face. The burns are old but deep. They spread over the right side of his face, eating away at an entire ear.

"As I was saying. This is Samuel Little, YO! This is a message to Neil Fucking Josten. There's a place for you at number ten of the Black Falcons. It's been yours since they amputated that leg of yours, and you have no valid excuse for not showing up to practice until now. You have a world of catching up to do, so you better start right away. Call me as soon as you get this message, and I'll come to show you how to play Exy. Real Exy. I know you were a champion in your area, but here you have to keep it low, buddy, because in this world, I'm the champion. And if you hope of ever playing at my level, you better get to work, buddy. Got it?"

Neil was a simple creature, made of competition and adrenaline. A speech like that was enough to make his heart pump with excitement like a schoolgirl at prom.

Samuel keeps smiling on the screen, as if in response to Neil's grin. "Josten, I know you've been through a lot. But I also know you weren't ready to lose that fucking leg. No one ever is. And I know that right now everything seems impossible, everything you did and were before the amputation… it seems like you'll never be that person again. And it's true. You won't be. Because you'll be someone much cooler, I promise you."

Samuel's smile widens, but this is the moment when Neil loses his.

"I know what happened to you seems like a tragedy. It seems like the end of the world. But fuck it... it isn't! Neil, I know you can't believe me right now, but the life of an amputee is fucking awesome. It's a real blast. And we can show you. Right, guys?"

The background buzz resumes, along with a hoarse laugh.

"You didn't forget to tell him the most important part, did you?" A girl's voice asks.

The video's image is shaken when the girl's wheelchair collides with Samuel's.

"Hey! Don't even try it! Hanna, don't you dare!"

The girl moves away with the phone and a tinkling laugh. Two more guys advance to tackle the captain before he can regain control of his phone.

The girl turns the camera towards a low, wide locker. "Dear Exy prince, our captain has another reason to want you on the team." The girl opens the locker, and on the inner wall, she zooms in on a photo. It's a twenty-something year old Neil smiling together with a child staring at him in awe.

"Sammy looOOoves Neeeil! Sammy looOOoves Neeeeil!" The girl isn't the only one starting the chant.

Samuel arrives shortly after to snatch the phone from her hand with an annoyed snort. "Fuck you. Now I have to do it all over again."

"You can't do it again; that's a work of art!"

"Hey, no! Stop! Hanna!"

"Give it!"

"Let go! Don't you dare send..."

And that's the end of the video.

Neil feels drained.

I know you can't believe me right now, but the life of an amputee is fucking awesome.

What would be so awesome about not being able to climb stairs? Not being able to throw a punch without falling to the ground? Feeling this fucking pain every hour of the day?

Neil stands up. He can't deal with those people laughing while they’re stuck on a wheelchair; he couldn't bear it.

"Thanks for all the work you've done for me, I'll think about it." Neil doesn't wait for the others to realize he's already finished thinking.

He leaves the table and the gazebo.

Chapter Text

“If Exy doesn’t work, I don’t know what will,” Matt says, watching Neil retreat.

Maybe that’s the fucking problem, Andrew thinks. A man’s brittle sanity shouldn’t balance on top of a fucking sport.

Neil continues walking with a slow, limping gait. He stops at the bench near the fountain and, by some divine miracle, decides to sit down.

Even from a distance, Andrew can see Neil’s teeth clenching from the effort. Phantom pain still lingered.

Unaware of his coach’s mood, David runs up to him, showing off his shiny little pebble with far more enthusiasm than what a shiny little pebble deserves.

“How’s it going?” Wymack asks, approaching Andrew on the gazebo’s last step.

“Do you mean Neil or your grandson?” Andrew replies.

Wymack grunts unhappily. “I can already see how Neil’s doing. His head is still as hard as granite. I’m talking about David. Has he made any progress?”

“Are you asking me to talk about your grandson’s Exy performance? Have you lost your mind?”

“I wasn’t referring to his game.” Wymack shoots Andrew a direct look but then notices that Dan and Matt are still within earshot.

Wymack motions for Andrew to follow him, and after walking away from the gazebo under the scorching sun, he glances at the little bean trailing behind Andrew with every step.

“You’ve got yourself a shadow, I see.” The old man almost laughs.

Andrew has nothing to say. He crosses his arms to show his displeasure with the conversation, but when Cedric pokes his side, Andrew lowers one hand so the boy can cling to his sleeve.

“David…” Wymack begins, pointing his chin toward his distant grandson. “He’s always been a cheerful, energetic kid. Kevin, Thea, and I were thrilled to see him grow up so happy. And Kevin has done everything to keep that spirit intact, even though I disagree with many of his decisions. That poor kid has been shuttled around the country since he was born, always in the hands of different people: caregivers, relatives, teachers…” Wymack pulls his lips. “Kevin thought he had to keep his son away to keep him safe and far from the dangers... of his job. So it was David’s maternal grandparents who had him evaluated, at the suggestion of his preschool teachers.”

Evaluated?

Andrew continues to stare at his old coach. He’s beginning to think this conversation was planned and perhaps the real reason the old man is here in the first place.

Wymack shifts his gaze to his grandson, who is still squealing in Neil’s ear, trying to cheer him up.

“David was diagnosed with ADHD when he was four. That was the first thing they found. Then they added general learning disorder, dyslexia, dyscalculia…” Wymack shakes his head. “It doesn’t mean the boy is r-delayed, he… he’s fine. He just needs some extra help. And Kevin refuses to accept that. He doesn’t even want to acknowledge it’s true, and the same goes for Thea. They’ve decided to stick their heads in the sand and let David continue to struggle with issues that could be alleviated.”

Andrew feels Cedric’s little hand squeeze his fingers.

“I don’t know anything about ADHD,” Andrew admits. David’s chatter draws his attention again. He’s standing on the bench, leaning slightly toward his coach, talking a mile a minute without taking a breath. His smile is contagious; even Neil has lost his scowl.

“But David seems fine to me,” Andrew continues.

Wymack shakes his head reproachfully.

Andrew is willing to admit he needs to know more before forming an opinion. “What are you proposing?”

“You have sway over Kevin. You can make him see reason. If you tell him this needs to be taken seriously for his son’s sake, he might listen to you. David needs help with school, medication to slow his brain down a bit and help him focus.”

“What?” Andrew isn’t sure he heard right. “Medication? Psychotropic drugs?”

Wymack turns to face Andrew fully, arms crossed. “Medication is the standard procedure in these cases. Do you have any idea how much his life would change if he could focus on one thing for more than two seconds?”

Andrew holds Cedric’s hand, trying not to get agitated, trying not to push the old man or punch him in the face. He repeats this thought in his head before responding, but his voice still reveals his desires: “David is a happy child. An EIGHT-YEAR-OLD happy child. His brain isn’t even halfway developed, and I’ll make sure it finishes developing without a trace of that vile shit. Was I clear enough?”

The old man immediately wears a hostile expression. “I thought you had become the reasonable one here.”

Andrew bares his teeth and widens his eyes. It’s a pleasure to see Wymack flinch at the disturbing smile that was forced on Andrew for almost two years.

“Neither of us is reasonable, between me and Neil. We’re both crazy.”

“I need to talk to you,” Andrew says, taking next to Neil. Cedric is quick to find himself a small corner of the bench for himself.

All the kids are busy playing nearby.

“About what?”

“David has been diagnosed with ADHD.”

Neil furrows his brow, watching the boy who is trying to pull Jiro and Judie into playing with him. “So… what does that mean?”

“It means he has trouble concentrating and is hyperactive.”

“No kidding?”

Yeah… This isn’t exactly new information; it’s just a label for what they’d already observed.

And what a pleasure it is to observe. David has managed to convince Judie to play family with him, and Harry and Sadie have joined in on their own. Little Alice has mustered up the courage to join the group of older kids. Harry welcomes her without hesitation, while Sadie seems to have a lot to say about her presence.

The group divides up roles for the game, and it’s inevitable that Harry ends up playing the mom.

Judie wants to be the naughty daughter, while Sadie wants to be the baby. Alice is a bit intimidated, so she ends up being the mom’s little helper. David is undecided; he tries being the dad for a while but soon decides he doesn’t like that role. He switches to being the little kid, but that bores him quickly too, so he ends up being the dog, barking up a storm at the poor overworked single mom.

Andrew hears Dan hold her breath nearby and realizes he’s been caught smiling. The expression falls quickly, though the feeling remains. Watching the kids play so peacefully gives him a sense of calm. Sometimes a small event like this unlocks a pleasant memory from the past, one that would usually struggle to surface above the all the abuse he had endured.

“I always wanted to be the dog when playing family,” Andrew tells Neil. He notices Matt, Dan, and Wymack approaching their bench, knowing that this admission about his past will be dissected in his absence. But it doesn’t matter.

Neil looks at him with a strange expression. “Really?”

“Yes. It’s the most fun role. You get to bite the other kids.”

David, however, is a good dog. He makes sure the baby doesn’t put stones in her mouth while the mom isn’t looking, and he goes for walks with the naughty daughter, barking sharply.

Andrew takes a few minutes to notice that the two older girls don’t seem very interested in this game. It’s almost like they’re indulging the three younger kids. Except David isn’t much younger.

Glancing to his right, Andrew notices that look of concern on Wymack’s face. Andrew refuses to share it. David is fine. He’s happy. That’s all that matters.

“Jiro! Woof, woof! Come! You be the big dog! Woof!” David crawls over to his captain.

Jiro isn’t capable of pretending to be interested like Harry and Judie. In fact, his disinterest in the game almost looks like fear.

“N-no… I… I don’t know how to play this game…”

David grabs his hand and tries to pull him down. “Come on! You have to do it like this! Woof! Woof!”

Jiro resists the tugs and looks up at his coaches as if seeking help.

Andrew almost feels sorry for the poor guy.

A girl’s scream makes everyone turn toward the fountain.

Little Alice’s high-pitched voice immediately rises in uncontrolled sobbing. Sadie is standing right next to her, very interested in the dirt between her feet.

Andrew gets up to go to them, but Matt and Dan are faster. They reach their daughter first and ask her why she’s crying.

Through her uncontrollable sobs, Alice can only point at Sadie.

“What happened here?” Andrew asks once he reaches the prime suspect.

Sadie lifts her deadly black eyes and says, “I don’t know.”

Things get more complicated when Alice escapes her father’s touch to cry on Andrew’s shoulder.

Hugging her with one arm is an automatic gesture for Andrew, but Sadie looks at him as if it were an unforgivable action.

“Let me ask again: what happened here?”

This time Alice manages to respond through her sobs: “She puu-uullee-edd my haaii-iiirr!”

Sadie shakes her angelic little head. “That's not true.”

Andrew presses his lips together. He can feel Matt and Dan's gazes fixed on him.

“Are you sure, Sadie?”

The girl's eyes ignite like a flame. “I said no!”

But it's hard to believe her when her eyes turn viciously toward Alice the moment the little one clings to her uncle.

“She's pretending to cry! She's a liar!”

“No, I'm not!”

Sadie reaches out and grabs a handful of the younger girl’s curly hair.

Alice's head snaps back and another sharp scream escapes her lips.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Matt is even quicker than Andrew. He frees his daughter from the steel grip and steps between Alice and Sadie. “We don’t act like that!”

Sadie immediately looks to Andrew for protection.

This is one of those times when Andrew really doesn’t know what to do. With all the times Neil praises how he handles the kids, sometimes Andrew forgets how much he still doesn’t know.

He takes too long to make a decision, and hesitating, it seems, is the wrong decision.

Sadie’s determined look transforms into one wounded by genuine betrayal. There’s no stopping it now. Sadie opens her mouth and starts crying.

And despite Andrew being the cause of her agony, the girl still moves toward him and tries to climb into his arms on the side left free by Alice.

It’s probably the wrong thing to do, but Andrew leaves Alice to her parents and lifts Sadie into his arms.

She buries her tear-streaked face into his shoulder and wraps her arms around his neck as if trying to strangle him.

“It's tough being popular, huh?” Dan laughs, picking up her now calmer daughter.

What was there to laugh about? This was a serious situation. There were two crying children, and Andrew had no idea how to resolve the dispute.

“Don't be so serious,” Dan continues. “They just had a little fight. You'll see that in five minutes they’ll discover they both like purple, and they'll get along great.”

Andrew could never take a child's pain so lightly. Maybe he was in the wrong, but he would never laugh or belittle those tears.

Andrew reaches out to Dan to stroke Alice's head and silently apologize, then he walks away with Sadie.

Together they all return to the bench, where Andrew seats the girl between her two coaches.

Neil gives him a look, and with just that glance, he understands that the exchange has troubled Andrew, so he decides to take control of the situation.

“Andrew can love two little girls at once. You know that, right, Sadie?” Neil asks.

Sadie wipes her tears and turns her head to look away.

The fact that there's someone in the world jealous of Andrew is almost comical.

Meanwhile, the family game has degenerated into a zombie war. David is still caught up in his role as a dog, but now his task is to chase the zombie horde away from his master’s house.

The master in question stands at the center of the game, wringing his hands and looking around as if surrounded by crocodiles.

“Poor Jiro,” murmurs Neil.

“He's just a bit shy!” Matt exclaims from behind them. “You’ll see, with so many kids around, he’ll open up soon. I was the same at his age.”

Dan chuckles, looking at him with surprise. “You? Shy? I bet you were the kind of kid who’d put anything gross in his mouth to make his friends laugh. I was a poised child. I always played the mom. And the ninja warrior.”

Even Wymack bursts out laughing this time. Then he turns and asks, “And you, Neil?”

Andrew expects to see the same lost look on Neil's face that Jiro has. And indeed, for a long moment, the young coach seems not to understand the question at all.

“Ah, no. I... didn’t play.”

There’s a long moment when Dan, Matt, and Wymack hope Neil adds something like I didn’t play with other kids. I didn’t like to play family.

Matt tries to pull out a laugh, but it’s clear it lacks his usual charm. “Come on! You must have played some game!”

Neil darkens. The fact that there was never any game was terrible in itself, but the answer Neil gives is even worse.

“Exy,” he says, absentmindedly placing a hand on his severed leg. “I played Exy.”

That evening, after saying goodbye to Dan, Matt, and Wymack, after finishing practice and putting the kids to bed, Andrew finds Neil lying on the mattress staring at nothing.

I played Exy.

Andrew had never completely understood the source of his suicidal obsession with that stupid sport.

But now some pieces are starting to fit together.

Exy had been the only glimmer of normality in his childhood. The only time he had been allowed to be a child at all was on the court.

“Neil.”

It takes a while for Neil to turn his head. Day after day, fatigue is draining him.

Andrew throws onto the blanket the card Matt had left. “Call that Samuel Little. You need to start playing again.”

Chapter Text

The bus ride is shrouded in gray clouds and wind that whistles louder than David's chatter.

Jiro is still grateful for that voice always on his right, that could always drown out the chaos of his worries.

"So, I don't think the aliens would have let me go after I blew up their hive. But that's exactly how it went. And then I woke up."

Jiro smiles at what seems like the end of David's story. Obviously, it isn't. There's never an end to what David wants to tell. His mind links one thought to another without ever taking a breath.

Jiro finds it charming, but sometimes he thinks being inside David's head must be an exhausting experience.

"Mr. Jiro," Theo's voice calls from the back seat, and his bespectacled head soon pops up over the top of the seat.

Jiro had become more straightforward in shooing away that irritating voice lately, but something in Theo's usually cold gaze makes him worry.

"Just a moment, David."

The younger boy pauses his story mid-sentence, watching his friend climb over his legs to join Theo in the back row.

"What's going on?" Jiro asks in Japanese, to give their conversation a semblance of privacy. David would understand every word anyway, but Theo doesn't know that, and that is a secret that is still necessary to keep.

"We're going to lose the game. There's no doubt we'll lose. And I'm afraid your father, Lord Ichirou, won't be happy about it."

"Maybe," Jiro responds noncommittally. It's hard to imagine things going any less disastrously. And if the results are bad enough, perhaps Lord Ichirou would reconsider his decision to keep the butcher's son alive.

"Maybe it's for the best," Theo murmurs. "Wesniski isn't a good coach. He can't handle this team; he wouldn't be able to create the Perfect Court."

Jiro is dying to ask him which coach he'd prefer instead. Toshi? Asahi? Berlina?

"Lord Ichirou won't get rid of Wesniski over one bad game. And we won't give him any reason to believe there's something wrong with the Butcher's son's coaching."

Sure, having the Butcher's son always around isn't ideal for Jiro's sanity, but it is still better than many unpleasant alternatives.

"But, Mr. Jiro, surely the family will send someone to oversee the game. If they were to ask us directly..."

"We won't give them any reason to believe there's something wrong with the Butcher's son's coaching. That's an order."

Theo's thin eyes widen. It's the first time Jiro has given him a direct order, and it isn't an easy one to follow. It could conflict with the interests of the Moriyama family.

Has Jiro overstepped? He can't risk anyone suspecting his loyalty, especially a snake from the Woolridge family.

"I understand. And I will obey, Mr. Jiro. I know my place. However, I wonder... if someone with higher authority than yours were to give me a contrary order..."

"And who would that be? Do you expect Lord Ichirou to sit in the stands personally? Or perhaps you think Lord Kengo will ask you for clarifications about our exy game? I don't think you realize how irrelevant our position is."

"No, my lord. Of course."

A cruel instinct envelops Jiro in that moment. He wants to twist the knife even further. He wants to remind Theo that his place is no longer with the main branch. Whatever  happened to collapse Theo's or the entire Woolridge family's reputation, it isn't something they can ever recover from. Not if their eldest son has been sent to waste his life behind a useless second son.

Jiro doesn't give in to that instinct. It isn't wise to turn Theodore into an enemy. And besides... Jiro still wants to believe he could crush that evil part of himself, the part he inherited from his father and runs through his veins.

It is just an illusion, of course. Jiro knows he's a monster.

As soon as he realizes he started scratching the cuts on his hands again, he stands up. He has no parting words for Theo; Jiro simply leaves him where he is and resumes his place next to David.

"What's going on?" David asks in a thin voice.

Jiro hates being the cause of his worries. David shouldn't have any worries. He is a free and innocent kid; he should have never been involved in this story.

And even though David has probably eavesdropped on most of the conversation, Jiro decides the best thing to do is smile and tell him everything is fine.

Before David can complain about that obvious lie, the bus takes a turn a little too quickly, and the girls in the front seats shriek with delight as they are thrown against the window.

"What the hell..." Wesniski's voice silences the chatter on the bus. Everyone cranes their necks for a look.

The giant green and yellow bus of the Hatchlings is nearing its destination, but the road to the stadium's parking lot is blocked by a huge crowd made out of shouts and camera flashes.

Julie is the first to abandon her seat to stand up. Then Ray follows with his "Holy shit!" and irritating giggles. David stands up next, so Jiro follows him, and Theo trails behind.

"Coach, what's going on?" Harry asks, still sitting next to Sadie.

Minyard presses his hands on the steering wheel harder, watching the formless blob that is enveloping the bus from all sides.

"Where is security?" Wesniski shouts.

"It's a Little League game. I doubt the Saurus Court security can handle a crowd of this size," Minyard replies.

"Exactly! It's a Little League game! What the fuck are all these people doing here?!" Wesniski raises an arm to shield his face from the camera flashes.

Minyard turns to glance at Jiro and David, then at his partner. "I don't think they're here to watch the kids play."

To confirm this, a high-pitched scream rises from the crowd. "Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeil!"

Another calls for Andrew.

Jiro notices with a growing sense of nausea that more than one person is wearing a black and red jersey with the number one and the name Riko Moriyama. Someone points at him.

"What's going on?" David asks.

Jiro takes his hand, fully intending to lead him to the back seats, to hide him from the hungry gazes of the mob.

But just then, the crowd begins to part. In the chaos, Jiro can make out security trying to create a path, and a woman walking calmly in the middle.

Jiro's grip on David's hand tightens.

As always, the sight of Beatrice takes his breath away. Theo makes himself imperceptibly smaller and plants his eyes on the floor, while Melody...

Jiro searches for Malcolm until he finds her crouched in the last seat. She is watching Beatrice slowly approaching.

During previous visits from that demon, Malcolm has always managed to disappear before the woman could lay eyes on her. Now, with no way out and the demon's relentless advance, Malcolm has lost all color.

The pallor of her face reveals the light tinge of a bunch of freckles. For a moment, Jiro sees an animal in a corner, instead of the usual bloodthirsty beast.

And, in a flash, Jiro also sees himself, mirrored in her terror. Jiro's monster has never shown itself, has never laid hands on him personally. But with every pain and humiliation inflicted by his tutors, Jiro has always recognized the one puppet master.

The day Lord Ichirou will appear before his eyes, giving form to all his nightmares, Jiro really hopes he won't be alone, abandoned in the back seat while everyone turns their backs on him.

"All right, little birds," Beatrice says, knocking on the door. Security has now created a safe path toward the stadium's entrance. "You can get out."

Wesniski claps his hands and calls everyone together. He orders an orderly line and proceeds to open the door, as if he had no fear of welcoming the devil inside.

Theo hesitates for only a moment, but the obedience instilled in him since birth prevails. The young Woolridge lines up, hiding behind Judie's tall figure.

David has no problem proceeding. He only turns when he notices that Jiro hasn't moved yet.

"I'll be right there." Jiro gestures for him to go ahead and then steps back toward the rear seats.

"We're in public," Jiro reminds Malcolm, still motionless like a statue in her seat. "She can't do anything to you here."

The girl's eyes move from their demon to rest on the harmless second son of the Moriyamas. "I'm not afraid of her."

"If that were true, you'd already be dead. Put your pride aside for once, I'm offering you my support. You don't like me, and I don't like you, but that doesn't mean we can't collaborate. I know what that woman is capable of, and I have a vague idea of what she's put you through. You've been given a way out with this team. You just have to learn to trust us." To be even more direct, Jiro offers her a hand.

Malcolm stares at the outstretched hand, but surprise is quickly overtaken by suspicion. Her slap is weak, but the message is clear.

"What are you waiting for, back there? Move it! I said everyone out!"

Jiro nods politely at his coach and watches the appearance of Beatrice Malcolm on the bus.

The woman stands side by side with Nathaniel Wesniski.

The Butcher's son next to the Butcher's heir.

The line of Hatchlings begins to disembark from the bus, with Minyard leading the way.

Jiro sees David getting closer and closer to the door, closer to the woman, so he abandons his futile attempt at alliance and runs forward.

He joins the line, taking David's hand and placing himself between him and the Butcher.

Beatrice offers a smile to the children and sweetly comments on how obedient they are.

Jiro bows his head as he passes her, ignoring the shiver running down his spine.

Before stepping off the last step, Jiro looks back. Melody is still stuck in her seat.

"Mel, this is not the time to cause trouble," the coach yells. "Security won't be able to keep this crowd at bay for long. Come on, hurry up."

She won't get up, Jiro realizes. She will never voluntarily approach that woman.

Jiro lets go of David's hand and steps back up. "Miss Beatrice?"

The Butcher smiles at him. "Hello, little Jiro."

"I need you to deliver a message to Mr. Asahi on my behalf."

Jiro gestures for her to follow him with as much humility as he can muster.

The woman's smile becomes amused. She casts one last glance at the child crumpled in the back of the bus and finally turns to her prince with a calm "I understand."

So Beatrice follows him off the bus, where, to Jiro's horror, David hasn't moved on with the rest of the group but is standing still in the gap between the screams of the crowd, waiting for him.

"Your message?" The woman asks, whom rarely anyone had the courage to demean with such tasks.

"Please tell him that the third floor has been cleared."

David's eyes widen a bit too much, and he moves closer to cling to Jiro's arm. "What does that mean?"

Jiro bows again to the woman, pretending not to hear the child. Then, he firmly takes David by the hand and pulls him forward with quick steps.

Behind them, the woman proceeds more calmly.

Shortly after, even the two Butchers' children disembark from the bus.

…

The Saurus Court locker room is spacious and clean. No one is arguing or chatting. Everyone is busy putting on shorts and socks and staring at their shoes as if they might reveal the secret to avoiding an ignominious defeat.

Malcolm is sitting on a solitary bench, staring at nothing, while Theo is too busy biting his thumbnail to put on his jersey with the number three.

They had always known someone would come to judge them while they played, but the presence of Beatrice Malcolm, the Butcher of the Moriyama family, is always disconcerting. Once inside the stadium, the woman had separated from the rest of the group, but that is hardly comforting.

Ray is rummaging through his bag in complete silence, while Harry, Judie, and Sadie are sitting on the same bench, whispering in low voices. Wesniski watches them all from the locker room door, weighing them one by one with increasingly worried eyes.

Minyard is helping Cedric tie his shoes.

The stiffness that burdens the air is even thicker around David.

Jiro never knows how to handle his silence. Seeing David's body without hearing his voice is like a bright day without the sun. Jiro can't reconcile the two things.

"David?" He whispers. "Are you worried about the game?"

The child's hazel-golden eyes lift just a bit. "About that. And about... you-know-what," he replies with his awkward attempt at discretion.

By you-know-what, he must mean the third floor, Mr. Suji, and the matter of Jiro's criminal father. Even though David doesn't know half of what's going on, he's still reasonably scared.

Jiro promises himself once again that David won't get involved. That he will never know what happens on the third floor or how close he came to the hands of horrible murderers.

"You don't have to worry. About any of this. I've got everything under control."

David looks back at a specific spot, the one where Theo is still busy biting his nails.

"But..." David whispers. "But I'm right to worry, aren't I? The game will go badly. I'll make the whole team lose."

A determined knock interrupts the conversation, and Wesniski cautiously opens the door.

"Sorry for the intrusion. We just came to introduce ourselves."

Jiro hears the muffled voice of a man, which immediately becomes louder once Wesniski steps aside to let the newcomers in.

About ten children push past their coach to rush into the locker room with excited squeals.

For the first time since the unfortunate day they met, the Hatchlings experience a sense of unity, huddling together to stay away from the invading group.

"And sorry for all the noise in the parking lot! You have no idea how exciting it is for us to have all this attention on our little Court! Anyway, nice to meet you, Mr. Josten, I'm the Dinos' Coach, Benedict Moody. I'm a big fan of yours."

"Ah, thanks," Wesniski responds, shaking the man's hand.

"Are you David?" A girl's voice brings Jiro's attention back to the opposing team. "Are you really Kevin Day's son?"

A second child approaches, even more enthusiastic than the first. "Can you get him to sign this? It's the ball from my first game."

"Uh..." David looks at the hands in which the keepsake was shoved.

"And this?" Asks a third. "Can you get him to autograph his photo? Please?"

"I don't know... well..."

A racquet is thrust into his arms, and then even a helmet. Now the entire team has surrounded him and is talking to him all at once.

"But I... I rarely ever see him..." His complaints are lost in the flood of excited chatter.

Jiro steps forward to break the siege when Wesniski's voice booms.

"The relationship between David and Kevin Day is a speculation of the magazines. No one has ever confirmed anything. Now leave my striker alone."

The Dinos shrink a bit, some puzzled, others intimidated.

"Are you serious?" Coach Moody asks. "But... then Kevin Day is here to see Riko's nephew?"

Riko's nephew...

Jiro feels twenty eyes on the back of his neck, but the attention doesn't last long.

"Dad is here?" David asks with a hint of terror. First, he looks at his coach, who doesn't seem to have an answer, then he looks at Coach Moody, who doesn't know how to respond to the word "dad" after what Josten had just said.

"Yes! We saw him talking to the referee!" shouts one of the kids. He has dark eyes and hair, and a shirt with the number one. Axel Sanders, the team captain. He must have been the same age as Jiro, but he looks at least a year younger.

Minyard and Josten exchange a glance and a few quick words in Russian. Jiro tries his best to put to use all those lesson of bleeding Cyrillic, but all he can catch is the word "go."

Minyard separates from Cedric and approaches the door, completely ignoring the outstretched hand of the opposing coach. And there at the door, with his hand raised ready to knock, stands the world's first striker, Kevin Day.

There's not even a moment for a second of surprise; the little Dinos explode with joy, snatch all their keepsakes from David's hands, and run to the door to adore their idol.

Kevin Day puts on a perfect smile. He enters, skilfully avoiding Minyard's icy stare, and bends down to scribble autographs, shake hands, and hug children.

David is immobile. Jiro sees him as a pole standing firm in a storm. All the excitement seems not to touch him, yet Jiro knows that, on the inside, David is overwhelmed by an even greater turmoil.

The Hatchlings would lose their first game against the Dinos, a mediocre team that had never managed to qualify for nationals. And Kevin Day would witness his son's total defeat in person.

"David, hi!" Kevin calls to him with a smile once he manages to make his way through the Dinos. The man spreads his arms, inviting his son to come closer.

"What are you doing here?" David asks, planted to the ground as if his feet were nailed to the floor.

Kevin responds in slow French. He speaks in reassuring tones that alarm Jiro even though he can't understand a single word.

David makes a sharp sound in his throat and steps back, while Wesniski intervenes with an angry question posed in that melodic language.

Kevin ignores him and comes forward when he realizes his son has no intention of moving.

Wesniski protests again. Jiro watches Kevin as he picks up an increasingly distressed-looking David.

Jiro can't hold back. "What did you say to him?" Jiro steps forward, and when Kevin doesn't stop, Jiro grabs David's uniform. "Stop! Where are you taking him?!"

There is a moment, just one moment, when Kevin's eyes meet Jiro's, and the icy hatred he reads there is enough to make him lose his grip.

Wesniski places a hand on Jiro's chest to prevent him from following them out of the locker room.

The coach lets them go, though he looks far from happy.

"Where are they going?!" Jiro hears a sharp note in his voice that frightens him. He's losing control.

Wesniski presses his hand more firmly on Jiro's chest. In a low voice, he replies, "He's taking him in front of the journalists. He's going to acknowledge him as his son; they'll take a couple of smiling photos together..."

And David will be irreparably entangled in this horrible story.

"He mustn't! You have to stop him. I beg you, sir. It's a terrible choice."

"I don't think he was given a choice."

Chapter Text

David’s dad is watching from a special spot in the stands. Next to him is the woman David has seen a few times around their court. Bella? Beatrice? Something like that.

Around their nice little balcony, there are people.

People sitting, standing, shouting, applauding, whistling. As he walks toward the center of the court, David keeps spinning around to see them all.

There’s a lot of noise.

“Walk straight, you idiot,” Theo whispers behind him, just quiet enough not to be heard by their number one at the front of the line.

David focuses on keeping his eyes straight ahead, on the back of Jiro’s head.

As rude as Theo’s advice was, it proves helpful because as soon as Jiro stops on the midfield line, David manages not to bump into him.

He’s managed to avoid that first humiliation. Who knows how many minutes will pass before David completely embarrasses himself in front of all those thousands of people?

His feet are nervous. They lift him onto his toes, making him bounce on his heels...

David is aware of the glares Theo is giving him, but he can’t stop.

At least Jiro doesn’t seem bothered. No... Their captain seems almost as agitated as David’s feet. Every now and then, he scratches his hands, then puts them behind his back. Then he scratches them again.

The rest of the Hatchlings are also waiting in a neat queue for the Dinos to finish lining up on the opposite side.

Uncle Neil and the Dinos’ coach are talking with the referee. Who knows what they’re discussing? Who knows if they’re talking about David...

“Good luck.” A delicate voice startles him. There’s a little girl in front of him, wearing the Dinos’ green jersey, and she’s holding out her hand to David.

The entire opposing team has lined up while David was distracted.

“Um, thanks. You too.” David shakes her hand, and the girl smiles.

On her uniform, there’s the same number two that David wears so proudly.

Her smile gives him a small glimmer of serenity, a reminder of what he felt in the early days of training with the Hatchlings, before following Jiro that night, before realizing he wasn’t cut out for this sport.

The girl lets go of his hand and walks past to greet the captain. In her place, a chubby boy much taller than David appears.

David tries to shake his hand as well, but the Dinos’ number three slaps away his offer without even looking him in the face.

He tries to do the same to Jiro, but the captain lowers his hand before he can be hit.

Number three is taller than Jiro too. He must be even taller than Melody.

“They say courtesy opens all doors.” Jiro tries again to offer his hand.

Number three grabs it with a smirk.

David jumps when he realizes that the guy is intentionally crushing Jiro’s hand, but the captain is refusing to show any reaction.

That one’s going to be trouble, David thinks as number three turns to run back to his half of the court. The name Victor Johns is written on his back.

Number four is the same guy who threw his helmet and racket into David’s arms to get them signed by Kevin Day.

"... and maybe if he has time after the game, I could ask him a few questions. I have so much to tell him! And my brother would love to meet him too, if it’s not too much trouble, eh.”

David stands there, dumbfounded, as number four enthusiastically shakes his hand.

“I mean! How often do you get these kinds of opportunities? I mean... I actually met your dad in Russia at the last Olympics, but I only managed to get an autograph and a photo there. I’d really love to be able to...”

“Hurry up, Asad!”

Number five elbows her way to David and picks up exactly where Asad left off.

David always knew his father was famous and well-loved by his fans, but he had never been the center of all that attention.

“I... okay, well, I’ll let him know... sure... right...”

Only when the Dinos’ coach yells at his team not to block the line does David finally manage to shake hands with everyone.

Right after that, Uncle Neil gathers the Hatchlings on the sidelines with a simple whistle. The group puts on their helmets and grabs their rackets. And when everyone gathers around the coach, he almost seems unsure of what to say.

Then Uncle Andrew steps forward. He simply stands next to the coach without saying a word, and Uncle Neil seems to stand a bit straighter.

“You’ve worked hard to prepare for this moment. Whatever the outcome, I know you’ll have given your best.”

Ray chuckles softly, almost as if trying to hold back.

Neil gives him just a glance before continuing, “You know our game plan for today. You know our opponents. For this first game, I just want to see clean and cohesive play. I want to see you working together.”

About half a dozen heads nod. The rest of them don’t seem to be really listening.

The truth is, none of the Hatchlings believe they can win this game, even though the Dinos aren’t a particularly strong team.

No one has mentioned David’s name, but he can’t help but imagine their stares boring into the back of his head.

The referee blows the whistle, calling the teams to the field.

“And no bashing anyone’s head in!” is the last thing their coach manages to shout at them.

The names of the players in the starting lineup are announced.

Number one, Jiro Moriyama, first striker. And the crowd shakes the stadium with applause so loud that David jumps in fear.

Number two, David Day...

David’s role on the field is drowned out by the roar of the spectators. The name Day on an Exy court always has that effect.

David looks up at the balcony in the stands, the one where his father is clearly visible from every corner of the stadium.

Kevin raises a hand in greeting, but David can’t tell if he’s waving at him or at anyone who might be watching.

Number three, Theodore Woolridge, backliner.

Theo’s name was met with moderate applause and nothing more. David wonders if his parents were there to see him.

Number five, Melody Malcolm, offensive dealer.

Melody doesn’t even lift her head when her name is called. She’d been acting strange since the locker room. Or even since the bus.

Number seven, Harriet Manning, goalkeeper.

Harry waves to the crowd, earning a few more cheers.

Number nine, Ray Guerrero, backliner.

Sadie, Julie, and Cedric remain off the field with the coaches, waiting for their turn to be called into the game.

Julie, the most versatile of them, is tasked with replacing anyone too exhausted to play the second set. Meanwhile, according to the coaches’ plans, neither Sadie nor Cedric would set foot on the field that day.

But it wasn’t at all certain that Harry would be able to play a full game and adequately protect the goal.

After the Dinos’ lineup is announced, David finds himself running to the center of the court without even registering the starting whistle.

“Keep in mind which goal is ours, you idiot!” David isn’t sure which of his teammates yelled that advice at him, but he knows he needs to take it to heart.

Our goal. At that moment, it’s behind him, but as soon as he starts running around the court, he’ll lose his sense of direction.

The uniforms aren’t much help. Between the green-yellow of the Hatchlings and the light green of the Dinos, it takes David several precious seconds to recognize his allies.

The first ball of the game flies from the opposing captain’s racquet to a slender boy strategically placed on the opposite half of the court.

Ray intercepts it with his usual excessive force, and the slender boy loses the ball and his footing.

David manages to take a step toward the action before the referee blows the whistle to stop the game.

Yellow card?

Some of the Dinos snicker behind David’s back while the Hatchlings’ coach limps quickly toward the referee.

The two are too far away, but David can hear the words elbow and neck.

Uncle Neil wastes no time arguing the referee’s decision. The ball goes back to the Dinos, and Ray gets a few quick comments from the coach before he limps back behind the protective wall.

The game resumes, and this time it takes more than six seconds for Ray to annoy the referee.

David isn’t quite sure, but this time Ray must have lasted almost thirty seconds before tripping the Dinos’ number six.

The appearance of the second yellow card in the referee’s hands causes what all the Hatchlings expected.

Ray swears, loudly. Loud enough to be heard from the stands. He slams the tip of his racket to the ground and then points it at the referee as if he wanted nothing more than to aim at his head as well.

David doesn’t like Ray. He’s just a cruel bully. But hearing the spectators laugh at his outburst...

Somehow, that seems even crueler.

Uncle Neil had started limping onto the field the moment the referee raised the second card, but Uncle Andrew reaches Ray first.

David can’t hear what the two are saying, but it’s clear that Ray has completely lost his temper.
When the referee approaches with a stern stride, all the Hatchlings tense, knowing things could seriously escalate.

But Andrew quickly steps between the referee and their little psychopath. Meanwhile, Neil managed to reach the three. He picks up Ray’s racquet and orders him to retreat to the bench.

“Sent off in the first sixty seconds.” David hears Jiro mutter beside him. The captain gives him a glance through the bars of his helmet. “This is bad. With Cedric on the field, our defense is going to fall apart. Theo can’t protect the entire line on his own.”

David watches the exchange between Ray and Cedric on the coach’s bench. Cedric keeps his head down as he enters the court. On his way to his defensive position, he crosses paths with Andrew. Their assistant coach extends his hand, and Cedric doesn’t hesitate to give him a high-five, though his gaze remains fixed on the ground.

David fears Jiro might be right. Their defense would be completely compromised.

The referee announces the entry of number six, Cedric Hart, backliner.

“Remember the coach’s plan, David,” says Jiro. “Melody and I will handle the offense. You focus on distracting them.”

Distracting them. Which basically means stay out of the way.

David smiles and nods. Sometimes he does it without even realizing it. Sometimes he smiles and nods even when all he wants to do is scream and cry.

The penalty shot is taken by the Dinos’ captain, striker Axel Sanders.

Harry gets into position to block the shot. Axel rotates his shoulders, plants his feet firmly as if he’s going to shoot to the right. But he’ll shoot to the left. David can feel it, he’ll shoot to the left.

He’s watched so many exy games that now his instincts never fail him.

Axel’s racket bends back, and the shot is taken at a moderate speed.

David could have done better. David would have been fast, fast as a spark, and would have completely missed the goal.

Axel, however, hits the left corner with annoying precision.

Harry has his goalkeeper racquet ready. She could have blocked it if it had been slightly more to the left, slightly higher.

But in the end, the goal lights flash red. The Dinos cheer. The Hatchlings don’t even have the heart to be upset.

They expect it. They know they’re going to lose.

The next five minutes of play aren’t any better. The Melody/Jiro duo, usually so powerful, isn’t working today. Melody seems drained of her usual energy.

The Dinos quickly realize that Cedric is the weak link in the defense, and while two of them mark Theo, the Dinos’ number seven easily bypasses Cedric and reaches the goal area.

At three minutes and forty-five seconds, the score is two to zero.

“Malcolm!” Jiro shouts when the girl lets yet another easy ball slip by.

Melody lets out a frustrated cry as she chases after the opposing dealer. With a glimmer of her usual aggressiveness, Melody fights for ball possession, and with a couple of quick racquet movements, she succeeds.

Jiro gets into position to receive, but Melody is still oddly clumsy, oddly distracted.

David watches her as if in a dream, and as in a dream, something impossible happens—the ball flies toward him.

“What are you doing?!” Jiro yells angrily in Japanese.

David doesn’t have time to think. He catches the ball, turns. Which way is the goal? Which way? He’s too far from both, he should be running toward the opponent’s half. But...

The opposing captain is charging toward him, David doesn’t have time. His hands act before his brain, and the ball goes flying.

The crowd lets out a collective gasp of surprise. The ball shoots like a bullet, and the force with which it hits the protective wall silences the spectators.

Fast and powerful like a cannon, Grandpa David used to say. But a blind gunner isn’t much of an advantage.

David doesn’t have the courage to look. What happened? Did he hit someone? Did he score in their goal?

No... The ball rolled to the sidelines without anyone managing to claim it.

Theo and the opposing dealer exchange a glance, and in an instant, they both dash after it.

Theo blocks his opponent as if he’s holding a sword instead of a racquet. The referee, however, doesn’t whistle for a foul. Theo reaches the ball, lifts it with a single motion, and with an elegant and swift curve, it reaches the captain.

Jiro turns, aims, and scores on the opponent’s goal.

“Yes!” David jumps with a clenched fist. A traitorous desire makes him glance up at that balcony, looking for his dad. Has he seen how useful David is? How strong and fast he is?

But the great Kevin Day doesn’t seem very interested in his son’s play. At that moment, his eyes are only on Jiro.

“Don’t lose focus,” the captain yells. “We’re still behind!”

The excitement of that first point quickly fades. The Hatchlings spend the next few minutes in brutal defense.

Cedric ends up on the ground after a particularly aggressive check, and he stays curled up there for several seconds, so much so that the referee stops the game to call a medic onto the field.

Luckily, Coach Andrew gets there first, and keeps the medic away with his fiery glare. He gets the boy back on his feet and whispers something in his ear.

Cedric shakes his head.

“What’s going on?” David asks when Cedric and Andrew retreat together toward the bench.

“They’re substituting him,” Jiro, who always seemed to be just a few steps away from David whenever the action paused, replies. “Damn it. If only Ray hadn’t gotten red carded in the first minute, we could have used Judie to replace Melody.”

“Replace Melody?” Melody had never been substituted. She was the best on the team, along with Theo and Jiro.

The captain shakes his head disconsolately and looks up at the balcony among the stands. “Her mother is making her nervous. Malcolm is playing like a rookie.”

Her mother? The woman next to David’s dad?

David hadn’t believed anything could make Melody nervous.

“So what do we do?” David asks as Judie jogs onto the field with her usual cheerful mood.

Jiro looks down at David and sizes him up. “We have to win with what we have. Harry is a good goalkeeper; she’s already blocked five shots, and now that Judie is covering defense with Theo, our goal is as protected as it can be. Now our problem is the offense.”

David shrinks his head into his shoulders. He knows exactly what that sentence really means.

Now the problem is you.

“If Malcolm doesn’t intend to intercept the ball, I’ll do it. And you’ll act as the primary striker.”

“What?! But Coach said to stick to the plan!”

“The plan isn’t working. Coach Josten refuses to use the Hatchlings’ secret weapon, but as captain, I can decide otherwise.”

“What? What secret weapon?”

Jiro smiles. Even behind the helmet’s barrier, his eyes light up. “You’re the secret weapon, David.”

David shrinks even more.

“Are you crazy? It’s better if I don’t touch the ball at all.”

“I’ll be your dealer, and you’ll be my striker. Get into the opponent’s field and stay there. Don’t chase the ball. I’ll bring it to you. You just focus on the goal and that annoying goalkeeper. And remember... High or low. Right or left. Don’t shoot until you’ve called your shot.”

It’s madness. David is supposed to announce where he is shooting? During practice, it had worked. By forcing himself to think about which corner to shoot at, David managed to aim for the first time in his life, without his hands acting faster than his head.

The referee blows the whistle to resume play.

“Go! Do as I said! Trust me!” Jiro turns and quickly runs toward the ball.

David obeys, one foot in front of the other, and he quickly finds himself in the opponent’s area.
The Dinos’ defensive line looks at him curiously. What’s he doing there? Away from the action, away from all his teammates?

David clutches his racquet and takes a deep breath.

He watches the goalkeeper, number three, Victor Johns. Compared to David, Victor seems immensely tall and as thick as a wall. With number three as the last defense, the adversary goal looks much smaller.

The older boy grins at David while, on the other side of the court, the referee whistles for another point in favor of the Dinos.

Five to one.

It’s hard to believe the Hatchlings can make a comeback.

Nonetheless, David remains firmly in place, like a soldier on the front line.

He tilts his head just slightly to watch the action behind him. The Dinos' captain tries to get past Judie, but she’s anything but tired. Judie steals the ball and passes it to the captain.

The opposing dealer intercepts, passes to the striker, and the ball flies toward the goal.

Harry blocks it with an almost impossible stretch.

The ball is back in play. Theo grabs it almost immediately and, without missing a beat, passes to his captain.

David tenses up. Here we go.

Remember… High or low. Right or left.

Jiro shakes off his marker with three steps and gets into position to shoot. The Dinos' defense prepares to guard the goal, but the ball doesn’t fly toward them—it flies toward David.

Two Dinos sprint forward to bodycheck him, but they’re too far away.

The ball lands in David’s net, and he has to rein in his arms, like wild horses. Not yet, don’t throw yet.

High or low… right or left?

His feet position themselves for the throw. Victor realizes the shot is aimed at the goal and prepares to block it with that annoying grin of his.

"TOP RIGHT!"

David sees the shot in his mind, and his arms launch. Fast, powerful. Like a cannonball.

The ball hits the goalkeeper's net, and Victor's arm jerks back like a spring.

The goal light flashes red.

The stunned silence of the Dinos is shattered by the thunder of the crowd rising to their feet.

"DAY! DAY! DAY! DAY!"

It’s his name, repeated like the beat of a drum.

"Yes!" Jiro jumps on him, squeezing him in a hug. "You were born to be a striker!"

David feels dizzy, like when you spin too fast in a swivel chair and then feel like throwing up.

That had to be Jiro’s first real hug. And the crowd… they are cheering for him.

“What the hell was that?” David hears one of the opposing backliners asking his teammate.

“Do you think you’re that good?” asks another. “Do you think you can afford to announce where you’re going to shoot?”

“What a show-off.”

Among all those hostile voices, David is most unsettled by Victor’s silence. His grin has turned into a tight line, and his eyes promise revenge.

“Don’t let these kids intimidate you, David. Stick to the plan, and everything will be fine.”

But how could it work a second time?

David tries to trust his captain, but the doubt remains. By now, the Dinos were watching him more closely, knowing they had to be wary of him.

Yet, thanks to Jiro’s meticulous passes, David succeeds in his task again.

This time, “LOWER RIGHT!”

Victor again senses where the ball is going even before David announces it, but again, he can’t block it.

Their third attempt is blocked by an overly zealous backliner who tackles David before the ball even reaches his net.

The referee stops the game to assign a penalty shot to David Day.

The entire court clears. It’s just David and Victor, with that chant in the background. "DAY! DAY! DAY! DAY!"

David takes a deep breath before throwing.

“Don’t you dare,” hisses Victor from the goal. “Don’t you dare shout where you’re going to throw it.”

But David has to follow the plan. And besides… if he didn’t announce it, he’d end up throwing it completely at random.

Feet in position, arms ready…

"TOP LEFT!"

The stadium erupts in a mix of laughter and cheers. The goal light is red. The referee awards another point to the Hatchlings.

David feels like flying.

...

“What exactly was that?” Coach Neil asks during the halftime break.

Jiro doesn’t look him in the eye but keeps his back straight. “A new strategy, sir.”

Neil opens his mouth to respond, but in the end, he decides to close it and shake his head. “Very well,” he mutters. Then he turns to Melody, slumped on the bench. “And you? What’s wrong with you, girl? You’re not focusing.”

Melody shrugs, refusing to answer with words.

The game resumes after a quick sip of water and a pat on the back from the coach.

Five to four.

David trots onto the field, daydreaming about an unexplored possibility. Maybe they could even win.

But as the two teams line up, David notices something has changed. Two backliners have been replaced, but he only recognizes one of them—the kind number two who had greeted him so warmly at the start of the game.

David feels excited at the thought of playing against her. Maybe they’d become friends.

The game resumes, and the Hatchlings have possession of the ball. Judie passes to Jiro, Jiro passes to David, and David prepares to shoot.

Sweet number two steals the ball from his net without even needing to mark him. Then she passes it to one of the dealers.

Melody’s interception fails miserably, and the dealer continues into the Hatchlings’ territory. He passes to the striker, the striker shoots, and Harry saves it.

Judie turns to cheer for her friend; it’s the tenth ball Harry has managed to save.

In the following minutes, the Dinos grow more agitated. Even though the score remains stuck at five to four in their favor, it’s clear that the Hatchlings’ comeback is making them nervous.

At least until their captain manages to score the sixth goal.

From that point on, Jiro becomes more aggressive. He marks fiercely and touches the ball more than any dealer on the field.

David receives at least three passes per minute, but his markers are relentless. Especially number two. David can’t avoid her, can never predict what she intends to do, what her next move will be, and in the blink of an eye, the ball disappears from his net.

“Melody! Cover David, damn it! What are you waiting for?!” Jiro shouts after yet another lost ball.

Melody spins around. “Don’t you dare give me orders, you little prince!” She steps forward as if to attack him, and in an instant, Theo is in between them.

The game hasn’t been stopped. The Dinos still have control, and they take advantage of the holes in the Hatchlings’ formation to get the ball within a step of the goal.

“Guys! What the hell!” Judie yells, trying to tackle the striker. The ball rolls away unchallenged, and the referee blows the whistle to break up the scuffle that has erupted under the goal.

With twenty minutes left, the Dinos still dominate the game with six to four.

David needs to shake off his markers.

At any cost.

In the next action, as soon as Jiro gets his hands on the ball and passes it to David, he’s ready to fight his way to the goal, tooth and nail. But this means abandoning his position, running, passing the ball, dodging.

David has moved too far from his original spot, and when he finally has the ball in the net and space around him to set up, his brain can’t think. He has to shoot. He has to shoot NOW!

The cannon fires, and the ball rockets forward with murderous speed. It flies… flies with the velocity of a diving hawk. And to his horror, David realizes the goal he’s aiming for isn’t guarded by the Dino’s burly goalkeeper.

Harry grips her racket. This isn’t the first time she’s had to save one of David’s own goals, and she knows how deadly they can be.

Oh, please, Harry, don’t miss…

The ball flies, the crowd holds its breath, and Harry…

Shifts position at the last moment, realizing she’s too high. In that sudden movement, the ball strikes the racquet's pole, right where Harry’s fingers are tightly gripping the handle.

No red light comes on, but Harry doubles over with a soft groan that somehow even David can hear.

“Harry!” Judie leaps forward as the referee blows the whistle to pause the game.

Both coaches enter the field at a quick pace.

David, though… he’s too ashamed to get closer. What has he done?

Coach Neil gently takes Harry’s hand and helps her remove the glove. Then he turns to signal something to the referee.

Harry is escorted off the field, and meanwhile, to David’s horror, he sees the referee raise a red card.

“B-but it was an accident…” he mutters under his breath.

His legs feel like cement. In the stands, his father seems too busy talking to the lady next to him to notice David’s first red card.

Maybe that’s for the best.

David glances apologetically at all his teammates and, head down, leaves the field.

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

The girl has already removed her helmet and is pressing an ice pack against her fingers. “It’s just a bruise.” She smiles. “Nothing broken.”

David looks up at Uncle Neil and Uncle Andrew, waiting for someone to scold him. But no one seems angry at him.

Uncle Neil even gives him a pat on the shoulder. “This referee’s a real jerk. Don’t worry, David. You played well.”

Well? He just hurt a teammate and got red carded.

Maybe he doomed the match.

The Hatchlings’ defense starts to falter when Cedric takes Judie’s place and Judie covers David’s position.

“You ready, Pumpkin?” Andrew asks a clearly terrified Sadie. “It’s your time to shine.”

Sadie shakes her head vigorously.

“You can do it.” Andrew tries again. “Remember what we worked on. Watch their movements, and you can predict where they’ll shoot. Unless someone’s kind enough to announce it directly. That helps too.”

David lowers his head, embarrassed. He can’t tell if that jab was an innocent joke or if Andrew was blaming him for their impending defeat.

Sadie has to make a little jump to get down from the bench; her feet don’t touch the ground when sitting.

Coach Andrew helps her tie her helmet and grip the racquet. Then the little girl is ready to take her place on the field.

There’s a heavy silence in the stadium as Sadie crosses the court to reach the goal.

A couple of Dinos snicker and turn to look at each other, astonished.

Come on, Sadie! David thinks furiously. Hold strong!

The game resumes, and David can barely keep his eyes on the ball. Is it really possible that it moves so quickly?

Is Jiro really that agile?

Somehow, Judie manages to cover for Cedric’s weak defense while still serving the ball to Jiro.

Jiro attacks, aggressive and relentless. The ball heads for the goal, but Victor manages to block it.

Damn it!

Stil, for the last ten minutes, the Hatchlings have managed to keep the ball away from their goal and close to the opponent’s.

Jiro gives the Dinos’ backliners no rest.

David can almost see the sweat dripping under Jiro’s helmet and his legs trembling with fatigue every time he stops for a moment.

“He’s going to get hurt,” says Andrew, without specifying who he’s talking about or to whom.

Neil’s expression turns worried. When Jiro stumbles over his own racquet, Neil raises his hands uncertainly, almost about to call a time-out.

But Jiro gets back up.

David’s fingers ache from how tightly he’s gripping the bench.

Judie throws the ball to the captain as he straightens up. Jiro grabs it and doesn’t even take time to aim. He just shoots.

And the ball goes through.

“Yes!” David and Ray shout at the same time, though Ray immediately seems embarrassed at letting that bit of enthusiasm slip.

Five minutes to go.

David wants nothing more than to be on the field. His feet keep bouncing, ready to run, and run, and run.

“Six to five,” comments Andrew. “A good score.”

But Neil doesn’t reply. His eyes are fixed on his young players.

The game resumes.

Four minutes and thirty seconds.

Four minutes and fifteen seconds.

Jiro is in the goal area, surrounded by opponents ready to mark him. The girl who caused David so much trouble is trying all her tricks on Jiro. The ball is almost lost.

Jiro faces her directly, balancing his racquet and hitting her chest with his shoulder. The girl ends up on the ground, and the ball flies toward the goal.

Victor blocks the opposite side of the ball’s trajectory, and the light turns red.

“Yellow card for Moriyama.”

Since the referee doesn’t assign a penalty shot, Jiro doesn’t even seem to care about the foul. There are four minutes left, and the Hatchlings are tied six to six with the Dinos.

But the next action starts with the opponents in possession. The Dinos are furious. Their captain throws the ball as if he wants to drive it through Jiro’s skull.

The opposing offense manages to penetrate the Hatchlings’ area, and here Theo steps up as if he’s the last soldier guarding the vanguard. Considering Cedric and Sadie are in defense, David is tempted to agree.

The Dino captain tries to get past Theo, but he’s intercepted by Theo’s racket. The second striker steals the ball and prepares to shoot, but Cedric, of all people, gets in the way!

It’s not a very effective boy check, but it’s enough to buy time for Theo to reposition himself, steal the ball, and pass it to Judie at the halfway line.

Judie looks around frantically. Jiro is near the opponent’s goal but is already marked on all sides. Melody, however… The Dinos have stopped paying attention to her.

Judie looks from one to the other until she moves her arm to pass to the captain… only to fake at the last moment and aim for her arch-nemesis.

The bluff had been enough to keep two of the defenders away from Melody, but one of them wasn’t fooled.

Melody catches the ball and is immediately blocked by number two.

Oh, no…

David watches as the little girl ends up on the ground again, and Melody takes a shot at the goal.

This time, Victor guesses the direction correctly, but the ball still manages to slip past him.

The red light flashes, and the referee blows the whistle.

Yellow card for Melody and a penalty shot for the Dinos.

David looks at the scoreboard. It’s hard to even comprehend: seven to six for the Hatchlings, with four seconds left.

That penalty shot would be the final action of the game.

All the Hatchlings’ eyes turn in unison toward their goal. Sadie looks tiny, almost ridiculous, standing at the center of it.

If nothing else, they will at least tie. It’s more than any of them had expected.

Still, it’s hard not to be disappointed that the win slipped away from them so fast.

The court is cleared. The referee announces who will take the penalty shot—Diana Bells.

Number two steps forward.

The entire scene lasts just two seconds.

The referee blows the whistle, Diana shoots, and the ball flies toward the goal.

And Sadie’s racket is right there, between the ball and the goal line.

The ball slides down the racket, bouncing cheerily along the court.

Sadie watches it roll away. Then she lifts her head to check the goal light, but her helmet falls over her eyes, and she has to undo it to see clearly.

The light remains off.

The Hatchlings have won their first game.

Chapter Text

The Hatchlings had won, and Melody wanted nothing more than to run away. 

Beatrice had remained on the balcony overlooking from the stands for the entire game, wearing that slimy smile of hers, whispering in Kevin Day’s ear. 

Melody knows her mother has no real interest in watching her play, yet she is certain… Beatrice hadn’t taken her eyes off her the whole game. 

The unbearable chatter of her teammates follows her to the locker room. Melody keeps walking until she reaches her locker. 

She takes off her helmet, gloves, and all the protective gear. Then, she grabs her towel and makes her way to the showers. 

The murmur of the other girls in the nearby stalls gradually fades away until Melody is the only one left. 

There is something perversely satisfying about being shut in that cubicle. Melody can feel her heart pounding harder, her breathing growing ragged. 

Her hands move of their own accord, pressing against the walls, as if trying to keep them from crushing her. 

Melody forces herself to stay in there until she can control her fear. If she can overcome her terror of tight spaces, her mother would have one less weapon to use against her. 

But the longer she stays, the more the stall seems to close in. Her breathing grows more labored, and her knees begin to tremble. 

The water flowing over her head seems intent on drowning her, filling her mouth and nostrils. 

Melody hadn’t managed to do anything during the whole game. Nothing useful, at least. 

She had trained in that stupid game for years, and now that it truly mattered for her to succeed, she had failed. 

The child Melody once was tries to cry, but the girl prevents her. 

Any show of pain or fear had always worsened her punishments. So Melody had learned very early on that she could be silent, absolutely motionless, no matter what her mother’s twisted mind subjected her to. 

“Melody?” Harry’s gentle voice strikes Melody with all the irritation she can muster. “Are you okay? We’re all ready.” 

Melody remains silent, absolutely motionless. Beatrice is still out there. She would escort them onto the bus. She would smile at the Butcher’s son, and then she would smile at her. 

Harry’s footsteps echoes as she walks away. 

Melody turns off the water. Sooner or later, she would have to go out. She has no intention of being dragged out. She certainly isn’t going out because soon the walls would crush her. 

She can endure it. She can endure anything. 

The sound of the shower stops, but the water doesn’t seem to cease flowing. 

What…?

Melody looks down and holds her breath. She reaches a hand towards her legs but stops before touching that thin red streak. 

What is happening to her? Why is she bleeding? 

Her back touches the cold tiles, and the stall walls immediately seems to suffocate her. She grips the walls with her hands, trying to keep them at bay. 

Breathe. She orders her lungs. 

It was just blood. Melody had seen buckets of it in her short life. Though she’d rarely spilled her own. 

The girl doesn’t notice the approaching footsteps until a fist knocks on her stall. 

“Melody.” The Butcher’s son’s voice calls out. “Are you okay?” 

Melody feels nothing. Her arms can keep the walls at bay, and that is all that matters. 

“If you don’t answer me, I’ll have to open the door.” 

Melody continues to stay silent. She remains still, absolutely motionless. 

Nathaniel slids a stiff piece of paper into the latch of the door, lifting the lock and swinging the door open. 

Melody would have time to feel the humiliation of being found in that state, but at that moment, the only thing she feels is relief at being able to breathe again. Now that the door is open, the walls are back in their place. 

Nathaniel’s gaze weighs her naked form, the blood between her legs. 

Melody is sure he would start asking her how she could have hurt herself there, especially with all the game’s protective gear. But Nathaniel says nothing. He simply hands her the towel. 

The girl takes it but doesn’t try to cover her naked body. She merely dabs at the water and blood and then leaves the stall to reach her locker. 

“Wait,” Nathaniel says as Melody is putting on her underwear. He leaves the locker room, returning shortly after with a packet. 

“What is it?” Melody asks, watching as he unwraps the packet. 

“It’s a pad,” he replies, handing her the item. “You don’t know how to put it on?” 

Melody continues to stare at him. 

“You have your period. Has this never happened before?” Now the Butcher’s son looks embarrassed. 

The girl, however, is simply confused, but she wouldn’t show it. 

“That’s why you’re bleeding,” he explains. “But it’s nothing serious. It’ll pass in a few days. You just need to put this on your underwear.” 

Nathaniel unfolds the thing and tries to hand it to her again, but when she makes no move to take it, the Butcher’s son seats on the bench and gestures for her to come closer. 

Melody still hasher underwear lowered, and that man is asking her to come closer. 

It would be wonderful if Nathaniel turns out to be a pedophile. That bastard Minyard wouldn’t come out of it sane. 

But Melody doesn’t really believe Nathaniel would try something like that. The Butcher’s son is a bastard through and through; he had betrayed his family and everyone associated with it, selling them all out to the police. But his boyfriend’s past made him too furious to have any connection with such things. 

Nathaniel positions the pad on her underwear and then tells her to get dressed. 

Melody is too tired to resist. He leaves the locker room again, and she finishes getting ready. 

She joines the others in the hallway where they are all waiting for her. 

“Is everyone here?” Minyard asks, with Sadie nearly asleep in his arms and Cedric firmly gripping his hand. 

“Yes, Coach,” Jiro and Harry reply together. 

“Melody.” Nathaniel calls her. “Here.” He hands her a pack filled with more of those things. There is a girl on the packaging smiling in her underwear. Melody looks at the package, confused. 

Beside her, Theo snickers with that annoying voice of his and Jiro tells him to shut up. 

“What’s that?” David asks, but Jiro tells him to be quiet too. 

Melody has never felt so stupid as when she was as confused as David. 

“Can we go?” Minyard asks. 

“One moment! Allow me to say goodbye!” That harmonious voice freezes Melody in place. 

Beatrice approaches with her smile. “I offer you my sincere congratulations.” 

Only a few of the children responds with some murmurs, feeling uneasy in the coaches’ stoic silence. 

Melody tries to look anywhere but into her mother’s eyes. The Butcheress. 

An inherited title, not at all deserved. 

After Nathan Wesniski’s death, someone had to take his place as the Moriyamas’ Butcher, but Nathaniel’s confession to the FBI had wiped out anyone who could have followed in his bloody footsteps. 

Beatrice had never wielded a knife in her life. She didn’t like blood. Yet, if someone needed to disappear, if someone needed to suffer… Ichirou Moriyama had been satisfied with Beatrice Malcolm’s work for years. 

“You were all essential to this first victory of yours.” The woman’s cruel eyes settle on the girl. “Or almost all of you.” 

Melody had expected something like this. She continues to stay still, silent. 

But then Beatrice takes a step forward and kneels in front of her, and their eyes meet. 

Melody stops breathing. If Beatrice decides to grab her, nothing would save her. She would grab her by the hair, by the wrists, by the ankles. She would drag her into a hole in the ground, into a coffin. She would bury her alive until Melody learned to stop screaming, to stop pounding, to stop kicking.

“What do we have here?” her mother asks, observing the packet she helds in her hands. “Finally a little lady, huh? Congratulations.”

She is so close... Melody can count every freckle. But she can’t breathe. She can’t…

“She doesn’t like you,” says a harsh voice, limping forward. Nathaniel grabs Beatrice by the arm and pulls her up, forcing her to stand.

“Really?” asks the Butcheress, with an innocent grin.

“No. Stay away from her.”

Melody had done nothing to show her fear. Melody isn’t afraid. So why had Nathaniel intervened?

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to obey.” The woman laughs, knowing she has more authority than the man she hates.

Melody had spent her childhood hearing about Nathaniel Wesninski. About how he had betrayed the family. About how he had caused Nathan and Lola’s deaths. Beatrice hated cowards and traitors more than she hated her own daughter.

If it hadn’t been for a direct order from Ichirou, Beatrice would have already hung Nathaniel upside down.

“She’s gone,” Jiro whispers in her ear.

Why is he telling her this? Melody doesn’t care. Even though now she can finally blink and follow the others out of the stadium.

An ocean of reporters press against security. They call out Jiro’s name, David’s name, and the coaches’ names. They snapp photos of the two children holding hands.

“Josten! A question!”

“Why did Kevin hide his son for eight years?”

“What’s it like raising the heir to Riko Moriyama?”

“Andrew! Why did you leave exy?”

Their bus is not far away. They hurry inside. Melody finds her isolated spot in the back row.

When she sits down, she realizes she still has that packet in her hand.

Finally a little lady.

What did that even mean? Suddenly, Melody feels small again. Tiny. Ignorant. Useless.

“Mel?” The Butcher’s son sits next to her. He looks sad. “What happened back there? Do you know that woman?”

Melody always knew when someone was mocking her, or thought she was stupid. Like when they showed her to her new room. Melody knew there would be some cruel prank inside, to pay her back for all the trouble she had caused.

And sure enough, she found that cupboard. They had made holes for air. If she did something unforgivable, she would end up in there, and Nathaniel could leave her there for days and days, without even the risk of her passing out.

Nathaniel knows who Beatrice is, and he knows who she is to Melody.

Who else could have advised him to torture her with that cupboard?

Melody turns on her seat, refusing to look at him.

Nathaniel sighs. “Listen. In a few hours, when we stop at a rest area, go to the bathroom and change your pad. If you don’t know how to do it, I can explain.”

Melody doesn’t want to listen.

“I don’t know much about women. But when I was a kid, I spent a lot of time with my mother. It was a chaotic situation. We often had to hide in disgusting places, subway bathrooms, motels near brothels. She never wanted to be far from me, so I never had much privacy, and neither did she. I’m not sure what one should say the first time a girl gets her period. Just know that it’s okay. My mother hated every time it happened, but she never suffered much from it.”

The girl still helds that package tightly in her hands. She wants to throw it out the window, but she doesn’t have the strength to get up and try to open it. And it would be stupid. A dramatic, childish whim.

And Melody is not a child.

At the rest area stop, Melody pretends not to hear Nathaniel calling her. She stays on the bus while everyone else gets off to stretch their legs and buy some snacks.

When they return, Nathaniel places a shopping bag on her lap.

Melody holds out for about half an hour. Then, when they are all far away and half asleep, she peeks into the bag.

Inside is a chocolate bar, a small hot water bottle, and a teddy bear.

Melody dugs into the teddy’s neck with her nails for the rest of the trip. When it is time to get off, she lets the bear’s head fall at Nathaniel’s feet and continues walking toward the Eyrie.

Reaching her room, closing a door between herself and the whole world is a relief she doesn’t want to acknowledge.

The Butcher’s son keeps dancing around his real intentions. Just like Beatrice. One day she would smile gently and offer a caress, and another day she would push her underwater in the pool until she passed out.

Nathaniel is the same. He alternates between caresses and torture.

Melody stares at that cupboard. She hadn’t stepped inside yet, even though she should have, to prove to herself that she could do it.

Then she looks at the safe. It is small, almost ridiculous, but it is big enough for a gun.

Nathaniel had let her keep it, as if he wanted to challenge her to shoot. Him or Minyard. Or maybe herself.

The girl approaches the safe and enteres the code.

Inside is the gun she had stolen from her mother. And the USB stick she had taken from the Moriyama archives.

Melody is tired of waiting for Nathaniel to attack for real. The waiting is becoming unbearable.

The girl takes the stick, wrapped in a pretty little gift box. That is her insurance. She had brought it with her to pay back any wrongs she might suffer in there.

A voice in her head tells her to stop. Nathaniel doesn’t deserve it yet. He hadn’t really hurt her.

But Melody refuses to listen. Nathaniel sold out the Wesninskis. He is the reason all of the Butcher’s men had been killed or arrested. He is the reason Beatrice had been the only choice left. He is the reason Melody had lived in hell since the day she was born.

The girl takes the little box and leaves her room. She also leaves behind the children’s large room and crosses the hallway.

Nathaniel and Minyard have already gone to the cafeteria. They have left their room unprotected.

Melody slips inside and, with a few cautious steps, places the gift box on the bed.

A cat trots out of the bathroom and watches her with big bright eyes.

Melody smiles, gives it a couple of pats, and leaves the room.

Chapter Text

The bowl of soup under Neil’s nose remains untouched. The voices of the children blend together in the cafeteria, while Andrew’s voice, insistently saying something, fades into the background. 

Neil’s eyes are glued to his phone, to the news feed. 

“The number 1 and number 2 of exy are back!” 

In less than five hours since the start of the Little League Championship’s first match, every exy magazine was talking about the Hatchlings. Riko’s fans, who for some reason still haven’t stuck their heads in an oven, wasted no time making Jiro their new darling. 

But the real star is David. A video was uploaded to YouTube in which the boy clearly shouted where he would throw the ball, and moments later, he shot a cannonball straight into the goal. 

The video already has half a million views. 

Neil tries to swallow the nausea that’s been plaguing him since the start of the match, but all he manages to force down is a lump of saliva. 

The hum in the background turns into an unbearable white noise until a few words break through the interference. 

“…threw away your orange bandana…” 

“You what?!” Neil snaps to his right. 

Andrew crosses his arms and gives him an unimpressed look. “Ah, now you’re listening? I told you to close that damn article and to call that crazy captain of the Black Falcons and accept his offer.” 

The Black Falcons…? Oh, right. The paralympic exy team Matt had gotten in touch with. 

Neil just waves a hand to brush away the thought. He’d already said he wouldn’t join their team. He has no intention of playing a watered-down, bland version of exy. 

Especially when their enthusiasm is such a stark contrast to what he feels. 

I know you can’t believe me right now, but the life of an amputee is fucking awesome. 

“I’m going to review the Lily Pads’ matches. Tonight, I’ll start planning our next strategy.” 

Neil gets to his feet pushing away the untouched plate. 

“Did you listen to a single word I said?” Neil hears Andrew’s voice rise in irritation. 

He should pay attention, and he knows it, but he feels tired. Very tired. The phantom pain has become a constant presence in the background, and his head keeps replaying Riko’s face. And Jiro… who had dragged the entire team on his back. 

Neil glances at the kids before leaving the cafeteria. They all still seem excited about their victory, except for the usual grumpy ones: Cedric, Ray, Melody… 

Neil turns the corner and feels a bit reassured knowing that Andrew would take care of putting the little beasts to bed. 

He opens the door cautiously, to prevent Sir from running out, and limps inside. 

He sees the gift package on the bed right away. 

It’s a small red box, complete with a ribbon. It’s placed at the foot of the bed, on top of the cream-colored blanket. 

Andrew never gets tired of buying gifts, especially if they’re clothes, and especially if Neil thinks he doesn’t need them; but wrapping or tying a bow is definitely not his style. 

So Neil proceeds cautiously. He approaches the bed, lifts the box slowly, and gently unties the ribbon. 

He moves his hands away from his face when he decides to lift the lid, in case any toxic substances waft out. 

No particular smell comes from the package, so Neil carefully brings the object closer to examine it. 

It’s one of those things you plug into a computer. Neil scratches his head. 

This is definitely not Andrew’s doing. He would never assume Neil would know what the hell to do with that thing. 

It takes five minutes of internal debate to decide to try and figure out what it is, and at least another fifteen to understand how to turn on Andrew’s laptop and insert the damn thing (“This side? No, this one? Not that either. How is this possible? There are only two sides. Ah, right, it was the first one.”). 

Neil settles more comfortably against the pillow. He still has the prosthetic attached, lazily resting on the blanket. He should take it off, but curiosity takes precedence. 

A window pops up on the screen with only one folder inside: “N. A. Wesniski.” 

Neil feels his limbs go cold, even the one that’s missing. 

Nathaniel Abram. 

He doesn’t stop to think about the consequences or implications. Neil clicks on the folder. The mouse cursor starts spinning furiously. 

Loading, loading… there’s a lot to load. 

One by one, black rectangles with strings of numbers and letters underneath appear on the new page. 

They keep appearing. 

Neil watches without understanding. Should he open one? How should he choose? There must be hundreds of them. 

With difficulty, Neil manages to scroll back up to the top, to the first black rectangle. 

He clicks. 

“On your feet. You know better than to sit in my presence.” 

Neil loses his grip on reality. Watching the man on the screen move, Neil forgets where he is, how much time has passed. 

He finds himself in the body of the boy sitting in the corner of the screen, stumbling to his feet and obeying. 

Nathan Wesniski pads across the room towards his son. “Hello, Junior.”

A wheezing sound occupies the space of the momentary silence in the video. Neil can’t speak; he can only stare at that boy covered in blood and burns and try to accept the reality that he had been that boy. Many years ago. In Baltimore. 

That is the cellar of his childhood house. 

That is his father punching him on his fresh burns. 

The boy drops, only to be caught again by those evil hands. Neil’s fingers scrape at the scars on his cheek.

There had been a camera? That thought floats in his mind, only in the background. 

“I said hello.” 

The boy who had been Nathaniel gives in with trembling lips, “hello,” and something in Neil’s chest burns hot. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” 

Neil can’t. He won’t. He shuts his eyes and tries to make it all stop. Go away! You’re not here! You’re dead! You died! 

Every inch of his skin shakes. His mouth tastes like blood. 

“My son. My greatest disappointment in life. Where is my second greatest?” 

“Mom is dead.” Nathaniel’s voice has not completely broken yet. It is shrill. He sounds like a child. 

Good Lord. 

Neil opens his eyes and stares at that scrawny boy. He is a child. 

Just a child. 

A sob leaves his lips. 

“I might skin you alive. I might take you apart one inch at a time and cauterize the wounds. I think no matter what I choose, we are going to start by slicing the tendons in your legs. You’re not going to run away this time, Nathaniel. I’m not going to let you.”

Nathaniel knows he is doomed, but he still pretends bravery. He spits curses and tries to bolt the moment Di Maccio appears with a cleaver and axe in hand. 

Neil has never been so aware of his missing leg, of his inability to run. 

He stares at the boy moving fast on his feet, despite the wounds and the terror. He stares at him and knows he will never be him again. He is never going to get out of that alive again. 

The moment Nathan gets hold of the weapons, Di Maccio catches Nathaniel and smashes him against the wall, crushing him like a ragdoll. 

Neil feels the pain of his bones bending. There is an awful sound in the room. His wheezing breath and his thundering heart numb his ears. 

Neil can’t watch. He shouldn’t watch. He tries to reach for the laptop, to close the screen, to make it stop, make it all stop. But his hand doesn’t make it. He can’t make himself touch the thing. 

His palms run to his eyes, covering them. But his ragged breath is still so loud… he tries covering his ears instead, while his body starts gently rocking. 

“Would you like the pleasure of crippling him?” The monster’s voice reaches him anyway. His cleaver is on the boy’s throat, but Nathaniel doesn’t seem as worried about that as he is about the idea of losing his legs. 

Tears rise to Neil’s eyes. Neil’s hand moves to his mouth. He doesn’t remember the last time he cried. 

“If you do not sit the fuck still, I will gouge your eyes out.” 

Neil tries to stop moving, tries to stop breathing so loudly, to stop existing so unequivocally. 

“Please,” the teary voice of a child begs. “Please don’t.” 

Neil is suddenly seized by the arms, and all he can do is pray that it will be quick. 

“It’s me!” The hands that are holding him shake him. “Neil!” 

His eyes slowly try to focus. Andrew. Andrew is holding him. What is Andrew doing here? He is not supposed to be there. He can never have Andrew and his father in the same room together. 

Neil cannot move or speak. He can only let go of another sobbing breath. 

“Please, just let me go, just let me go, I’m not—” The boy’s voice breaks in complete panic. 

Andrew shoots a vicious look at the screen and shuts it with so much force something cracks. 

When the boy’s cries don’t immediately stop, Andrew grabs the laptop and throws it at the nearest wall. 

Andrew is angry, is the only lucid thought Neil manages to form. Nothing else is lucid about him at the moment. He is still rocking back and forth, his hands still clutched over his mouth, tormenting his lips. 

Andrew forces his shoulders to drop. He crawls closer to Neil while trying to soften his expression. 

He puts his hands on Neil’s cheek and uses his thumbs to wipe away the tears. 

“You’re okay,” Andrew whispers. “You’re safe. He’s gone. He’s dead. He’ll never hurt you again.” 

Neil tries to nod, but he doesn’t feel in control of his body yet. He still can’t move. 

Andrew’s thumbs caress his cheeks again, going over his scars with gentle strokes. 

“Neil, what the fuck were you watching?” 

It doesn’t seem like Andrew is actually waiting for an answer. Neil has no words to explain it. He just tries to focus on Andrew’s hands; he slowly closes his eyes, and… little by little, his breathing slows down. 

His rocking stops, but the tears don’t. 

Neil doesn’t know how to command them to stop. The feeling of the streaks on his cheeks feels so alien but also weirdly soothing. 

“Yes or no?” 

Neil blinks. The question alone has an immediate calming effect on him. He slowly nods, and Andrew moves his hands from Neil’s cheeks to his back. 

Andrew is holding him close, hugging him tight. 

Neil closes his eyes and breathes in his scent. He remembers where he is. When he is. 

Neil’s arms move of their own accord, engulfing Andrew to keep him as close as possible. 

“I’m okay now.” 

Andrew quickly lets go of him and tries to slap him with his stare alone. “Tell me what happened then, Mr. Okay.” 

Neil glances at the floor, where the carcass of the laptop lies quietly. Andrew follows his gaze. 

“What was that video?” 

Neil looks back at Andrew with confusion. He didn’t guess? Maybe he arrived too late in the video. 

“The first year of college, in Baltimore.” 

Andrew reserves another vicious look for his computer. “When they took you away from me.” 

Neil tries to push out a small laugh for that. “You know I cannot be trusted to be on my own.” 

Andrew doesn’t find it funny. He doesn’t even acknowledge that Neil has spoken.  “How did you get that video?” 

“I don’t know.” Neil waves vaguely in the direction of the little open box on the bed. “There was one of those things you stick in the laptop.”

Andrew pieces together what Neil is talking about by glancing at the box, then at the shattered computer.

He slowly climbs down from the bed and approaches the damaged device. Before even touching it, he removes the USB stick and lets it drop onto the floor. Then he tries to open the laptop, holding the screen away from Neil’s view.

“Dead?” Neil asks.

Andrew shrugs, and after clicking a couple of times, he gets back on the bed and shows Neil the cracked desktop screen and the colorful pixels clustering in the bottom right corner.

“Still usable.”

Neil can’t stop himself from glancing at the stick on the floor. There’s a perverse urge in him to pick it up and… There were so many black rectangles in that folder. What could the other videos show? If there was a camera in the cellar and he had never noticed, what else might have been recorded without his knowledge?

Had his father’s death been recorded?

Neil would...

He would like to see that.

“Where are you going?” There’s a tinge of panic in Andrew’s voice, something unexpected and concerning.

Neil only has one leg over the edge. “I just want to—”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He’s right. Neil just got out of a panicked state, and he doesn’t want to spiral into a new one. But still...

“I didn’t know what I was getting into before, but now I know what to expect. I can handle it.”

Andrew’s eyes turn skeptical. Well, Neil doesn’t have as much confidence in himself as he’s showing, but he keeps that to himself.

He climbs down from the bed and slowly makes his way toward the tiny stick.

There’s nothing on it to indicate who sent it or why. Just a plain, glossy black USB stick.

Neil stares at it for a long time.

He can’t form a coherent thought, but some sort of resolution drives him.

He goes back to the bed, climbs onto it with his stiff leg dragging along, and stretches the hand holding the stick toward the laptop.

Andrew covers the port with two fingers.

There’s a pause, a silence in which they quietly assess each other, until Andrew shakes his head.

“I had to do years of long, grueling work in therapy before I was ready to look back on my traumatic experiences.”

“This is different.”

“In what way?”

“What happened to me wasn’t as—”

“Neil.” Andrew raises a hand to stop him. “I don’t feel very calm right now. I don’t want to fight. Just drop that sentence and try again with a better one.”

“I—” Neil stammers. “I feel strange about what I’ve seen. It’s like I could never really... remember it. But I... I do remember all of it. How could I forget? I... I don’t know what I mean, sorry.”

Andrew takes a deep breath and then lets it out in a sigh. He closes his eyes and leans back against his pillow propped against the wall.

Neil gives him his moment. He tries to get more comfortable on the bed.

“What you want to do is very dangerous,” Andrew finally says after opening his eyes. “Do you remember when I did trauma narrative with Bee?”

Neil shudders. He remembers. Andrew could barely function that year. He couldn’t bear being touched. He suffered from both night terrors and insomnia.

“But you felt better afterward,” Neil says. “Since then, you’ve been having fewer and fewer attacks. You barely have nightmares anymore.”

“Because I was led by a professional!” Andrew blurts out. “Neil! For the love of God! Go to therapy!”

Neil doesn’t want to pout, but he does anyway. Therapy will never work for him. He can’t trust someone that way. The only person he really trusts...

“You could do it.”

Andrew just stares at him, his lips a flat line. “I. Am not. A therapist.”

“But you’ve been doing it for so long! I bet you know more about it than actual professionals!”

Andrew puts a hand on his forehead and sighs heavily. He probably regrets ever meeting Neil.

When he looks up again, something in his eyes has shifted. “Be honest with me: is there anything that could ever convince you to go to therapy?”

Neil takes his time to think it over properly. Andrew is serious, and he needs to be, too.

“No, Drew. I can’t see myself doing it under any circumstances. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Andrew says, though he sounds angry. He takes another long breath through his nose. Then he turns to Neil and takes the stick out of his hand.

“I want you to really understand what you’re asking me. This might make you feel better, but it also might not. Either way, it’s going to be unbearably painful. Your memories are like a bone that was broken and healed itself in the wrong position. It’s been bothering you for years, giving you little pains here and there. Preventing you from using your body to its fullest capabilities. Now, if you want the bone to heal, you have to break it again first. Only, this time it’s not going to be somebody else doing it to you. You are going to take the conscious decision of going through hell so that you might get out of it on the other side. Do you understand me?”

Neil isn’t entirely sure. All he wants is to watch his father getting shot and see his young self survive. What is Andrew even talking about? Sure, reliving that day in the cellar was rough, but what could possibly break him like Andrew is describing?

“I— I think I can do it.”

Andrew stares at him for a long time, then looks down at the stick in his hand.

“You said you remember all of it, but you also feel like you don’t remember any of it. That’s because trauma messes up your brain. Traumatic memories don’t get neatly stored like normal ones. Picture your brain as a giant wardrobe. You have different shelves and drawers, and each memory is a piece of clothing. On the shelf of your first year of college, there’s us winning championships, a neatly folded t-shirt placed on top of that one time Renee took you shopping and you watching horror movies with Boyd. But then there are traumatic memories. They’re not neatly folded in their shelves; they’re jumbled up, stuffed in every drawer, pushed in every corner without order. So you remember them, you have the event stored in your brain, but you don’t really. You can’t retrieve a memory because everything is a mess in there. So much so that, sometimes, the wardrobe can’t even stay closed. Clothes erupt from it, and you can’t do anything about it. Trauma narrative is opening the wardrobe and taking out all these messed-up clothes. Looking carefully at each one, folding them neatly, and putting them back on their shelves. If you do this patiently with each and every one of these memories, flashbacks and nightmares will decrease, and... you will change.”

“I will change?”

“Yes. Your sense of identity is built on top of your memories. Even the ones you don’t remember, or the ones you can’t make sense of. If your perspective on your memories changes, so do you.”

Neil’s mind flashes back to that fateful year when Andrew had gone through all that pain. Then he thinks about Andrew now, and Andrew when Neil first met him. “You have changed,” he notes.

“I have.” Andrew doesn’t smile. He tilts his head and asks calmly, “Are you scared of changing, like I did?”

Changing... how? What’s there to change? Neil can’t fathom being any different from who he is. Who he’s always been.

“Do you... want me to change?” Neil asks, somewhat fearful.

“I want you to stop thinking of yourself as worthless.”

Neil is taken aback by this quick response. “But… I don’t think I’m worthless.”

“No? Tell me about your worth, then.”

Neil doesn’t like Andrew’s challenging tone. “You know... I’m a... a great exy player.”

“You’re not an exy player, Neil,” Andrew replies gently.

Neil glances down at his missing leg. Somehow, he still forgets from time to time. He purses his lips and doesn’t know what to add. Is there... anything else to Neil Josten besides exy? Or...

If Neil is stripped of the only thing he can do, is Nathaniel the only thing left?

Neil shuts his eyes and swallows hard. Andrew is right. He is worthless.

A cold sensation on his hand makes him shudder. Neil opens his eyes and finds the USB stick in his palm. Andrew’s hand covers it and presses it there.

“We are going to proceed very slowly. When I say we stop, we stop, and I will be here the whole time. Always.”

At this point, Andrew releases Neil’s hand and gestures toward the flashing laptop.

Neil slowly inserts the stick back in. The folder appears again: “N. A. Wesniski.” Then the long list of videos.

Neil swallows and waits for Andrew to give instructions.

“You decide when this starts,” Andrew explains. His voice is deep and soothing. They sit close, shoulder to shoulder, with the laptop propped on Neil’s legs.

As soon as Neil clicks on the first rectangle, Andrew presses the space bar, pausing the video.

Neil remains still, awaiting instructions.

Andrew takes Neil’s hand and gently places the tips of his fingers on the space bar. “You can pause with this. You need to pause every time you feel overwhelmed or just confused. You were stripped of control in Baltimore, but you have control now. You decide when this starts.”

Andrew repeats it. It seems very important to him, that last bit. “You decide when this starts.” Neil wonders if those are the same words Bee used to use.

Neil doesn’t know if he’s ready. He feels more lucid now; he knows logically that nothing can hurt him, and yet... pressing that space bar is a strenuous task.

The static of the recording fades, and the face of a man appears.

In a panic, Neil immediately stops the video. His heartbeat spikes all at once. Only now does Neil realize he doesn’t want Andrew to see his father.

He feels nothing but shame looking at Nathan. Neil instinctively reaches for his cheek, pressing his fingers into his old burns, feeling the ruined skin.

“Talk to me, Neil. Don’t shut down. What’s going on?”

Neil shakes his head. This whole idea is stupid. He should just shut the laptop and throw the stick down the drain.

Andrew waits a bit longer for Neil to speak, but the man just can’t. In the end, it’s Andrew who speaks first again. “I don’t know if what I’m doing is right, Neil. I might be making things worse. But if you trust me, we can keep trying a little bit longer.”

Neil gives a tight nod, still feeling incapable of opening his mouth.

“Okay. You can answer some questions with just your head. Are you having a panic attack?”

Neil doesn’t know what this is, but it doesn’t feel as severe as a proper panic attack. He shakes his head.

“Okay. But you paused the video, meaning you don’t feel ready to continue.”

Neil nods.

“Okay. I need you to start verbalizing now. Do you feel ready to do that?”

Neil feels slightly annoyed at how Andrew is babying him, but then he thinks of how many times Andrew has struggled with losing the ability to speak, and his temper softens.

He nods. “I’m okay now.”

There’s a little pulsing vein of annoyance on Andrew’s forehead that a real therapist would probably know how to hide. “Okay. Then tell me what emotions went through you when the video started.”

Neil really tries not to roll his eyes. He really tries. And he fails.

Not emotions talk, for the love of God.

“Do you think it’s stupid to give a name to your emotions?” Andrew asks. “You know, I got the same exact expression from Ray when I tried this with him. Only thing is, he is a troubled eight-year-old; you are a fucking adult. Behave like one. Now name your fucking emotions.”

This time, Neil rolls his eyes freely. But still, he complies. “I felt… Bad. I don’t know. Embarrassed.”

Andrew makes a face that Neil doesn’t expect. He looks confused.

“Embarrassed?”

Neil glances back at the screen. Nathan isn’t completely in view yet, but his features are already visible.

“You’ve never seen him. I don’t want you to think of him when you look at me, like my mom used to do.”

Andrew blinks several times. He looks down at the screen with a focused expression.

“He—” Andrew glances at Neil again. “Dude, he looks nothing like you.”

“What are you talking about? I’m his carbon copy!”

Andrew points at the silhouette on the screen. “He’s at least 6 feet tall.”

Neil crosses his arms, rolling his eyes again. “Well, okay, I got the height from my mother. But the face is the same.”

“Nah. His hair is copper red. Yours is auburn. His eyes are more distant; he looks like a fucking manatee.”

Neil bursts out laughing. “What are you doing? I thought this was supposed to be serious.”

Andrew cracks a tiny smile. “This is serious. These assholes are just a bunch of buffoons. You gotta realize they are real people. Have you ever imagined your father taking a shit? He used to do that, you know? Bet you can’t picture it.”

“Oh my God,” Neil laughs. “Is this what you were doing with Bee, all those hours?”

“Sometimes.” Andrew shrugs. “Did you know Drake had celiac disease? It blew my fucking mind when I find out. That pathetic loser would shit his pants if he ate bread.”

Neil laughs again, and somehow, he feels lighter.

Andrew’s easy demeanor slowly fades away. “You could tell me and Aaron apart from day one. You can read faces really well, so don’t let your mother’s voice talk over yours in your head. You know all the reasons why you don’t look like your father, and it’s not just the scars. Your eyes are kind.”

Neil feels his cheeks warm. He wonders if this moment is going to get neatly folded into the wardrobe of his mind. If he’ll be able to retrieve this memory when he’s old and bitter. “Your eyes are kind.”

Neil puts his hand over the space bar again. “I’m ready to continue.”

Chapter Text

Neil presses on the space bar and the video starts again.

Andrew doesn’t flinch. The stillness of his body is a controlled effort. This is a bad idea. He cannot stop thinking about how bad of an idea this is.

When he had barged into the room earlier, he hadn’t managed to see anything on the screen, just horrifying sounds that will haunt him for weeks.

Now the nightmare is vividly moving in front of him.

Nathan Wesniski looks like a barefoot devil. His eyes glance at the camera only once, and Andrew can tell from that quick look alone the depth of his insanity.

The monster finally moves from the shot and Andrew sees Neil.

Not thirty-something, sort of adjusted, Neil Josten on his side; but the youngest version of Neil there was.

Scarcely a man.

Andrew stares at his cheeks still a bit round from childhood and cannot look away from the ugly burns and the cruel cuts.

Young Neil is sitting on a chair, his arms and hands are bloodied, his eyes alert like that of a dog in front of the whip of his master.

The boy sees his personal monster coming closer and does what every child knows to do when there is no way out.

He looks away.

“On your feet.”

Even if deeper and steadier, that… sounds like Neil’s voice.

Andrew would gladly throttle his own brain for offering that thought. A quick glance to his side reveals a highly focused Neil. His hand is still safely hovering over the space bar, in case he needs to pause this madness. And yet for now the video keeps playing.

“You know better than to sit in my presence.”

Andrew looks back at the screen. Young Neil moves without a second thought. He gets up.

Andrew is quick to hide the look of surprise that escaped him. Neil… obeying. It’s unsettling, and utterly wrong.

The first sparks of anger start burning in Andrew’s chest. He knows there’s worst to come, but just that tiny detail is enough to…

The monster puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Almost a paternal gesture, if it isn’t for the way young Neil shivers and braces himself.

He had known the blow was coming, and still… he stood completely still.

The boy is hit on the freshest wound on his face, but before he can fall to the ground a hand grubs him by the neck.

Young Neil barely moves. A hand almost reaches forward but stops right away.

Andrew claws the sheets on the bed until his fingers start to hurt. Andrew knows, deep down, that in front of a threat Neil is a fighter first and a runner second. But he had never stood still hoping that the nightmare would disappear on its own, and that was not what young Neil had been trying to do all those years ago.

The stillness in the boy is a trained response. He had been taught to stand still and take it. He was expected to.

Andrew cannot stop the trail of his thoughts. He cannot stop thinking about Neil being so good a keeping his hands to himself. Never touching. Never expecting to be allowed.

The anger in his chest starts turning into something sour and ugly.

Don’t think about that.

Andrew cannot afford to spiral. Not when the sole purpose of his presence there is to prevent Neil from spiraling himself.

But things turn much uglier real fast.

Andrew tries his best to not lock himself away in apathy and stay focused. But it’s hard.

Seeing Neil panicking and trying to run in his sorry state is painful. Seeing him getting inevitably caught and kicked so hard the recording picks up on his bones cracking…

Neil never offered the smallest bit of detail about what had happened to him in Baltimore.

Andrew remembers the first time he saw him after losing him. A pathetic mess of bandages, scars and bruises. Andrew had imagined then how each cut had been inflicted, tried to picture it in front of his eyes, but actually seeing it…

Seeing the monster put the blade to the boy’s throat and hearing him describe how he was going to skin his own son for days…

Andrew loses sensibility to the tips of his fingers. He feels lightheaded and he knows his mind is trying to push him to disassociate and run from this nightmare. Old habits die hard, but Andrew has to stay lucid. The Neil next to him is still blinking and breathing. Still alive and present.

Andrew has to be the rock this time.

“Please. Please don’t.” The boy in the video begs and the sparks of anger in Andrew’s chest grow into an inferno.

How dared they? How dared they touch him? How dared they die before I could get to them? 

Despite all his effort, Andrew is spiraling.

He remembers. Against all good judgment, he can’t stop remembering that boy that had given him so much life.

Thank you. You were amazing.

He had known. Back then, Neil had known what was going to happen to him, and that was what he had chosen to say.

The boy’s voice grows shriller. The door bangs open and muffled sounds of gunfire echo through the video.

The woman is the first one to drop.

Too fast. Too painless.

Nathan Wesniski goes down second.

At Andrew’s side, Neil lets go of a long breath. His fingers finally hit the pause button. “It really went down how I remembered it,” he says, disbelieving.

Andrew takes more than a few seconds to find his composure again. It’s mostly an act, but at least he can utter a few unhelpful words: “Why do you say that?”

Neil shrugs. His eyes are a bit unfocused, but overall, he looks mostly stable. More stable than Andrew for sure.

“I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like I hallucinated his death. How could he… how could he die just like that?”

Andrew has trouble answering, even though he understands exactly what Neil is talking about. A strong swing with an exy racquet comes to mind.

Thud.

And just like that the monster flops to the ground.

Andrew feels completely useless. He can’t verbalize what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling.

He takes Neil’s hand and squeezes it.

Neil finally takes his eyes off the screen to look at his side. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to see that. This was probably a mistake.”

Andrew squeezes his hand again. He opens his mouth and pushes his words out. “I wanted to see that.” This is not enough of an explanation, but Andrew cannot do any better right now.

Neil smirks. “You liked the part where Nathan got gutted too? It’ss very enjoyable, right?” And with that, Neil turned back to the laptop. His clumsy fingers tried to rewind through the touchpad, but of course Neil sends the pointer in the opposite direction.

The screen goes dark, and a loading symbol appears at the center.

“What did I do?” He asks rising his hands as if under arrest.

“You skipped to the next…” Andrew doesn’t have to time to explain. The screen shows the answer by lighting again.

This time, the first shot is that of a house garden.

Neil goes still. The rigidity of his muscles his unnatural. But before Andrew can ask if he recognizes the place, someone appears in frame.

All the fury trapped in Andrew’s chest is pushed to the side for half a second. That…

That is the tiniest Neil Andrew has ever seen. It’s completely normal to think that babies and toddlers are cute. It is a natural reaction that ensures the perpetuation of the species. There’s nothing else to it.

But…

Baby Neil is unreasonably cute.

Andrew judges the child to be around five. Though with him being height challenged he could have been six already.

His entire head has the exact same shape of a watermelon. There’s very little skin that isn’t covered in freckles, and his auburn hair is a lot fairer than his natural adult color.

“His eyes are one third of his entire face.” Andrew says that one out loud. That hadn’t been intentional.

Neil doesn’t seem to hear him though, and he doesn’t seem at all interested in how cute his tiny self is.

It’s not long before a woman appears in the shot. It’s a young version of Lola, and at her heels is walking a mixed dog, with flappy ears and a long, fat muzzle.

Neil stops the video. He looks away from the screen and doesn’t seem capable of taking another breath.

“What’s wrong?” Andrew tries to use a neutral, steady voice.

“It’s…” Neil shakes his head. He can’t say it.

That’s his whole issue, right? Neil can’t bring himself to remember and talk about his past, so he keeps pushing all his baggage into the darkest corner of his mind, as if it could never bother him again that way.

“Do you remember this?”

Neil shakes his head again, still refusing to look at the screen. Then has a change of heart and nods. “I-I’m not sure. Sort of.”

“Try to tell me what you remember.” Andrew feels like a kid trying to put on his father’s shoes. Imitating what Bee says during sessions is not going to turn him into a real therapist. Andrew should just stop this. He should…

“I was given that dog for a few weeks. I didn’t understand why, no one ever gave me anything, let alone a gift. And then they brought us out into the back garden and… a-a-actually, I don’t know, I don’t…”

Neil’s hand presses on his forearm, above the cuts hidden by the armband. His eyes start to unfocus.

These are the signs Andrew has been waiting for to know it is time to stop it.

“Alright. I think we did enough for now. Let’s…”

“No, wait.” Neil grabs the laptop before Andrew can take it away, and he rushes to press the space bar. His unfocused eyes zero into the screen.

The video starts again. Lola reaches the little boy, with the dog obediently following.

The kid is standing without moving a muscle. When the dog wags his tail and pushes his head under the boy’s hand, little Neil pretends not to notice its existence. His eyes are fixed on the woman, who seems to approve of his behavior so far.

“Your father has a gift for you.” The audio quality is atrocious, but Andrew manages to pick up on those few words.

Lola hands the boy a cylinder of fabric, and the kid lowers it to the ground to unroll it.

“Pick one,” Lola says.

The boy stares at the row of knives. Glances at the dog.

The man in the present looks away, and when Andrew reaches out to stop the video, Neil grabs his wrist.

“I didn’t do it,” whispers Neil.

Lola turns her back on the scene and leaves the frame. Boy and dog are left alone. The kid slouches on the ground and the dog lays next to him, placing its big head on his leg.

There’s a cut in the video. Boy and dog are in the same position, but the sun behind the tall brick wall of the garden is going down.

The sound of a door opening shakes the child, who immediately jumps on his feet.

Nathan seems unbothered. A normal father coming out to collect his little boy.

“Pick.”

The kid glances at the knives again. When he doesn’t give any reply, the man comes down on one knee.

“Today you can make me proud, or you can make me angry. It’s up to you, Junior.”

The boy shivers. Those intense blue eyes double in size as he kneels and picks a slim blade.

Nathan smiles as the boy approaches the dog, one hand on the knife, one hand on the back of the dog’s head.

“Find the spot,” the father orders.

The boy’s fingers start searching through the fur, and when he looks unsure, the man starts guiding his hand.

“Feel the jawbone. Here. Now down. Do you feel it?”

The boy nods and the man’s hand disappear.

“Now, Junior. Pierce it through and through, and then slice outwards.”

The boy rises his knife.

“I didn’t do it,” repeats Neil with alarm, as if he could stop the kid trapped in the screen.

Nathan waits for his son to take two long breathes. Then three more long breathes. Then the dog turns to lick the boy.

The fingers clenched around the knife’s handle give out.

The knife falls on the grass.

Slowly, the boy tries to hunch over himself, but Nathan doesn’t let him touch the ground. The monster grabs the child by the hair and pulls back with violence.

The boy falls face forward without a sound, and immediately curls into a ball.

Nathan grabs the fallen knife and with a precise hit, slashes the dog’s belly.

The sound of agony that comes out of the dog’s throat feels like a human scream.

The dog trashes around, falls. Trembling and whimpering, it tries to get away, but pain must be too overwhelming.

“You’re staying here,” Nathan says to the ball of a child curled on the ground. “For however many hours it takes for this thing to die. Then you’ll clean up.”

The boy rises his head. His cheeks are striped with tears. The dog is howling in agony.

As soon as Nathan takes a step towards the door, the child leaps to his feet to reach the bloodied knife on the ground. He runs for the dog’s throat.

Nathan is fast. He claws the boy by the hair again and pulls him. “You had your chance.” For the man, snatching the knife from the boy’s hands is ridiculously easy. Whacking his face with the hard handle seems to be a deep pleasure. 

This time, as the boy goes down, a sob escapes him.

Nathan, finally satisfied, walks away with the murder weapon, and the abandoned clean knives. A door bangs, out of frame.

Nathaniel pushes himself up, gives just one look at the screaming dog, and then he turns resolutely away. He puts his hands over his ears, he shuts his eyes, and, finally, he cries.

“Fuck,” that’s all Andrew can manage.

Neil is quiet. His eyes glued to the screen. His hand is still wrapped around Andrew’s wrist.

When the loading symbol of the next video appears, Andrew tries to free himself to get to the space bar.

“Neil. That’s enough. That’s more than enough for one night. We have to…”

Neil stops Andrew’s other hand from pausing.

What the fuck does he think he’s doing?

The same scene appears, only slightly different. The child is taller, the dog a different breed, and Lola is nowhere to be seen.

It’s Nathan who brings the knives this time.

“Neil. I said it’s enough!”

“No, wait!”

Andrew falls for it. He looks back at the screen and sees the boy picking a blade without hesitation.

Turning towards the dog. Feeling his jawbone until he finds the right spot. Then placing the tip of the knife to the tender throat.

“Remember. You can make it fast, or I can make it slow. You choose.”

The boy nods, then stops himself. “Yes, sir.”

Andrew shivers, it’s impossible not to feel Jiro’s voice in those two words.

“Neil…”

The blade goes through and slashes outwards. A river of blood floods out of the dog’s throat, who drops to the ground with just a bubbling wail.

Nathan steps around the carcass, observing the cut. “A good job.”

The boy wears no expression. Nothing of the disgust of what he has just done, nothing of the pride any kid might feel at being praised by their father.

“Now clean it up fast.”

“Yes, sir.”

The monster leaves again, but the child doesn’t move. He doesn’t look back at his victim, nor he lets go of the knife.

It takes a little while for the door to open again.

“Mom.”

Andrew winces at that word being uttered by the man next to him, instead of the boy from the past.

The woman coming into frame is slim and short. She doesn’t show her face to the camera.

“You did this?” She asks with obvious disgust in her voice.

Andrew turns to look at Neil. His shoulders are shaking. His eyes, still unfocused, are almost lucid… lucid with tears.

An open-handed slap dealt with such rage must have hurt. But the boy barely moves after impact. He casts his eyes downwards.

“I should leave you to him. You’ll make a fine Butcher.”

“Mom!” Neil sobs pushing his hands over his face. While the boy in the past stays silent and unmoving, twenty years later he’s crying his heart out, bending over his stomach as if the pain was too intense to bear.

That’s it. I’ve had it.

Andrew grabs the laptop and presses the turn off button until the screen turns black, and the sound is cut off.

“I told you this was too much for…” That well deserved I told you so dies in Andrew’s mouth.

Neil is crying. He’s really crying. Not just sobbing or whimpering, he’s crying so hard he starts coughing, and coughing, and…

He grabs the bedside table and bends over to retch over the edge.

Fuck.

Oh fuck.

Andrew doesn’t feel his legs as he runs to reach the other side of the bed. Neil has just puked his entire dinner, his face is covered in tears and snot, and his eyes look so confused it seems like he just got a concussion.

“I-” He tries to take a whimpering breath, but immediately starts crying again.

FUCK.

This has never happened to Andrew during therapy. Sure, he could have been incapable of getting out of bed for days after a particularly bad session, but he’s never lost it like this.

Maybe recovery looks different for everyone. Or maybe Andrew fucked up so hard, pretending to be a therapist, that now Neil’s frail psyche is permanently damaged.

“Try to focus on me, Neil. Try to-”

Neil bends over the edge again, and pukes bile over the already nasty floor.

“I’m sorry!” He cries out. “I’m so-o-orry, I’ll clean it u-p!” His voice comes and goes with each sob.

“You don’t have to clean anything! Just try to breathe.” Andrew takes him by the shoulders, and Neil’s head recoils like a turtle in its shell. “It’s me. It’s just me, Neil. You’re here. You’re safe. Breathe with me. One. Two. Three.”

Neil is not even trying to follow him. He just seems to want to get away from his touch.

Andrew can’t bear that. He lets go and Neil turns the other way, and flops in the bed, hunching over his puked shirt, crying and screaming like the gutted dog from the video.

Andrew has never seen Neil like this. Panic threatens to seize him too.

“Mom…” Neil whimpers. “I’m sorry!”

Andrew runs around the bed again and climbs on the other side. Neil is closed in a ball, much like his five-year-old version had been.

“Neil, listen to my voice. I’m Andrew. This is our room. You are almost thirty. Your mom is not here. Your father is dead. They can’t do anything to you anymore. You don’t owe them anything. They’re gone. I’m your… I’m your family now.” The word taste bitter on Andrew’s mouth. He never liked it. Never found anything other than lies hiding beneath, but he knows it still means something to Neil. “I’m your family. Me, and Nicky, and Aaron, and… the kids too, if you want. Matt. I can endure Matt too. Kevin. If he cares to show his face. And Wymack, and Abby, and Bee. These are the people you have to think of now. We are the ones that matter in the present. Are you listening to me, Neil?”

His cries slowly subside, but Neil is still hiding his face in the sheets.

“Can I- Can I touch you?”

Neil makes a sound with no meaning.

Andrew doesn’t know how to interpret it. He tries to slowly lower his hand to Neil’s hair, but as soon as he makes contact Neil lets go of another sob. One follows another, and in a matter of seconds, Neil is crying again.

Andrew removes his hand fast. He should have waited for a proper yes. Why didn’t he wait?

“Neil…”

“I didn’t want it to suffer like the other one!” Neil screamed into the mattress. “It took all night to die, and I couldn’t do anything!”

“I know, I know. You were given a terrible choice, Neil. But you still tried to do the right thing.” Andrew fumbles around his words. He doesn’t even know how to process what he just saw as an adult man, he cannot even begin to comprehend what it means to be forced into that situation as a child, and proceeding to suppress everything for the next twenty years.

And they just saw a couple videos of what looked like an infinite list. Andrew can’t help but shudder at that thought.

How deep did it all go? How much had Neil skipped over in his rushed recounting of his childhood?

Maybe… maybe, if it was really as bad is it appeared, stuffing it all in a box and never touching any of it might have been the right choice.

But then here Andrew had come, to take the lid off, thinking he was so wise and knowledgeable.

“Neil, I’m so sorry.”

With another whimpering sob, Neil uncurls until his eyes can look up at Andrew.

“I don’t want to be a Butcher.”

“Stop saying nonsense. You’re not. You’re never going to be.”

Neil shuts his eyes as if he has just been stabbed. His hand flutters up, above his face, and slowly finds his jawbone. Then it trails downwards, where the throat is tender.

“He was training me to do it to people. I could. I know how to. I’ve-” He swallows and his eyes unfocused again. “I’ve done it to corpses. Freshly killed, so that the blood would-”

“Shut the fuck up! Stop thinking about it! Stop-”

“You said I need to remember this shit!”

“Not all at once! Not like this! For fuck’s sake, Neil! You still have puke on your shirt!”

Neil lifts himself up as much as it’s needed to look at his shirt. He seems genuinely confused by the vomit he finds there.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Stop.” Andrew doesn’t physically block him, but it’s a near thing. “Just stay there. I’ll take care of it. Just do a breathing exercise.”

The time it takes Andrew to rush to the bathroom and grub a rug and bucket is enough for Neil to drop back with his face to the mattress and start wailing.

“Mom...”

Andrew wishes Mary Hartford was still alive, so that he could rise his kill count of undeserving mothers.

Once the floor is clean, Andrew reaches his whimpering other half. “I’ll just dab the stain for now. You shouldn’t remove your shirt right now.”

Being faced with his scars would be less than ideal at the moment.

Neil tries to cooperate, but he doesn’t seem to care much about the vomit anymore, he’s more focused on his stupid mother.

“She knew I was like him,” he sniffed. “She could never beat it out of me, and she hated me for it.”

Andrew keeps his eyes focused on his task. “She doesn’t deserve you crying over her. She was a shitty excuse for a mother.”

After scrubbing most of the stain away, Andrew makes the mistake of looking up at Neil’s face. His eyes full of tears are hard to bear.

“She was not,” Neil stutters. “How can you judge her? Can you even imagine being in her position?”

“Yes. I would have killed Nathan before he even thought about laying a finger on my child. I would have dropped dead from self-combustion before I blamed my son for the horrible shit I allowed to happened to him.”

Neil shakes his head, broken and defeated. Desperation seems to drain out of him, and all that’s left is just grey apathy.

“You don’t understand. Leave me alone.”

It’s like a punch to the stomach. Andrew is careful not to show how much that hurt.

Neil turns around with all the agility of a larva. He looks like one thing with the bed.

Andrew recognizes that sight. Neil is not going to get up in the morning. He is probably not going to get up for the next few days.

Guilt comes back to bite him. After all, watching those videos had been his idea.

“You’re right. I don’t understand. But I’m still going to be here. Unless you explicitly ask me to leave.”

Andrew waits with his heart throbbing in his throat. He waits, and waits, but Neil doesn’t turn around. And after a few minutes, his breathing deepens and soft sobs break out of him in the dawn of his sleep.

Andrew makes minuscule movements to reach his phone. He hesitates before pressing on the number.

Aaron has never stuck to a promise before, but right now Andrew really needs to believe that things are different between them after their heart to heart at his house.

The phone rings eight times before a sleeping voice picks up.

“Andrew? Are you ok?”

“I need a favor.”

“It’s one in the morning.”

Is it? Andrew had not even realized it was so late.

“You have to come here. I need someone to watch the kids tomorrow.”

“What? Why?”

Andrew glances at the exhausted figure lying next to him. “Remember when I came to your house? I told you I felt like Neil was nearing a breaking point. And you said you were going to be ready to help when that happened? Well. It happened. I need someone to take care of the kids, because Neil is going to be useless for a while, and I need to be with him.”

Aaron suddenly sounds more alert. “What happened? What’s wrong with Neil?”

For a moment Andrew wonders if that was genuine concern in his brother’s voice, but it’s hard to believe it was for Neil’s sake. Maybe Aaron is simply aware of how tightly Andrew’s sanity is tied to that of that little nutjob.

“He started to remember stuff from his past that makes mine look like a cakewalk. His untreated PTSD is really shining at the moment.” Andrew takes a long breath. “Aaron. I need you to be here tomorrow morning.” He is very close to saying please. He is that desperate.

Andrew doesn’t have anyone else he trusts with those children. He would trust Nicky, and the man would even be willing to come all the way over here, but it would take him way too long to do the trip.

“Ok.” Aaron sighs. “I’ll call in sick at work. I’ll be there.”

Andrew feels a tangible weight being lifted from his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how little he actually believed Aaron would stick to his word.

“Thank you.” Andrew lets go of another breath. This one feels lighter. “Thank you, Aaron.

Chapter Text

At exactly six in the morning, Aaron arrives at that remote stadium. This time, no one is waiting for him at the entrance except for a sleepy-looking guard who yawns from the other side of the glass.

The man glances at Aaron for barely half a second before unlocking the doors with a large set of keys.

Who knows if he recognized him from his last visit, or if he simply mistook him for Andrew.

Aaron walks up the long incline to the coaches’ and kids’ quarters. It seems like it’s still too early; no one is lingering in the cafeteria, and the reinforced door leading to the private hallway is still closed.

At this point, Aaron pulls out his phone and calls his brother.

"I'm here. In front of the locked door."

Instead of getting out of bed to open the door for him, Andrew simply recites the code.

Another layer of worry adds itself to the ones that had already piled up after last night’s call.

Andrew has never been a big fan of sharing secrets. The fact that he would rather reveal the access code to his own and the kids’ quarters than leave Neil alone for even a second says a lot about the gravity of the situation.

As soon as Aaron crosses the threshold of the room, his concern solidifies even further.

Neil is lying on the bed with his eyes closed. The sound of the door hasn’t stirred him in the slightest. He is covered in sweat, and there are traces and stains of vomit between his shirt and the bed sheets.

Andrew is standing in the small kitchen. Just standing there. His hollow, red-rimmed eyes are fixed on the body lying in the bed.

"You look like shit," Aaron tells him.

Andrew doesn’t respond. He just keeps staring at Neil.

"Did you get at least an hour of sleep?"

Andrew turns and seems to struggle to focus on Aaron. But before he can answer, a light knock on the door interrupts him.

Aaron is closer. He takes a single step to the handle and opens it, revealing one of the kids he had visited a while ago.

Cedric…

Cedric Hart.

The boy lifts two big, wet eyes toward Aaron and, without a moment’s hesitation, clings to his hand.

Aaron stays still. He remembers how long it had taken to get the child to tolerate being touched during his visit. Maybe in the short time since then, Cedric had relaxed a little. Or maybe…

Andrew shifts his weight from one foot to the other, but that slight movement is enough for the child to lift his head and investigate the sound.

Cedric flinches at the sight of Andrew in the kitchen. He quickly pulls his hand away from Aaron’s grip and scurries toward the real Andrew like a startled ferret.

The two don’t exchange a single word. Andrew takes his hand; Cedric rests his forehead against his side and allows himself to be touched as Andrew absentmindedly runs a hand through his hair.

Andrew waits a few seconds before crouching down to inspect the child. His gaze lingers on the damp pants.

Aaron sees indecision flash across his otherwise expressionless face. Andrew looks from Neil to Cedric to Aaron.

"I’ll stay with Neil," Aaron resolves his dilemma.

Technically, Aaron is there to babysit the kids, leaving Andrew free to take care of Neil, but in this case, the opposite makes more sense.

Andrew knows it too, though it’s clear that turning his back on Neil isn’t easy for him.

When the door closes, Aaron gets to work trying to conjure up some coffee with the few utensils in the kitchen.

Neil flinches in his sleep at every little clatter, until finally, he opens his eyes.

"Hey."

Neil doesn’t seem to hear him. He turns his face into the pillow and—

Sharp, strangled sounds begin to fill the room all at once.

Aaron freezes, his mouth slightly open. Neil is… crying?

Oh, fuck.

When Andrew said Neil had reached his breaking point, he had meant—

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

This would ruin everything. Everything Andrew had worked for. All the tentative progress he and Aaron had made over the past few months. It would all go to hell because those two are bound together like oil and a lit match.

The door swings open forcefully before Aaron can even think about intervening.

Andrew assess the situation and quickly turns toward a now-changed and cleaned-up Cedric. "Go back to your room."

Cedric's eyes widen, as if he had never heard that sharp tone from Andrew before.

Andrew realizes his mistake instantly. The boy hesitates for just a second before scurrying away.

Andrew grits his teeth. He takes a step to follow him, but then stops. He turns back toward Neil, still broken in his bed.

Aaron has never seen him hesitate like this. He has never seen him uncertain about his priorities.

Aaron knows he probably can’t make a difference, but he tries anyway. “I can take care of Neil, if you want.”

Andrew definitively steps back into the room and slams the door behind him. “He hates you,” he states bluntly.

Then he moves toward the bed.

There is no gentleness in the way Andrew grabs Neil by the shoulder and forces him to turn over.

“You are going to sit up and have breakfast. Then you’ll take a shower, and then you’ll do the exercises your physical therapist gave you. And tomorrow, you’ll do the same thing. And the day after that. Am I clear?”

Neil’s breathing is fast and shaky. He can only whisper a feeble, “Leave me alone.”

“No,” Andrew replies.

What follows is the kind of storm Aaron has learned to stay out of. Andrew strides across the room, radiating a murderous energy.

He pulls an empty duffel bag from the closet and tosses it onto the table. Then he starts ransacking the kitchen. He grabs knives and forks and throws them into the bag, leaving only the spoons untouched. Then he disappears into the bathroom and returns with his arms full of bottles and pills. Everything goes into the bag. Lighters, belts…

When Andrew starts removing shoelaces, Aaron musters up the courage to ask a simple question: “Soo… are we on suicide watch?”

“I don’t know!” Andrew’s anger finally finds a target, and Aaron sees him struggle to hold himself back.

His shoulders gradually lower. The tension drains from him with a conscious effort.

“You need to wake the kids and take them to breakfast now.”

Aaron wants to argue. Leaving Andrew alone in this situation seems like the worst possible decision.

“It’ll only take an hour,” Andrew reassures him, reading his hesitation. “Then they’ll be in class.”

Aaron casts another glance at the lifeless figure in the bed. God. He’s never been able to stand him.

“Fine.”

…

Cedric isn’t the only one to notice that Andrew has been replaced by a clone. Once they get out of bed, someone narrows their eyes suspiciously, but most of them seem too sleepy to notice.

What surprises Aaron the most is how unconcerned the kids are when they touch Andrew. It’s not just accidental brushes. The kids seem used to hugging Andrew, holding his hand. Or climbing all over him in play, in the case of Kevin’s son.

The youngest girl of the group clings to Aaron’s leg and doesn’t seem to have any intention of letting go to go brush her teeth.

So, after all this time, has Andrew gotten over that little issue of his that made him lash out at anyone who touched him without warning?

No. Aaron remembers being slammed against a wall not too long ago for hugging Andrew unexpectedly.

It’s not a matter of time. Maybe it’s a matter of who.

Who he considers a possible threat?

Aaron shuts that thought down before it can lead him somewhere dangerous.

At the breakfast table, the mood is cheerful. Apparently, their team won their first game, and the excitement of victory hasn’t worn off yet.

But Cedric seems immune to the general cheer. After seeing how pronounced his ribs are, Aaron can’t stand watching him stare at his yogurt without touching it.

That kid looks deeply troubled.

Aaron can’t just let him brood for the rest of the day. He silently gets up from his seat and slips out of the cafeteria without drawing attention.

He enters the coaches’ quarters to find Andrew sitting cross-legged in front of Neil, a bowl of cereal in his lap.

Neither of them seems to notice Aaron, which is concerning in itself.

Andrew is so tense that his hand gripping the spoon looks white.

“You need to go talk to Cedric.”

Andrew turns his head but keeps his eyes locked on Neil.

“Cedric isn’t eating.”

That finally gets his attention. Andrew stares at his brother in surprise. The spoon falls onto the bed, and Andrew scrambles down so fast that he spills the bowl across the sheets.

Aaron barely has time to step aside before Andrew barrels past him like a tank.

Evidently, Cedric not eating is unusual enough to be alarming.

Finally alone with Neil, Aaron takes a moment to observe this pathetic scene.

Neil doesn’t seem to care about the milk-soaked blankets or the vomit-stained shirt he’s still wearing. Now that Andrew isn’t forcing him to sit up, Neil curls back into his previous fetal position.

Aaron hates him.

He knows he promised Andrew he’d try to build some kind of relationship with him, but the disgust is hard to swallow right now.

And yet, Aaron has to try. Because this is really the last chance. Andrew is giving him an opportunity to truly be part of his life, and this time, Aaron isn’t going to screw it up.

So, Aaron rolls up his sleeves and picks up the bowl. He pulls off the blankets and dumps the cereal. Neil barely grunts when Aaron yanks the sheets out from under him.

“Now get in this fucking wheelchair. You’re taking a shower and changing that disgusting shirt.”

Aaron doesn’t expect a response, and he doesn’t get one. It doesn’t matter.

Aaron brings the chair next to the bed and locks the brake. Then he grabs Neil like a rag doll and drags him onto the seat.

That finally brings him slightly back to the present. Neil tenses his muscles to keep from sliding off and clenches his teeth around a sharp gasp of pain.

Aaron watches him.

A reaction like that from Josten should at the very least involve a stab wound to the gut.

But at first glance, nothing seems to explain the pain.

Neil doubles over with a curse.

“Where?” Aaron asks. “Where does it hurt?”

Neil hisses through his teeth, “Knee.”

Aaron crouches to check the only knee left on that battered body. After finding nothing unusual, he instinctively looks toward the other leg. He removes the protective sock that cushions the friction between the stump and the prosthetic and examines the bare skin.

The amputation had completely healed, there was nothing abnormal to the touch, nothing that should be causing pain.

“Phantom pain? I already told Andrew you need antidepressants for that.”