So, Kevin is in real trouble. He knows the rules like the back of his hand — you don't look, you don't pay attention, you don't let anyone think you're weird about other players’ bodies. He breaks the fucking rules. Neil Josten is too pretty not to look, his ass is… something. He has a husband, a hot one, too. Kevin is a rookie and a star kid and always gets a lot of attention, he shouldn't be weird about good players thinking high of him.
He is being super weird, though. Imagine Andrew blocking his shot, Neil passing the ball to him from some insane distance, jerk off. Rinse and repeat till it actually hurts. It's embarrassing, sure, but what a young man can do, a young, horny man, that gets showered with attention by his (inappropriate) crushes.
It's nothing special, he understands perfectly. Neil just calls him when it's five to nine, asks if Kevin has had dinner yet. He hasn't, what a coincidence.
Neil takes him out, just the two of them, some vegan place that is not really about fashion but about… confession? Kevin isn't really sure. It's cheap, too, so Kevin insists on having the bill covered, Neil flashes him a shy smile.
“You're such a gentleman, Kevin,” he says. “You're lucky I can appreciate a generous man.”
Neil says it like he's pretty confident about staying on the right page here. Like he knows Kevin isn't going to try and read so much more into this sentence.
“You're lucky the place is cheap, then,” a little smile from him, now.
“Oh, it's not only about money,” Neil looks at Kevin's face, as if trying to find something more interesting than there is. “Not about money at all, actually.”
Kevin knows this conversation sounds like it was cropped out of some romantic movie, but the temptation of this flirt-pretend is too strong.
Kevin feels Neil's foot near his shin, and this is fucking cruel. Kevin moves his legs so they really touch. Stupid? Yes. Hopeless? Definitely.
“Just… Sharing.” Neil answers. “Do you know how to share, Kevin?”
The word stings like a fucking wasp.
It's sharing, Kevin. Good boys don't have anything to hide from their brothers. You're not being a good brother, Kevin, try again.
And again, and again, till there's nothing left. Sharing is showing love.
“Dunno, I'm pretty territorial,” Kevin smiles at Neil.
“Oh,” Neil breathes out softly.
They stare at each other awkwardly, it's like Neil hadn't really expected Kevin to say something like that. Kevin can understand, his childish stance can be pretty unusual for other people.
“So, you do share?” he asks, after a while. He likes to pretend he's flirting, though it's really just asking weird questions, he never learned.
“Oh,” another soft sound from Neil. “Not usually. With the right people I do.”
It feels almost erotic, hearing Neil say that. Kevin has no clue what he's talking about, but shares his salad with Neil, shares his drink and gives him the whole dessert cake, raw berry one, it looks delicious.
He lets himself be entranced by quiet chewing sounds that Neil makes, it's surprisingly meditative, if you think about it. He looks at Neil's full cheeks and his sinful lips, too pretty to be kissed by only one man at a time.
“I'll be honest with you, Kevin,” for whatever reason Neil says. “I can't quite understand you.”
He looks pensive, focused.
“What is there to understand?”
“Exy prodigy, the son of Kayleigh, Evermore little star. What makes you so sad? You're not enjoying food, you're too stressed between games, you're-”
“Don't talk about me like that, Neil,” Kevin is almost proud to be biting back. “My life is not made of newspaper headlines, you should know that.”
“And I know, believe me. It's just… You are… Andrew is worried.”
“Why would he be worried?” Kevin asks, thinking he's doing something wrong.
“You're young, Kevin. Too young to look so… Sorry, um. Fuked up, I wanted to say, but it may sound kinda rude. You don't seem to enjoy anything besides exy.” Neil plays with the rim of his glass, cranes his neck.
“I love exy,” is all Kevin can say really, because what else to say? He's fucked up and doesn't enjoy… well. “And I like spending time with you. Two.”
Neil's smile is warm but also humble.
“We like you, too,” Neil says, and Kevin feels his cheeks grow warm. It was not what he said, he said he liked the time, not them in particular. He likes the drives, the dates like this one, the food they make him eat, the attention.
“Thank you,” Kevin utters stupidly. “You two are kind to me.”
“It would be a shame to treat a boy like you poorly, Kevin,” well.
Fuck Neil Josten. Marry him, kill, too. That's embarrassing for Kevin to be sitting here, with their legs touching, and pretend he doesn't get a hint.
He does, he fucking gets the stupid hint. They want him. He's young and agile and good at exy and pretty and easygoing. That's what he wants them to see, actually. There's nothing to worry about when you're with him, look, Kevin is cute! Sad, but cute. Aggressive on court, but still cute. Fucked up, and still kinda cute.
And you don't get to judge him if he wants to play the game for a bit longer. He knows it's not fair to lead them on it, but the thrill really makes Kevin feel something, as if he’s alive or something. That's not quite the same as scoring a goal, winning a game. It's like he's interesting and worth of attention, like he's a decent person to talk to, it's just… better. He's half a person with them, not the pathetic shell of it. Still not whole, but someone, at least.
“Well, there are many shameless people in the world,” is what he says. Neil's eyes are piercing him, trying to find a path to follow, a question to ask.
“Can you name them for me?” Neil asks politely, shifting on his chair.
Kevin laughs at his joke, of course Kevin can't name any of them. That'd mean drawing a target on his back with neon paint. He doesn't want that.
Neil smiles at him, “I like it when you laugh.”
“Wait till you see me cry,” Kevin shoots back.
It may sound stupid for Neil, but Kevin knows some people liked him crying. Or maybe making him cry was more of their turn on, not the tears. Kevin was a good boy and cried when they asked. Cried when he didn't know to stop, when there was nothing else to do. He cried when he wasn't allowed, when Riko’s head resemled a crushed little pumpkin, not a human head. And Kevin knew it could've been him — their last performance together, when only one was able to get back on court.
Kevin had thought it was more about broken limbs of cut tendons, not about ending one brother's life after losing a game.
“I don't want you to cry,” Neil says, while his hand crawls across the table.
He lays his hand palm up, a silent offering.
“You never know,” Kevin says, putting his palm over Neil's.
suspects: @rantabtaftg @orionchildofhades @kevin-david-day @chaoticgremelin @minyards-pipedream @stardoused @all-for-exy @floatingin-yourdreams @leavetheleaf @thisuserdead @whatever810 @5buny @fluffypotatey @spitefulwizard (letme know if you're not guilty and don't want to be there ofc)
