#dc comics#dc#bruce wayne#batman#dick grayson#dc fanart#tim drake#batfamily#batfam
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Philippines
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from China
seen from Italy
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from India
seen from Vietnam
seen from Australia
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The story begins...
Please read the tags and look after yourselves!
A Song Without Melody
this is for the prompt, “sing something for me” for jerejean sent by @foxsoulcourt i really loved writing this!! i hope you enjoy it :D
read on ao3
~
When Jean was young, his mother would call him her little songbird. She was the one that taught him to sing, swaying around their little kitchen in France, warm afternoon light spilling across counters to fall on Jean perched on top of them. Like a scoundrel, she would say with a hint of a smile, shooing him off the counters before his father came home.
Her favorite songs to sing were old French songs; Sous le ciel de Paris and La rue de notre amour, André Claveau and Jacqueline François. Pretty boys in Paris and streets of love, Les amoureux dans les coins noirs. Tinny voices drifting through static from the old radio propped up on the table. They were Jean’s favorite memories of his mother, and the memories he clung to most desperately in Evermore until the golden lit afternoons and apple pie cooling by the open windowsill, breeze billowing curtains, and his mother’s lilting voice were just too far to grasp.
Jean gave up singing then, in the Nest, where it was better to stay quiet and keep his head ducked low lest someone took notice of him. A songbird with no song, trapped in a nest of ravens. Jean wondered if his mother thought of him as much as he thought of her, if she missed him like he missed her.
secret santa time!
this is my TFC-Net Secret Santa post for @julianlavelle!! merry christmas!!
on ao3
-
Christmas had never been something that Neil had really experienced. For a while he felt no desire to take part, but being around his family as they prepared for the holiday season piqued his interest.
“Andrew,” he asked on the roof the night after their last finals, “do you want to do Christmas this year?”
He looked over lazily, smoke drifting from his mouth. It came out in a puff when he replied, “Do you want to?”
Neil shrugged, feeling sheepish at best. He took the cigarette from Andrew and took a short drag before handing it back. “I guess I want to try. Who knows, maybe I’ll hate it.” He kicked his feet over the edge of the roof and leaned against Andrew with a sigh.
A Story Told By Storms and Rain
read on a03
1.
Andrew couldn’t see anything outside his bedroom window. The sky outside was too dark, the rain coming down too heavy. Another crack of lightning lit up his room, allowing a brief second where Andrew could see the little space he was allowed; the messy bedsheets, the broken crayons hidden under the small dresser across from him, the battered book he had borrowed from the library last week.
He’d only been at this foster house for a couple months, and even at eight years old Andrew was old enough to know that this house wouldn’t last, either. He didn’t want it to, anyway. It wasn’t as bad here as it was at the last house, at least in this one no one ever sneaked into his room after dark.
Another low rumble of thunder shook the house. Andrew hunched farther under his blankets and squeezed his eyes shut. He hated rain, the dark it brought with. He hated that he couldn’t leave the house when it was wet and muddy outside, lest he tracked the dirt inside and didn’t get it cleaned up before his foster father came home. But most of all, he hated the thunder, the way it shook the walls and set Andrew’s teeth on edge.
Lightning and rain, Andrew could handle. Thunder put him too much on edge.
Andrew considered switching the light on and banishing the shadows from his room for good, but he couldn’t risk his foster father seeing it and getting mad, the old bruises hidden underneath Andrew’s shirt were still healing. Mottled purple and blue, it would be better to wait the storm out by himself in the dark.
Over the pounding of rain on the roof above him, Andrew thought he heard the floor in front of his door creak. His eyes snapped open and he froze, feeling the air drop ten degrees cooler. Andrew was sure if he dared to breathe, his breath would come out in a puffy white cloud before him. He stayed like that for minutes, not moving, not even breathing, listening for the sound of footsteps behind him or the creak of the doorknob turning, but it never came.
When Andrew was finally able to draw air into his lungs again, he turned over to face the door, shifting so the sheets wouldn’t get tangled around his legs. He scooted back, not taking his eyes off the door, and pressed his back to the wall, the window above him leaching any warmth that the blankets could provide.
Lightning flashed and the thunder rolled. Andrew wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.
2.
The rain beat a violent rhythm on the walls of the bathroom, doing nothing to help the pounding in Andrew’s temples. It didn’t often rain in Oakland, California, but when it did, it stormed.
Andrew spotted the angry, gray storm clouds in the distance while on his walk back home from school that afternoon. Large and foreboding, the clouds made a thread of anxiety wiggle its way inside Andrew’s chest, making him feel all jittery and shaky. He hated when it stormed. Cass was outside pulling the laundry from the clothes line to be taken inside when she saw Andrew approaching. She told him what AJ already knew: a storm was heading their way.
Now, he was huddled inside the Spears’ guest bathroom, arms hugging knees and back pressing into the cold porcelain of the bathtub. If he could help it, Andrew wouldn’t leave the sanctuary he carved out in the bathroom until the storm was over, or until Andrew could go to school the next morning.
He saw how Drake kept looking at him all throughout dinner, how his slick smile was somehow made worse by the drizzle of rain starting outside. How perfect, Andrew thought bitterly, a day all alone with my foster brother while the storm rages outside. How cozy.
Andrew’s stomach turned. He felt his headache get worse. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept without nightmares plaguing his dreams, the last time he was even able to relax in his own skin. The rain and thunder were louder in the bathroom, but Andrew would rather deal with that then face the monster waiting for him on the other side of the locked door.
Rubbing his hands up and down his arms, Andrew pretended nothing outside his bathroom existed. Everything that made up the universe was the bathtub digging into his back, the toilet and the sink, the ugly brown carpets Cass insisted on getting. He was alone in this world, and that’s exactly how Andrew wanted it.
Andrew wished he at least brought a blanket, but after he was done clearing his plate of spaghetti after dinner, he went straight to the bathroom and locked the door before anyone could even follow him upstairs. He hadn’t thought to keep a blanket and pillow in here. It didn’t matter though; here, he was safe. Here, he was alone. Here, no one could hurt Andrew but himself.
In the universe he made up inside his head, the box Andrew had hidden underneath the sink didn’t exist, either. Neither did rain.
3.
Andrew couldn’t see the rain from his room in the detention center. He knew it was raining, though, the other boys – the ones that were allowed to go outside for a couple hours every day – wouldn’t shut up about it. That, and Andrew’s scars always ached when it rained.
The handcuffs were a little over the top, Andrew thought as two of the guards took him to the room where he’d be able to meet his twin brother for the first time. Aaron Minyard. His brother. His twin. Separated a few days after birth, one twin for foster care and the other to stay with Mommy Dearest.
Andrew had seen Aaron before, but he never got to meet him, not with their nosy uncle in the room. This time, no one would be in the room except for Andrew, Aaron, and the two guards stationed by the door that didn’t give a shit anyway.
Andrew was the first one in the room where he was supposed to meet Aaron. There was a table and two chairs seated across from each other. Only one chair was placed in front of the pair of handcuffs fastened to the metal table. Andrew took the hint and sat in that seat. One of the guards uncuffed him and told him to put his wrists in the ones on the table. Andrew complied and zoned out as he was cuffed back to the table. Now he just needed to wait with nothing but the dull patter of rain he could just hear outside to keep him company.
Aaron arrived a few minutes later, escorted by another guard. His shoulders were spattered with raindrops and his hair, the same color as Andrew’s, was plastered to his forehead. Andrew watched with interest as Aaron flinched away from the guard when he moved to quickly to close the door. His face was covered with bruises again, but they weren’t the same ones from last time. No, these ones were fresh and dark purple. Something that almost felt like anger stirred in Andrew’ s chest, the first thing he’d felt in a long time. Someone was hurting his brother and Andrew really didn’t appreciate it.
When Aaron was seated, he gave Andrew a shaky smile which Andrew didn’t return. He got straight to business. His voice even, leaving no room for argument, he said, “Who gave you those bruises?”
Aaron startled, his eyes widening and hands twisting nervously over the other. “What? Uh, no one. I tripped and fell on the curb.”
Andrew knew it was bullshit. Aaron was a terrible liar and that was the same excuse he used two weeks ago, the first time Andrew asked. He leveled a look at his brother, he would get information out of him one way or another. Aaron shifted underneath Andrew’s scrutinizing stare.
“Don’t lie to me,” Andrew warned. He didn’t like liars, hated that his brother was one of them. He wondered if Aaron could keep a promise better than he could lie and thought about making a deal with him when he was out of juvie.
“I’m not,” Aaron said, his voice barely above a whisper. Andrew wondered if Aaron knew that he was in here because of Aaron, that Aaron only had to give him a name and Andrew would make sure that whoever was hurting him would never be able to lay a hand on him again.
They didn’t talk about much else, that first meeting. Aaron tentatively broached topics while Andrew rebuffed him. After the hour was up, Aaron was escorted out of the room by one of the guards while the other let Andrew out of his handcuffs. Aaron looked back one more time as the guard led him out to the rain, but Andrew didn’t bother returning it.
Andrew had a plan. He had a reason to leave this facility and reunite with his brother. He was going to make sure no one ever touched Aaron ever again. As Andrew was led back to his room, the storm inside his chest raged.
4.
The living room was dark and cold by the time Andrew made his way downstairs. Aaron was in his room, either sleeping soundly in his bed or working studiously at his desk. Nicky wouldn’t be back from his shift at Eden’s Twilight for a couple more hours. Andrew was alone in the living room.
It was raining again. It rained a lot more in South Carolina than it did in California, Andrew noted irately. Right now, the storm outside was shaking the window panes with the force of the wind and rain. Every couple minutes, lightning struck and thunder soon followed. Andrew just wanted some peace and quiet.
The bruises on his knuckles had long since faded. Weeks after the attack, Nicky’s face and ribs were pretty much healed. As soon as he was out of the hospital, he was back working the night shift at Eden’s. They couldn’t afford for him to miss anymore shifts, not after a week staying in the hospital. Even if Erik did take care of the medical bills, the water and heating still needed to be paid for. Andrew and Aaron’s jobs as dishwashers at Eden’s just weren’t enough to cover it.
Andrew didn’t regret beating up those bastards outside the club. He didn’t care that he nearly killed the four of them when he was smashing their faces into the concrete and he didn’t care now. They deserved it. Brought it upon themselves, really, when they thought they could touch his cousin. He would do it again if he needed to, even if next time it landed him in jail.
He got off easy, this time. Andrew wasn’t grateful he was ordered to be put through intense therapy and medication for his violence instead of going straight to prison, but he could admit that it would have been hard to protect his family behind bars.
He hated the drugs, though. Hated the constant high it forced him to be on, hated how he was never in control, never able to relax, to think, breathe. The drugs were supposed to soothe his violent tendencies, make Andrew safe to be around, but all they did was smother him, strip him of everything and put a smile on his face. Happy pills, Nicky had called them. But Nicky was wrong, the pills didn’t make Andrew happy, it made him feel empty and carved out inside. But that wasn’t the pills, was it?
When he was sleeping was the only time Andrew was allowed to be off of his medication. With them, sleep was impossible. Without them, he was a danger to society. Night time was the only time Andrew was able to find some quiet away from the constant buzzing in his skull brought about by his medication. Night time, once Andrew’s waking nightmare, was now his only solace.
But his quiet was ruined by the storm outside. He wasn’t mad, that the drip, drip, drip of rain against the windows was interrupting the only time Andrew had to himself. He didn’t feel much of anything. He simply acknowledged the rain and the fact that it displeased him. That was it. Andrew wasn’t sure he was capable of more. He didn’t really care.
Drip, drip, drip went the rain while Andrew stared at the wall and felt nothing.
5.
Neil Josten was a nuisance. He really couldn’t stay out of people’s business, could he?
Andrew stared out the window at all the planes waiting outside and the sheets of rain coming down from the darkened sky, wishing Neil had a mute button. He didn’t want to listen to Neil’s statistic about how many people died in a place crash every year, and Andrew was sure that percentage was raised when an airplane flew through a storm like the one outside.
“What was his name?” Andrew asked, just to shut Neil up. When Neil frowned, obviously not following Andrew’s line of thought, Andrew added, “Your father. What was his name?”
Neil’s expression shuddered and for a second Andrew thought he would have a panic attack right there in the middle of the airport. He had to answer though, it was Andrew’s turn in the game. Andrew watched the line of Neil’s throat out of the corner of his eye as he swallowed his anxiety.
Glancing around to make sure nobody was listening, Neil leaned in close and said at last, “Nathan. His name was Nathan.”
“You don’t look like a Nathan,” Andrew said, taking in the shock of auburn hair, the blue eyes the color of a summer sky, and the black number 4 on his left cheek bone.
“I’m not,” Neil said quietly, his voice strained. “I’m Nathaniel.”
Andrew flicked his gaze around his face, more just to look then to search for Nathaniel in Neil’s features. The admission had obviously spooked him, evident from the twitchiness in his hands and the quick glances he kept making toward all the exits. It didn’t take long for Andrew to get bored and look back out the window.
The rain wasn’t getting any lighter. Andrew wondered if their plane would crash in this weather, he wondered if he would survive it. He wondered if he wanted to. Andrew decided it was at least worth it to stick around a bit longer, if only to see what else Neil came up with. And he promised his brother he would see through to graduation to protect him, even if Aaron never kept up his end of the bargain.
Thinking of his deal with Aaron and Aaron’s tendency to sneak around with that cheerleader like Andrew didn’t know put a bitter taste in his mouth. Fuck Kevin and fuck Exy, Andrew thought as he pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket. He took a few bites, breaking off pieces with his fingers to make them smaller and easier to eat, before Wymack called them to board the plane.
Andrew followed his teammates onto the plane, keeping his face blank and bored as the rain attacked them from all sides of the boarding tunnel. A rumble of thunder almost made Andrew pause, but he could feel Neil’s annoyingly keen gaze on the side of his face so he kept his feet moving.
Andrew hated the rain, hated airplanes, and hated feeling like he’s being turned inside out, all his thought and secrets strewn out across the table to be examined. He hated Neil Josten.
+1
Raindrops pattered against the dorm room window, the drops falling gently against the glass and sliding off to pool on the windowsill. Andrew watched the pattern of light play across the face of the man lying beside him, the abstract shadows from the scars and the freckles made visible across his nose. Neil was awake, but his eyes were still closed, savoring the last few moments of sleep before he got up for his morning run.
Andrew dragged his eyes from the whorl of burn scars on Neil’s cheek to the mess of auburn curls scattered across the white pillow he had stolen from Andrew. Deciding he couldn’t stand not touching Neil anymore, Andrew ran his fingers through his sleep-rumpled hair, prompting Neil to blink open his eyes and let Andrew finally get a peak of his blue, blue eyes.
A slow smile spread across Neil’s face. Andrew had never gotten over the way Neil always seemed to brighten when he saw Andrew, not even after three years. Andrew wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to it, or if he even wanted to. He couldn’t bring himself to hate it.
“Morning,” Neil mumbled, stifling a yawn with the pillow tucked under his cheek.
“Staring,” Andrew replied instead of returning a greeting. Neil hummed and rubbed the last of the drowsiness from his eyes.
When Neil started to get up to pull on a shirt and his running shoes, Andrew wrapped light fingers around his wrist and pulled him back. Neil laughed as he stumbled, falling over Andrew. Andrew didn’t mind the close proximately, not when it was so warm, not when it was Neil.
“I need to go on my run,” Neil said, not bothering to stifle his grin.
“It’s Saturday. No practice or classes,” Andrew grunted. Andrew Minyard didn’t pout, he was just cold and didn’t want Neil to take all of his warmth out the door with him. That was it.
“I still go on a run on Saturday mornings, too,” Neil reasoned, making a move to get back up.
Andrew grabbed the strings of his sweatpants to stop him this time. “It’s raining, Neil. If you go out now, you’ll catch a cold and then I’ll have to listen to you bitch about not being able to go to practice. It’d be better for us all if you just stayed inside today.”
Neil had the audacity to look confused. “The rain’s never stopped me before.”
Andrew sighed. He really had to spell it out for him, didn’t he? He gave a sharp tug on the string of Neil’s sweatpants and waited for the realization to dawn on his face. Finally, he got it and returned to Andrew’s side on the bed.
Andrew traced Neil’s face with his fingers, grateful for the heat Neil provided. They were practically pressed against each other, they had to be when the mattress of the twin bed was so small. Not that either one of them complained.
“If you wanted a lazy day in bed you should have just said so,” Neil teased, his tongue sticking out between his teeth.
“You’re an idiot,” Andrew replied, leaning in to place slow kisses to Neil’s lips.
Maybe the rain wasn’t so bad today, after all.
Restart ~ Chapter 12
read on ao3
Neil had been awake for hours, tracing the pattern of cracks reaching across the ceiling with his eyes, his hands folded across his stomach while he lay on his back. The sun filtered in from the window, casting long tendrils of light across the room and catching the dust floating in the air.
Neil breathed in. Breathed out.
After the game last night with Binghamton, the Foxes didn’t stick around for very long. When they reached Palmetto and unpacked the bus, Neil just wanted to go up to his dorm and go to bed. He really didn’t feel like going out to Columbia with the others for drinks, but he also didn’t feel safe alone in the dark dorm room.
The Upperclassmen stayed behind, but Neil tagged along with Andrew and his group to Eden’s. Andrew made Kevin stick to his promise and kept him from getting shitfaced, and Nicky and Aaron nursed the loss at the table before disappearing in the crowd for a couple of minutes. They didn’t stay for very long; they’d arrived late and no one really felt like dancing.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 17/17 Fandom: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Nicky Hemmick/Erik Klose, Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (All For The Game), Matt Boyd/Danielle “Dan” Wilds Characters: Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard, Aaron Minyard, Nicky Hemmick, Kevin Day, Danielle “Dan” Wilds, Matt Boyd, Allison Reynolds (All For The Game), Renee Walker (All For The Game), David Wymack, Abby Winfield, Betsy Dobson, Erik Klose, Katelyn (All For The Game), Stephanie Walker, some ocs but they’re not super important Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Zombies, a rampant abuse of exy rackets used as weapons, Explosions, none of the foxes die dw, andrew has two pov chapters guess which ones Summary:
“Turn it off. I can’t watch this any longer,” Matt said. “We need to know what’s going on,” Andrew replied flatly. “Andrew, we know what’s going on – the fucking world is ending. I don’t want to see it anymore.” Matt grabbed the remote off the couch beside Neil and flicked the TV off. Andrew didn’t move to stop him.
Near the end of Neil’s last year at Palmetto, an outbreak of a disease, nicknamed the Brazilian Fever, throws the world into anarchy when the diseased bodies that started piling up acquired a hunger for flesh. With so much on the line, Neil and the rest of the Foxes decide Palmetto isn’t safe anymore. While decked out in orange and Exy sticks, there’s zombies, violence, enemies dead and alive, and the underlying need for survival.
Restart ~ Chapter 11
Read on ao3
You are a pawn and nothing more.
Neil fired off two more balls in the direction of the cones, knocking them both down in rapid succession. He picked up another from the bucket resting beside his feet and tossed it in the air, caught it with his racquet, and flung it at the wall for it to rebound and knock down the last cone with a resounding thud.
At any rate, you are useless to me.
He was a robot, a machine, knocking down cones one after the other and then picking them up and doing it all over again. His body was fine-tuned to Exy. This was what he was good at. He would not let his failure to perform force his hand to sign his own death certificate.
Should you fail, you will pay the price of my wasted time.
Neil twirled his racquet in his hand and prepared to start the drill over again. He shifted his feet and had only taken one running step when Kevin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“That’s three times without missing a cone, Neil. Take shots at the goal and then we’ll leave,” Kevin said.
“We haven’t been here long enough. Only –”
“Three hours. Any more and you’ll pull something and then you’ll be benched.” Kevin snapped his fingers as he wheeled Neil around so he faced Andrew in goal. “Thirty minutes.”
Neil bit back a complaint and shook out his arms and prepared to fire at the goal. Andrew stayed still in the goalie box, watching Neil for his first move.
Ichirou’s words had been circling his head ceaselessly since Monday. When he tried to sleep, he heard his deadline. When he closed his eyes, he saw Ichirou’s remorseless face. Ichirou was a shadow following Neil’s every move.
He’d had been working tirelessly, non-stop, relentlessly every practice with the Foxes and every night practice after that. He spent extra time in the gym, long after the rest of the team left and the lacrosse team needed it. He’d even been skipping his classes to spend more time at the Foxhole Court until Dan found out and dragged Neil to Calculus by the collar of his shirt.
The Foxes were playing Binghamton tomorrow and Neil was dreading it for more than one reason. It was the last game before Death Matches started up and the Foxes couldn’t afford to lose. Neil couldn’t afford to lose.
Squaring his shoulders, Neil raised his racquet and feinted right before twisting and swinging to the top left corner of the goal. Andrew saw it coming and rebounded it back to him. Neil caught it and fired just above Andrew’s head, but he deflected that, too. Instead of passing it back to Kevin or Neil, Andrew caught it and dropped it to the ground. He put his foot on it before it could roll away.
“You move your foot to whichever side you mean to shoot at. Your tells are too noticeable,” Andrew said.
If Neil wasn’t seething, he might have been pleased Andrew was showing some form of interest in the game but as it was, his frustration clouded everything and he just motioned for Andrew to serve with an impatient wave of his racquet.
The next time he aimed, he made sure to take two purposeful steps and fire with his toes planted firmly on the ground. He swung, feeling the force of the swing move through his arms and his back until it connected with the ball. The ball slammed into the wall of the goal before Andrew could block it.
A pleased thrill shuddered through Neil, making him clench his racquet in his hands. He stretched his fingers and caught the ball when Andrew rebounded it back to him.
Neil didn’t stop taking shots on Andrew until he scored on him five times, even when Kevin told him to start packing up. After the fifth shot smacked into the middle of the goal and lit up red, Andrew stepped to the side to signal that he was done, and so was Neil.
“You let me have that,” Neil snapped.
Andrew’s face was impassive behind his face guard. “I did not. And we’re leaving.”
“It’s not even midnight yet –”
“We have a game tomorrow, Neil. You need to get some fucking sleep. No –” Kevin pointed a warning finger when Neil tried to interrupt. “Did you think I didn’t notice you not sleeping? Zip it and stop compromising your health. We’re done here.”
Neil clenched his jaw so hard, his vision blurred. He sucked in a quick breath through his nose and then released all the tension from his muscles on the exhale. By the time his entire body was more or less relaxed, Kevin had collected the Exy balls and cones and shut the stadium lights off. Andrew scooped up the ball by his feet with a gloved hand and pushed it against Neil’s chest as he passed.
Neil showered quickly, not caring that Kevin and Andrew were in the locker room showering as well. He felt wired and amped up like he could run three laps around the court and still have the energy for a scrimmage.
Before he could even think about detouring back to the court, Andrew snagged the hood of his jacket and steered him to the Maserati. The farther away Neil got from the court and the closer to Fox Tower, Neil could feel the energy draining out of him and the exhaustion evident in the bags under his eyes nestling in his bones.
Despite his previous anxiety, Neil passed out before Kevin had even turned off the lights in the dorm, barely even changing into sweatpants to sleep in before he crawled into his bed and faceplanted into the pillow.
He stayed asleep and dreamt of nothing all night.
When he woke up, Neil gave himself three minutes to stare at the ceiling and assess everything from the aches in his body to the threats playing through his head.
The only thing he didn’t let himself do was think about how much that car accident had taken from him, how much of a predicament it had put him in. He definitely didn’t wonder what his life would be like if he had never cracked open his head.
Neil, Andrew, and Kevin were the first to arrive in the lobby of the Foxhole Court where Wymack and Abby were waiting for them. Kevin forced Neil to eat three granola bars and some disgusting health-shake made of blended vegetables and protein powder before the rest of the Foxes arrived. Then he stopped Kevin before he made Andrew drink one too and got staked in the ribs for his efforts.
After a short talk, Wymack released them so they could pack their equipment and load up. Andrew pulled Neil into his seat at the back of the bus and put him by the window. Neil wasn’t concerned that Andrew was blocking his exit; he felt safe where he was. Andrew wouldn’t acknowledge the grateful look Neil shot him.
Even though he got plenty of sleep before, Neil was out like a light as soon as the bus was on the Interstate. When he woke three hours later, Wymack was pulling into the Binghamton parking lot and the Foxes were stretching out their legs and arms. Neil rubbed away the remaining sleep from his eyes and smoothed his hand over the indents in his face from where he was pressed against the window.
“Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” Neil mumbled to Andrew, his words slurred with sleep.
Andrew shrugged. His attention was on the large stadium outside. “You looked tired. Like a raccoon.”
“What?”
Andrew didn’t respond. Wymack had parked the bus and the Foxes were starting to file off so Neil got up and followed Andrew down the aisle. When he hopped off the last step of the bus, he scanned every inch of the stadium to see if it triggered any memories.
He knew where he was. He knew what happened here. A little less than a year ago Neil had been kidnapped off of this campus by his father’s men. In less than forty-eight hours after that, Neil Josten was in the system to be a real person and all the people who wanted to hurt Neil were dead or being hunted down by the FBI.
Except for one.
Neil wished he was lucky enough for Ichirou to be hit by a bus and put an end to all of this. He let himself imagine a life of freedom, no contracts tied to his life, no investments. Just Exy. And the Foxes.
It was unlikely so Neil shooed away the wishful thinking and retrieved his and Andrew’s bags from under the bus. The inside of the stadium was just as unfamiliar, but Neil thought he felt something when they entered the lounge. It was fleeting and when Neil tried to reach for it, it slipped through his fingers and left him feeling uneasy.
When Neil stepped into the men’s locker room, he nearly dropped his duffel bag. He thought he covered up his flinch, smoothed away the expression on his face, but the sound of air catching in his throat caught Andrew’s attention anyway.
Andrew didn’t need to ask what was wrong. He knew. He caught hold of Neil’s sleeve and tugged. “Breathe, Neil,” he said, leaning closer.
Neil wanted to do what Andrew told him, he really did, but how could he breathe when he heard Lola’s voice in his ears? How could he walk through this locker room when a stark black 0 flashed before his eyes every time he blinked? Neil’s chest squeezed and he caught hold of Andrew’s wrist to help ground him. Andrew didn’t seem to mind, his hand tightening in Neil’s sleeve.
“Neil, are you alright?”
Neil turned to Matt, hoping his eyes weren’t stretched as wide with panic like he thought they were. They were going to kill him. If Stuart hadn’t shown up when he did then Neil –
“Do you need me to get Abby?” Nicky asked him, pointing behind his shoulder from where they came in from.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Now? If you screw this up for us, Josten, I hope they kick you off the team –” Jack started. At the sight of Andrew and Kevin’s combined glare, his mouth clamped shut, but his glower wasn’t any less poisonous.
“What do you need, Neil?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? Neil needed to win this game, he needed to remember, he needed his Foxes, he needed to breathe, he needed to breathe, he needed to breathe.
So he breathed.
Neil took one deep breath and released it, then he took another and another. When the fuzziness in his lungs cleared away and Neil could think properly, he said, “I’m fine. I need to play.”
Nicky looked doubtful, but Kevin thumped him on the back and Andrew released him when he decided Neil wasn’t going to hyperventilate and pass out on the tile floor.
The entire time Neil dressed, he couldn’t quite dispel thoughts of Lola and his father out of his head. If he listened closely, he could hear the sounds of the crowd roaring from the stadium. Neil told himself it was different from the sounds of an angry riot. He checked for the blood he knew wasn’t really caked underneath his nails.
He didn’t want to think of the riot or getting kidnapped. Instead, he immersed himself in the Foxes’ friendly banter as they got ready for the game. Matt clapped his hand on Neil’s shoulder and gave him a friendly shake, grinning brightly at him. Past his shoulder, Neil caught sight of Renee and Andrew discussing plays with the freshmen goalkeeper. Andrew caught his eye and held it.
Soon enough it was time to file onto the inner court. Neil felt he was finally getting hold of his bearings; it was easier to think with the Plexiglas walls around him and the rumbling of the crowd in the stands. Wymack gave them a brief pep talk and released them to do their warm-ups.
Neil was starting striker with Kevin, so when the refs locked them on the court with the Binghamton players, he lined up on the starting line and raised his racquet. Neil’s shoulders were set, his face locked in a glare. Around him, he had his Foxes, Kevin at his side and Andrew at his back. When he caught Dan’s eye behind the face guard of her helmet, she gave him a determined look and tossed the ball in the air to serve.
The Foxes lost. Badly.
Neil hooked his fingers in the grill of his helmet and tore it off, but it didn’t change the red numbers on the scoreboard.
10-4, Binghamton’s favor.
The excited screams of triumph and outrage from the crowd faded to a dull buzz until Neil could only hear the blood pulsing through his ears. The world narrowed to that 4 and Neil thought he was going to throw up. This had to be a mistake, this was a nightmare. Neil would wake up on the bus in Binghamton’s campus and then the real game would start –
The Foxes’ loss was from no lack of trying on their part. They played viciously and desperately, every move played like it was their last. It just wasn’t good enough.
The players on both teams lined up and shook hands, but Neil wasn’t paying attention. It wasn’t until he was on his way off the court when someone from behind shoved him hard enough to almost send him sprawling when everything snapped back into place.
“What the fuck was that, Josten?” Jack snarled, getting in his face.
Neil shoved him away but this time, Sheena was there and caught his arm and pushed him forward. Neil was caught between Jack and Sheena, each jostling him back and forth as Jack yelled.
“You know what, I’m getting real sick and tired of this bullshit,” Jack’s voice rose higher and louder with each word. “You think you can just come onto the court and fuck everything up for everyone else? You’re just an amateur who got lucky. You don’t belong on this court, you’re a fucking disgrace, a –”
Robin stepped in between Jack and Neil. “Stop! It’s not his fault!”
“Oh really?” Jack said, wheeling on Robin instead. She jutted out her chin and met his enraged expression head on. “Because from where I’m standing, he fumbled three shots that should have been easy. I could have scored those goals with my eyes closed.”
“But you didn’t, did you, Jack? You’re too busy jacking off to how great you are — how better you are than everyone — to really get a goal,” Neil fired back, just as loud. “You think I’m an amateur? Who was the one who helped the Foxes win a championship title last year? That sure as hell wasn’t you. You’re just a whiny fucking brat with an attitude problem. Because guess what? You didn’t score those goals. You were sitting on the sidelines for most of the game, bitching at everyone else instead of actually contributing.”
“Hey, hey! That’s enough. Jack, Neil –”
Neil ignored Dan. “Remind me why you’re in my face again? You’re just a shitty fanboy with no real promise. That’s never going to get you very far in life, sorry to say.”
Jack sputtered, his face turning a vibrant shade of magenta. “Is that so, Natha–”
Neil’s fist connected with Jack’s face before he could get out the entire word, but the name hung in the air like the blade of a guillotine over Neil’s neck. The refs finally made their way through the knot of Foxes. One of them grabbed Neil by the shoulders and yanked him away from Jack before he could land another punch. Jack leapt up with fists swinging, but Dan shoved him back with one hand on his chest and the other warding off Neil from getting any closer.
“That’s enough! We are a team and you two need to start acting like one or I will bench you both for the rest of the season, you hear me?”
Neil glared at Jack. A red spot was blooming on his cheekbone and Neil very much wanted to add to it.
“I said, you hear me?”
“Yes, Dan,” Neil replied, his voice laced with lingering anger. Jack didn’t say anything; he just shook Dan off of him and stalked towards the locker room.
Neil shrugged the hands from his shoulders and followed after Aaron and Matt. Before he could get very far, though, the press intercepted him. A microphone was shoved into his face as cameras all around him flashed.
“Neil Josten! Is it true you sustained major memory loss after the car accident? How would you say that affected your relationship with your team?”
Neil should keep walking, he really should.
Neil stopped and turned his glare on the reporter, who looked pleased to have his attention. He didn’t know who leaked his amnesia to the press, but he was sick of this. The reporter didn’t seem deterred by his withering glare, but Neil knew he could make it even more venomous.
“Do none of you have anything better to do than pry into people’s lives? Is your life really that shitty? Like, I get it. It must be real fucking boring, sitting around your house all day waiting for a good story, but you vultures need to get some friends and leave me the hell alone.”
Kevin snatched at Neil’s jersey to pull him away but Neil wasn’t done. He shook out of Kevin’s grip. The reporter’s mouth hung wide open as she stared at Neil in shock. “If your career really sucks that bad that you need to ask questions about something that happened weeks ago, you need to get with it because that’s old news by now. Do you seriously get off on other people’s pain? I’m sick of all of you and your damn questions. You bloodsuckers can go fuck yourselves and get these cameras out of my face.”
Neil let Kevin pull him away then, not bothering to turn around and see the damage he caused. When he got to the locker room, Neil went straight to his duffel and dug around for his clothes. He wouldn’t look at anyone. His anger was still radiating off of him in hot waves.
He wanted to hit something, punch Jack again, put a dent in the locker, anything. Neil’s body trembled with the effort to keep his movements in check and non-violent as he yanked the clean clothes and a towel out and zipped his duffel back up.
When he straightened, Andrew was waiting at the end of the bench with his arms folded across his chest and an unimpressed look on his face. Neil ignored it and brushed past him to get to the showers. Jack didn’t say a word; he kept shooting scowls from across the room instead.
Neil didn’t say anything at all while the Foxes loaded up onto the bus. He sat in the row in front of Andrew’s and stared out the darkened window the entire ride home.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 9/? Fandom: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard Characters: Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard, Aaron Minyard, Nicky Hemmick, Kevin Day, Danielle “Dan” Wilds, Matt Boyd, Allison Reynolds (All For The Game), Renee Walker (All For The Game), David Wymack, Abby Winfield, Ichirou Moriyama Additional Tags: Amnesia, Recovery, Slow Burn, :), theres a lot of smoking in this smoking is bad don’t smoke kids, the yakuza also makes their appearances, Panic Attacks Series: Part 2 of Pause and Restart My Heart Summary:
Neil Josten hated hospitals.
When he was on the run with his mom, they would hide out in warehouses or sketchy motel rooms and stitch themselves back together with a needle and a bottle of whiskey. He didn’t trust hospitals; they were far too open and public for his taste, doctors made it worse with their too-many nosy questions. It was the last thing Neil needed.
But when Neil wakes up in a hospital with no recollection of how he got there and no memory of the past two years of his life, Neil hated it a little bit more.
