it's a sudden rain storm that does him in. his streak of days when the pain was almost forgettable ends all too quick with a flare-up.
"you're shaking," andrew notes dully.
kevin clenches his fists, as if he could hide his body's tremors. as if he could hide anything from andrew.
andrew tosses the car keys to neil, who walks backwards out into the rain, hood up but eyes set on his striker. kevin answers the unsaid question with a nod and gritted teeth, watches as neil turns around to jog the rest of the way to the car.
he drives it back to them, and kevin takes a step forward when sharp, white-hot pain shoots up from his knee. it comes without warning, so sudden, so sharp, kevin gasps as his leg gives out. his reflexes catch him, but under the flood of pain and adrenaline, he almost misses the hand andrew holds out.
"i can make it fine," kevin argues, but he can't take another step. his knees are weak, his bones are rattling, and the cold rain is starting to soak into their clothes. still, andrew hasn’t taken his hand back.
against the raging war within his mind and body (you're better than this, he hears. you're better than this), it’s this unwavering gesture that is kevin’s undoing. it’s the memories of andrew past and present, who didn’t turn away. kevin is shaking, unravelling, and the migraine he hasn’t been letting himself acknowledge is catching up to him.
when kevin finally takes the outstretched hand, letting his arm be pulled across steady shoulders, taking on the weight, kevin hangs his head low. his knee, shoulder, and head are all aching, but here, where andrew’s warmth is seeping into his, kevin could never fall.
"okay, andrew," kevin barely hears himself rasp, his head knocking into andrew’s, staying there. "okay."