The new Hatchlings of the Ravens

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/48633979.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day/Thea Muldani, Nicky
Hemmick/Erik Klose, Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Katelyn/Aaron
Minyard, Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard
Characters: Ichirou Moriyama, Jiro Moriyama (OC), David Day (OC), Andrew
Minyard, Neil Josten, Kevin Day, Aaron Minyard
Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Neil as coach of the little league, Andrew
as his fierce boyfriend, Kid Fic, Jiro is a little biscuit, Kevin's son
definitely has ADHD, Andrew is a loving dad, Abuse, Past Child Abuse,
Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Andrew
is doing much better but he is also plotting murder, Amputee Neil, POV
Neil Josten, POV Andrew Minyard, POV Multiple, Post-Traumatic
Stress Disorder - PTSD, ADHD, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse,
Career Ending Injuries, Adoption, kind of, Foster Care, Also kind of, No
beta - I have no friends
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-07-16 Updated: 2024-03-16 Words: 112,092 Chapters:
26/?
 The new Hatchlings of the Ravens
by Eva_Blu

Summary

Neil is injured on the Court after years of winning championships for Ichirou Moriyama. But
Ichirou won't let his investment go to waste, there's a new generation of future Ravens to
coach, the little league team of Hatchlings.

Jiro is the second son of the Moriyama family and his path in life is already decided.
David, the son of the great Kevin Day, is over the moon at the idea of being trained by his
favourite striker, Neil Josten.

Andrew knows they will never be free of the Moriyamas, that's why he drops his Exy career
to find a way to set Neil free.

Notes

Ok, so, lots of children in this fic. Lots of traumatized children that need a couple of
traumatized gays to support them.
I'm going blind into this. I'm writing it exclusively as a guilty pleasure, so I don't know how
long it'll be, but I sure plan to enjoy myself.

This fic will have canon type of violence and the same trigger warnings for the original story.
For anything major I'll add TW at the beginning of each chapter.
 The injury
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

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 coming
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 doctor!" Screams the Coach.

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 own.

"Stay still."

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

Andrew just squeezes his hand. "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 doesn't 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 the hand that isn't gripping Neil, Andrew is holding his biggest knife. He has been holding
it for the past three hours, Neil is sure. Guarding his 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 murderous 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. 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 Matt, since he's the one living closer, he's on his way here
with his car."
Neil takes a breath. Andrew has already thought about running. After everything they did to
build a life of their own, Andrew was ready to throw it all away for Neil. That warm feeling
that he 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. 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 five second 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 has 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. Please. There is no need for
hostility." This 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 just a tiny 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. The life and
education of Mr. Jiro is above yours, and any other on the team. Do you understand?"

Neil swallows what feels like pure acid. The memory of Riko ordering him to kneel is too
strong to be stopped.

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 steps forward.

"Do you understand, Nathaniel Wesninski?"

Chapter End Notes

I remember Ichirou saying something about this whole Raven debacle being stupid, and
that he was gonna suspend the whole operation. Soooo, guess he changed his mind?

I suppose this is not completely canon-compliant. But even the canon is not completely
canon-compliant, so I consider myself forgiven.
 Ever heard of condoms?
Chapter Notes

And here we are with chapter twoooo! Next time we are going to meet the kids!

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 has 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 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 has 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 has 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.

“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 and goes and grabs Felix from the
window. “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 can’t do it, it’s that he
doesn’t want to. His first deal with the Moriyamas has not made him feel trapped, because
what they wanted from him, just so happened to be what he 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 falls silent and for a while that’s all there is.

“You’ll be good at it. I know you will.”

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 again.

Neil pulls 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’ll 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 can 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, tender 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 did try for a good bit, but the wheels got untangled in the grass, and the gravel made
any step they managed 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 both of them.

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, for some
reason. Maybe because 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.

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 exact order.

“Neil… anything you need. Of course.”

And so Neil explains what the world would soon 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
have been.

“Please, 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?”

Dan seems even prouder at that. Her 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 hasn’t called or showed himself
yet. Neil has tried to call him, but he has always found the line busy.

“This is all riveting.” Andrew has 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.

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 three more self-pitying comments today, then I 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 smile 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 had 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!” Yells Kevin.

He is going to grab the cats. Thinks Neil.

Before Andrew comes down, Wymack makes his way into the living room. Everything about
him is older, especially the eyes. They look tired and sad.

“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.” Replies Neil. “I will start rehabilitation next week. And they have
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 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… 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 him. “You… 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 is checking his nails. “Ever heard of condoms?” Neil knows he is still pissed at
Kevin and Wymack for taking almost two months to visit.

Kevin just glares at him. Then he shakes his head and the same desperation that had engulfed
him when he was trying to get away from Riko takes over him. “I know we’ve been
irresponsible. I thought that if I never acknowledged him they would leave him alone. 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. Right?”

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. I can’t!” There’s almost a sob hidden in his words.
“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 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.” Replies Neil 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…”

“Riko’s dead.”
“There’s a new Riko, now.” Kevin laughs, an ugly, unsettling sound. “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...”

“Ehi.” 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..."

 The Eyrie
Chapter Notes

Last chapter I said we were going to meet the kids in this chapter, but turns out, I needed
one more.
Have a good read, and thanks for the comments and kudos.

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 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 had been distant when it came to intimacy, since the injury. Neil wasn’t too
worried about it. Consistent therapy had helped Andrew a lot, but he still had moments when
skin contact made him spiral. Those moments were 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 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 a national-level 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 both 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 knew they were 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 preparing 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 built 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 then keep driving for several hours.

When the car takes a turn to a secondary road, there hasn’t been a sign of civilization for a
while. Around them there was 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 in complete silence 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 here was 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. 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’s 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.”
Adds Andrew. “It’d take four hours to get to the nearest shop.”

Beatrice smiles and doesn’t bother to confirm or deny.

As they get closer, the details of the stadium gets 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.

They didn’t bring the wheelchair, so Neil prepares for the intense exercise that awaits 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 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 cute.

Neil feels immediately disturbed by that brief association of his mind 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.”

It 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. Neil 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.” Says Andrew when Neil pushes to start climbing.

“Aren’t you the one that insisted 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 canteen.”
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.

Neil sees the black walls, see 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 is immediately back, his 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.”

Andrew starts to back off, but Neil remains unmovable and promptly switches to 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.”

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 stadium, 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 outside of the stadium, from a door opposite the one they
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
outside of the walls, then there are trees planted all around it, benches, fountains, flowers.
You can almost forget this is a deserted wasteland.

“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 are a desk and a big comfy chair 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 have 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 what about your practice? You cannot possibly make that kind of trip 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.
 The hatchlings hatch
Chapter Notes

This chapter is a long boiiii

Enjoy my babies.

The day after their little trip to the Eyrie, 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 stadium, 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. The corridor is long. There are many 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 Matt and
Allison 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 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, that meant 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 pediatrician, an electrician, a plumber, that
creepy ass 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, which is just as well.

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 begged him to stop 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 came 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 situation?”

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 Neil comes back.

Asahi and Jiro are coming forward, stopping once they are right in front of them. Asahi
makes a little nod. “This is 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 has 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 the 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 has 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 has 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 a son. 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 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 Neil 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 21st century. Doesn’t it?

Suddenly, he feels months pf pent-up anger explode in his chest. This bullshit has been going
on since he was born. He had thought he’d 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 has been there all this time. Neil has told him to wait there, and the kid has
stayed so still and quiet, Neil has 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 see her for a long time.

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 he has 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… wait, what?”

The woman looks down at little Sadie, still spread on the ground, with her hair a mess. She
was 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 anyone.

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 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 sixty
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 adorable! 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 must be Ray Guerrero. He has no bag, or suitcase, or 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 a stupid voice: “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 feels 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 as tall as you would expect Kevin’s son to be. His hair is un unruly mess of
brown curls. 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 2003,
2004, and then again in 2006, 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 5th of December
2003. 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 neither. So you can drop it.”
David doesn’t seem to have noticed the conversation, 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 as a thank you.

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 Neil 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!” David has fallen from one of his cartwheels, but he didn’t even seem to notice,
he is 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 of 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 greatest grandpa in the
world!”

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

“It’s adorable.” Neil says.

“It’s a disaster.” Kevin says, completely serious. Neil can’t believe Kevin can be so callous to
his own child, but when he looks at his tormented expression, Neil 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 could 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.
 Malcolm like...
Chapter Notes

Absolutely, do not get used to this uploading schedule. Lower your expectations as far
as they will go, and that's where I will meet you at some point. Seriously, I generally
upload very slowly.

That being said, I'm aware I introduced a lot of characters in one go, and that can get
confusing.
In the next chapter I'll upload some pictures for reference to give some visual support.

Thank you for the comments in the previous chapters, you're all lovely <333

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. 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 father, uncertain. Then
he looks to the side, where Jiro is shaking off the dirt from his suit.

Jiro somehow senses David 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 his 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 already
stressed out of his mind. His glasses are slipping away from his nose at every turn of his
head. The nail of his little finger is permanently trapped between his teeth.

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 Neil 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 excitement. 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 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 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 Coach’s 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. “Or else I’ll inform our masters that you’re useless.”

Melody’s grin doesn’t quiver, but she doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that.

“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 statium.

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. I don’t think she’s her
daughter, but… niece maybe? 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 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.

 First day of practice
Chapter Notes

With this chapter we get Andrew's POV. We face potentially triggering topics (reference
to past abuse, present abuse, ptsd, strong/offensive language, and such).

💖
Thank you all for your support . The next chapter (I'll upload it immediately) is an
EXTRA chapter with the pictures of the characters that I used as reference.

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 has gone 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
prosthetics.

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 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 privets 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 at 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.

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 the 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.

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 sink. 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.

Andrew 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 here, 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?”

“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?”

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
prosthetics. 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.

Harry 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, getting in the way of whoever tries to
get closer to the goal. 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. 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. Please, 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.

 EXTRA: visual references for the Hatchlings
Chapter Notes

💖💖
Here it is: the Hatchlings team, all their positions, names, ages and a picture as reference

I've published this chapter right after chapter 6, so make sure you read that one.

(I have found most of these pictures from Pinterest, so finding the original source was
basically impossible. Tbh I don't even know from what media the characters represented
in the pictures come from. Expect for Harry, I know she's from Undertale, and that's it,
lol.)

I'll "see" you in the next chapter (a regular one).

Peace
 Happy
Chapter Notes

K. I don't know what devil is running behind me with a whip to make me write so fast.
Still. Here it is (and the next chapter is already ready, but y'all will have to wait
tomorrow, cause we need to have SOME self control, here)

Also, this is an Andrew's POV, again. We deal with heavy stuff, AGAIN.
I promise next chapter will be slightly more upbeat (we're gonna hop in David's POV, I
hope you don't mind if we get some of the kiddos POV every once in a while)

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?”

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 them 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 prosthetics.

“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.”

“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 kicks his blankets from the last upper bed and starts 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 murder.

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. He means getting lost in
useless mind spirals.

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 let him torment the cat. Neil grabs the little fluffball
and touches his pads. He then guides 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 prosthetics and hurries to help him put it on. 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 to 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… worried. 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.”

 School test and strangulation
Chapter Summary

Here's David's POV :3

The next chapter is also already ready. I don't know what came over me, really.

Enjoy!
(Thanks for all the comments, kudos etc.✨ 💖)

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 as 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 mom had tried to teach him to play chess, but David thinks it’s super boring, he’d
rather play outside. But they don’t have a big garden or anything, so David can’t play outside
most of the time. But his mom 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, please.” Says Coach Josten.
Judie eats her next words. Ray looks smug, like he won that round.

David doesn’t think that he won. He is really 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. I will return them to the
Court at 10:30.”

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 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, “3rd 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 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.

“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.

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.

She 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, all the way
down the hallway.

“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 didn’t mean that literally, though,
because he doesn’t wait for Ray to move, he 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 Josten 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 mom.

“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 blanket 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.

He reaches the exit to 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.

David falls asleep.

 Unpaid labour
Chapter Notes

Helloo! So, my creative rush is running out, I can feel it, so from this chapter on I'll
probably slow down with the uploading.
I'm a vicious creature that feeds on comments, so thank you all for feeding me. ✪ ω ✪
Byee

(Ah, Neil's POV)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

That smug grin on Melody’s face is about to make Neil go insane. Andrew is standing next to
him, in silence support, while Neil is sitting in his comfy chair. They have 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 prosthetics, 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.”

“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 bad 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. Green tea. He loves it. “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.”

“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.

“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 prosthetics.

“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 here 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 prosthetics.

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 was sleeping soundly in the car seat. She was bigger than Neil remembered, 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 ten 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 turn 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.” 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 like an entire other player on the Court.”

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
compered 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. This 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 calming 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 her
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 End Notes

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀
Where did Jiro go? muahahah who knows.
Meanwhile, Neil:

Also, we all know Andrew would never hurt a child, but he also does have knives in his
armbands, and that's not really child proof. So who's actually right here, uhn?
 Doctor Aaron
Chapter Summary

Chunky chapter (Andrew's POV)

Also, maybe I need to change the tags? I should put more warnings? I don't know, I'm
not very knowledgeable about AO3 etiquette. This chapter is kind of heavy. Do you
guys think the existing tags are enough for this kind of stuff?

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 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 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 eight 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?

Bee manages to take Ray on a stroll with her, happily chatting his mind away, in a matter of a
couple of minutes.

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 is 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’s
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’s voice is a whisper. 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 pretense. “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 had given 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.

The twins withdraw to the trees’ lane. 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 meant
rejection.

They will never understand each other, will they?

Andrew grabs his arm as Aaron turns to leave.

He nods.
 Taking your issues into you thirties
Chapter Notes

Sooooo, I didn't have a second to write all week, so today's chapter is a bit short. I
wanted to add a second part, but I think I'll need another week for that, and I didn't want
to leave you hanging for so long.

THANKS FOR ALL THE GREAT COMMENTS, YOU ALL ARE ANGELS (not
biblically accurate angels)

This chapter we're on Neil's POV.

“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 or 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.” He replies in Russian. “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 prosthetics, 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 prosthetics 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 mull 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 prosthetics 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.
 I'm not being paranoid
Chapter Notes

We are with Neil todaaaaaay. (☆▽☆)

Let's go, let's go, Neil's POV!

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 to the Eyrie, and Asahi, the very polite Japanese man
that had visited Neil at the hospital and had taken Jiro to the Court.

“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 unknowledges 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
close 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? 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 moment we’re on a real Court you’ll get red carded so fast
you’d be basically useless.”

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 genuinely wonders 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 has refused to, knowing she would have not kept her word. 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. 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 had 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. He’s expression is relentless.

Neil understands where Andrew’s coming from. Really. He wants to be the protector they’d
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.”
 Sometimes you just feel like stabbing someone
Chapter Notes

Another chapter for you, people! You have been so amazing, really... I don't need drugs
in my life.
Whenever I get an email from Ao3 and it's one of your guys commenting I get a boost of
that happy juice that runs my brain 24/7. I HAD to publish as soon as I could. (◔◡◔)

We are on David's little head this chapter. (Yey! David's POV)

I'm already working on the next one, and it'll be a big chunky boy, a little heavy, so be
prepared.

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 had disappeared together
until dinner time.

Later, when Jiro had come to the cafeteria, he had been weird. He hadn’t sat next to David
and when Theo had tried to approach him, he’d 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 was 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’d left the cafeteria then. Coach Neil had followed her, but David hadn’t heard what
they’d said to each other.
Now it’s breakfast time, and it’s like yesterday all over again. Jiro is eating alone, he hadn’t
looked 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 had 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 grownups
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 males!” Ray sounds shrill in his disbelief.

David knows why they were kissing each other, because his dad has 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 hadn’t moved an inch, like she’d known the hit wasn’t coming, or like
she’d known she couldn’t have done anything if it were.

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 nods absently 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.
 You don't even know what they do
Chapter Notes

Thank you for your overwhelming enthusiasm! 🎊

This chapter is HEAVYY (be warned). And of course, it's Andrew's POV
I could not do this without you <3
Also, thank you to everyone who's just enjoying this fic quietly without commenting, I
appreciate you hanging out here (✿◕‿◕✿)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 every 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. 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 on that corner of the
floor, 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 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.

“Malcolm, you stay right where you are.”

The girl rises an eyebrow. She looks at the teacher, then back at Andrew.

Andrew feels like smiling again when Mel gets up from her seat. Apparently, she hates the
teacher more than she hates Andrew.

The teacher 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. 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 heavily sedated.

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 End Notes

This is one of the things that have always bothered me about the original books (well,
more like Nora's extra content). They treat the possibility for a kid in foster care to meet
four unrelated pedophiles in a row as a thing that just... happens sometimes. And while
I'm not saying it's impossible, it's also outstandingly improbable. I think my personal
interpretation of it being a case of child trafficking puts a patch on it, at least partially.

P.S. as a little side note, I'd like to tell you all that I've written another aftg fanfiction
("Andrew's Foxhole Court") that's basically the original books from Andrew's pov, with
a deep dive on his therapy journey, memories and his huge crush on Neil. Since this fic
you're reading now is following canon, I'm taking some of the details I've made up for
"Andrew's Foxhole Court" and using them here. There's no need to read the other one to
understand this one, of course. It's just some little continuity if you like that sort of
thing.
 David has a bad day
Chapter Notes

Here's a big chunky boy of a chapter for you today.

We are on David's lovely head.

Guys, and gals and nonbinary blobs, I cannot thank you enough for your kind support
இ௰இ. You are all marvellous.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 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.

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.

“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 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’s 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 and pensive. 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 gest 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 are
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, as he is stacking the 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
to take care of David 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. “Five 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 five 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 like 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
twice a year, will be disappointed when David messes up in a real game.

At least he has 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 moving 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 could probably remember, 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.

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 has pushed him into.

Mr. Suji appears at 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 candies 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. “Candies? I love candies.”

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 End Notes

Uhm, so... I won't leave you hanging on this cliff for too long, I swear. I'll be back as
soon as I can.
 Two promises
Chapter Notes

Apologies for the delay! I've had... uh... a mental breakdown? You know how it is, life is
hard, friends are shitty and we've got no money.
BUT! There's also nice things in life. Like fics. Do you like fics? I sure do.
Here's one:

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 had 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 had 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 the promise of a liar.

“David, this isn’t a children’s play! 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 play. While David is now
in danger, 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 had 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.
 Phobias don't need to make sense
Chapter Summary

Hello, beautiful people (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:·ﾟ✧

We are on Neil's pov today, and next timeeee... (drum roll) it's JIRO'S pov! Hope you're
excited. My little biscuit deserves some rest.

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.

 David knows
Chapter Notes

Here we are, people! New chapter! Jiro's POV

✪ω✪
Have fun

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.
 Tiny steps forward
Chapter Notes

Soooooo.
It's been a month, uh?
So sorry for the delay, I've started my internship and I'm also studying for my exams.
Expect other delays until the end of November at least.
I meant to write a longer chapter than the one I'm uploading now, but I figured if I wait
to finish all of what I intended to write it might take me another month.
So here it is! (Andrew's POV)

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.” That 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.
 The coyote howls again
Chapter Notes

Soooooo, I didn't take a whole month this time! (almost lol)

Well, good news is: at the end of November I will be done with my exams, and by the

🎉🎉
end of December I will also be done with my internship so I will finally have more time
to write

Today's chapter is another Andrew's pov, hope you like it!

TW for child sexual abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 prosthetics 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 prosthetics.
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 out?”

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 in 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 had 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 humas 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… there’s always going to be a tiny part of me that will think I was the
reason, that 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 to speak to some other child.

Andrew is starting to love this routine. It feels comfortable.

Even Neil complaining under his breath 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, 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 today about it. 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 End Notes

Aaaand next chapter we'll go to Aaron's house! I'm super excited for the next chapter,
maybe I'll be able to upload it a little sooner this time.
 A gentle child
Chapter Notes

It has been kind of a long wait again, but this time I come to you with a big chonky
chapter, so you can't complain!
Andrew's pov!

Trigger warning for child abuse, mention of suicide and murder

I don't actually know what sort of information gets stored for children in foster care in
the US, so I'm taking some narrative freedom here

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 the first thing she has said to him since that day at the library. Andrew
really wants to slap her. She and Aaron are fucking made for each other. “That’s not what you
said last time.”

“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’d 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 has been about twenty minutes
since Aaron has 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 gigantic
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 we consider 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 concedes 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 have taken 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 to him 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 smile 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 to the ground 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 has 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
higherups 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
whish 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 had 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 now.
It's time to wake you for real now. 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.
I need you to find people that will remember about you when you die, Andrew. 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.
 I promise, Andrew
Chapter Notes

And here we aree! An anticipated Christmas present!

Thank you all for your wonderful words last chapter!

We are on Andrew's POV again, still at Aaron's house looking through the binder. Let's
see what they'll find!
The next chapter will be a lot more chill, I swear, and we'll be back on Neil's pov.

Trigger warnings for mention of sexual abuse and physical abuse.

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 what 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 had 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 his second 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 Adrew’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, 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 from the chair, Aaron jumps out of his own, grabs it from the backrest and
screams as he throws the thing to the other side of the room.

Aaron covers his mouth with a 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
up the stairs.

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 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 is 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.”

 A negative correlation
Chapter Notes

Hello people! Today we have a long, cozy chapter from Neil's pov.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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, for which Neil felt very sympathetic to. He didn’t want to go to bed without Andrew
either.

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.

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 two-hour car 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.

“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 for her. 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 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. He has found many good things, tiny bits of his past he had
forgotten or refused to unknowledge. 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 am 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 stadium’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 windows, 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, 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, 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 to pay attention, 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 why 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 Neil 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
Neil’s 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 least 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, please.”

Neil reunites with the others at the IKEA’s 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 out 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 unknowledge 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 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. It’s all 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 End Notes

Before I go, I was thinking about shortening the title to "The Hatchlings". I feel like
"The new Hatchlings of the Ravens" is a bit of a mouthful. What do you guys think?

Thank you for all the amazing comments you left on the last chapters! I hope to upload
the next one soon!
 The sound of laughter
Chapter Notes

Hellooo! Sorry for the long wait! In case anyone forgot, last chapter the gang bought a
bunch of stuff to renovate the kids' bedroom!

This chapter is from Ray's POV and it's set the day after the last chapter!

Enjoy!

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 were not going to throw everything away.

The night before the boy had been too scared to ask why they’ve left the toys in the bus. He’d
known 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 wasn’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 two only 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
were 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 in 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 changing 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 changing room everyone is quiet.

Cedric, already changed in his comfy clothes, 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 had 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 has gifted 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? 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 signs of streaks 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, 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 changing 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 hea 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.
 Pain
Chapter Notes

Hello, mis amigos. We are on Neil's pov today.

(These kids are going to play exy at some point, I swear)

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 had 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.”

And 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 in the
Hatchling’s stadium. 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 in 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 the 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.
“What?”

“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.

“Please, 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
heartrate 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 that 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. “The Exy Committee for the
little league made the lists of this year’s tournament public last night. 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 David’s birth certificate… how??

Kevin refused to publicly unknowledge 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 intensions 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 fuck 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 the Hulk, and
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.”
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