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Neil was no stranger to nightmares.
Nightmares were a common enough occurrence that he knew what to do to help after. Listening to Andrew’s breathing, going for a run, lighting a cigarette on the roof. Letting Andrew hold him together on the worst of nights, when the only thing keeping him in his own skin is the firm but not painful grip at the nape of his neck and the steady beating of Andrew’s heart against his ear, pressed protectively into Andrew’s chest.
Neil woke frozen from his nightmares. He grew accustomed to sharing a bed with his mother, so his body learned to wake silently. The only tell being the tension throughout his small frame and the rapid, loud breathing as he awoke.
What was not normal was for Neil to wake up drowning.
It was a week before the rest of the Foxes would be returning, and the new freshman joining the line, and things that summer had been going well. Kevin wasn’t constantly hounding them to join him on the court, so he and Andrew had been able to sneak away and find quiet moments alone. They would go on drives, make out in the Maserati, curl up in bed on rainy days and just breathe together. It was everything Neil wanted for his break before taking on the role of vice captain.
But Neil’s luck never held, and the nightmares started.
It had been a good night for Andrew, a good enough night that they felt comfortable enough sleeping close together. They fell asleep with Andrew’s arm wrapped around Neil’s waist, palm flat to the scars on his abdomen, the only other point of contact being Andrew’s forehead pressed to the nape of Neil’s neck. It was warm and comforting; it was everything Neil wanted.
The rain started while they slept. It quickly became a downpour.
Neil dreamed in snatches and blurs. He caught only minor glimpses of memories. The black, black, black of the Nest, the red of blood on tile, the sound of bodies hitting the Exy court floor, the tang of blood in his mouth when Riko pressed the knife's edge into the corner of mouth. The clearest part of the dream was Jean. Jean’s whispered reassurances in French, his quiet but firm demands to get up and keep going, his steady hands stitching up his skin closed each and every time that Riko left them to piece themselves back together.
These were normal parts of his dreams about the Nest. Bits and starts of the horrors and tortures he endured at the hands of Riko and the crueler of the Ravens who loved to inflict pain and to suck up to Riko in whatever way he could.
Hazy around the edges were the disjointed pieces he could never connect. The feeling of Jean’s hands washing dye through his hair, after he was too far gone to fight back. After his memories started to wash down the drain alongside the dye that gave him his father’s natural looks.
Neil heard Jean’s voice, pleading, words he could not understand, and a tone so panicked it sounded out of place compared to every other he’d heard so far. He had only heard Jean angry, annoyed, quietly reassuring. Never so frightened.
“Riko, please,” Jean begged. Neil couldn’t hear the rest, just the word please, please, please reverberating in his skull.
Then, Neil heard the falling water.
He heard the water dripping on the floor all around him.
Felt the towel held tight over his mouth, Jean’s hands on his shoulders holding him in place. The pleas fall freely from his lips each time Neil’s eyes stay shut too long. It takes everything he has not to gasp for air. All it would do is drown him further, but the lack of air and the water on his face felt like he was drowning, and he was dying, and Jean was begging, and it was all too much. He couldn’t breathe and it hurt and–
Neil woke up and nearly fell off the side of the bed when he lurched upright. His breaths came in painful gasps, lungs wheezing as they tried to fill too fast on too shallow inhales. His skin felt damp, sweat plastering his shirt to his torso and it was too much, the sensation of his sweat sticking his clothes so tight made it harder and harder to breathe.
“Neil?” Andrew asked, mouth close to his ear and speaking firmly. Neil tried to answer, tried to say he was fine, but that was too much of a lie he was very not fine and he didn’t have the air to lie even if he wanted to. All he managed was a pained whine, trying and failing to form Andrew’s name or any words at all. “Neil, yes or no?”
Neil nods, a knot loosening in his chest at the first press of Andrew’s hands on his skin. His palm squeezes the nape of his neck and eases him down, but Neil feels the panic crawling back as he looks down and closes his eyes.
“Dark,” Neil choked out. “Too dark.”
Andrew climbed out of bed long enough to turn the light on and sat back down beside Neil.
A sharp crack of thunder nearly jerked Neil out of his own skin and the patter of rain pouring down sent his body trembling and his breathing haywire. He was panicking all over again, he couldn’t stop gasping, he heard the rain, and he’s choking, and he is drowning. Oh, fuck, he’s drowning.
“Abram,” Andrew said. He moved his hands to hold Neil’s face in his hands, faces close enough their noses nearly touch as he talks. “Abram, breathe. You are Neil Josten, number ten starting striker for the PSU Foxes, you are in Palmetto and you are with me, Andrew. I will let nothing hurt you. You are safe.”
Neil nodded in agreement but the panic didn't fade. Somehow, knowing who he is did nothing to assuage the fear. This usually shoves the fear aside, packs it away as Nathaniel, not Neil. Alex, not Neil. Chris, not Neil.
“Neil,” Andrew shook Neil’s face gently to bring his attention back to his own voice. “Count with me.”
“Eins, zwei, drei,” Andrew begins, waiting for Neil to join before he continues. “Vier, fünf, sechs…”
After many long minutes, Neil felt his breathing begin to steady. They made it to fifty before Neil could get enough oxygen in his head to think again, to be aware of his body and surroundings. His clothes feel too tight and too sticky, too similar to wet clothes that he was left in on the floor. He didn’t want Andrew to stop touching his face, never wanted those hands to leave his skin ever again. But the shirt had to go.
“Andrew, my shirt,” Neil gasped. He couldn’t explain further, but Andrew got the idea and helped slip it off over his head. He brought his hands up by Neil’s face, waiting for his muttered yes, yes, yes before he held his cheek gently in his palm and stroked his hair back off his forehead.
“What was it?” Andrew asked, tone calm but the panic in his eyes betraying his brave front. Neil closed his eyes and breathed deeply, but regretted it instantly. He shook his head to attempt to shake the bad out by force.
“Nightmare,” Neil said, though that was a major understatement. Dreams left him panicked, but they didn’t do that. Didn’t wake him thinking he was dying . Andrew didn’t question him, just looked into his eyes in a way that pushed for Neil to say more if he wanted to. “It was something about Christmas break.”
Andrew’s touch tightened briefly on Neil’s cheek but instantly loosened, not wanting to hurt Neil while he was already struggling. Andrew stroked soothing fingers through Neil’s hair, pushing it back off his forehead. He leaned close to Neil, close enough their forehead nearly touched.
“What happened?” Andrew asked hoarsely. Neil didn’t know what he was imagining, didn’t know if this was better or worse than what he was picturing.
“He,” Neil started, then faltered. The words failed him as he tried to piece together what exactly it was that Riko did to him. “He…he waterboarded me.”
Andrew went completely still against him. Not breathing, not moving his hands, the only sound Neil’s unsteady breaths and his heartbeat echoing in his ears. Neil heard Andrew take in a slow, deep breath and holding it. He went through a few breathing exercises to calm himself down.
Once Andrew had his bearings back, he cradled Neil’s face in both hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
“Yes or no? To putting your head on my shoulder,” Andrew asked. Neil sighed in relief and had barely said yes before Andrew was pulling him closer and nearly on top of himself. Neil pressed his ear just below Andrew’s collarbone, sighing contentedly once he heard the steady drum beat of Andrew’s heart. Andrew rubbed the knuckles of his left hand down Neil’s side, right hand hauling Neil closer until he could run his palm over his thigh to his hip and back again.
“Riko had Jean hold me down so he could waterboard me. That’s when Jean dyed my hair, it was after I blacked the memories out. I only vaguely remembered it happening at all, until now,” Neil whispered. The rain drummed on the roof of the house, too much like a shower on tile. Neil shivered uncomfortably.
“I’ve got you,” Andrew hummed directly into Neil’s ear. He pressed his cheek firmly into Neil’s, letting his voice vibrate through his bones and into Neil. Everything outside of their room fell away as he sunk deeper and deeper into Andrew.
“I barely remember it, but it terrified me,” Neil said, feeling braver by the minute by Andrew’s steady presence. “It’s only pieces of memories and I don’t know if that’s better or worse. It feels like a landmine and one wrong step will make it all flood back to me.”
Neil cringed at his own phrasing, but Andrew didn’t comment.
“He is dead,” Andrew said simply. It shouldn’t have been reassurance, something so plainly spoken at night should not comfort the way that it did. “Everyone who has hurt you is dead, and I won’t let anyone else touch you.”
“We don’t have a deal anymore,” Neil said, knowing in his heart that Andrew doesn’t need a deal to protect him, as Neil does not need a deal to protect him in return.
“Shut up,” Andrew said and squeezed Neil’s thigh hard in admonishment. Neil half heartedly batted his hand but the shock of it helped lighten the storm clouds in his mind. “Fuck a deal. You gave your back to me. All that changed is there aren't any conditions to it anymore.”
“And I have your back too,” Neil agreed. Andrew grunted in response, not really agreement but not denial either. Neil laughed softly, brushing a featherlight kiss to Andrew’s jaw, cherishing the barely there sigh at the contact.
“Sleep?” Andrew asked after a moment. The rain had started to lighten, the sound barely audible in their room now. But Neil didn’t want to risk falling into the same dream, so he shook his head. “Kitchen?”
“Kitchen.” Neil agreed. He pulled back enough that he could raise an eyebrow at Andrew. “Hot chocolate?”
Andrew rolled his eyes emphatically, gently nudging Neil away. He didn’t move him far, just enough that he could reach out and cup Neil’s face between his palms. Neil grinned at him, making Andrew scowl.
“You can have one of your dumb fruity teas.” Andrew squeezed his hands together against Neil’s face until he started laughing. “With no honey since you’re a disgusting heathen.”
“You still kiss me though,” Neil teased. Andrew’s stare was heavy as he watched Neil in unamused silence.
“Yes or no?” Andrew asked. He leaned forward enough to hold Neil’s chin lightly.
“Yes,” Neil breathed, already leaning in to meet Andrew. The kiss was soft and chaste, only lasting a moment before Andrew was pulling away. Neil followed him off the bed, pausing before exiting the room when he remembered he was shirtless. He glanced around to find a shirt, not wanting to put his old one back on, and was promptly smacked in the face with a hoodie.
“Put that on,” Andrew demanded. Neil did as he said without hesitation and sighed in relief. It was Andrew’s, one that was a bit big on Andrew and thus was very loose on Neil. It was the one Andrew had been wearing before they went to bed and it felt like Neil was back in Andrew’s arms.
Neil hadn’t realized he’d stopped moving until Andrew grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out the door, muttering a quiet, idiot under his breath as he went.
The kitchen was dark when they went downstairs, the living room lamp was still on. Kevin often didn’t sleep with the lights off, another consequence from the Nest under their roof. Kevin was fast asleep, dead to the world and unlikely to wake to anything that isn’t the smell of coffee.
Still, they kept quiet as they entered the kitchen. Andrew used a kettle to boil water and leaned back against the counter. Neil fidgeted with the sleeves of his hoodie until Andrew held his arms out in offer. He went easily, leaning down to rest his head on Andrew’s shoulder while Andrew wrapped his arms around Neil’s waist.
They didn’t speak, the only sounds in the room were the kettle heating and Kevin’s loud snoring in the living room. It was an oddly soothing sound after living with the man for a few months. It was not annoying, though Neil knew he’d feel differently once they were back to sharing a room full time.
Andrew had to release Neil to make their drinks and Neil only pouted a little. It turned to a shy smile when Andrew gave him a light kiss on the cheek before separating entirely.
The mug of tea was comfortingly warm in his hands, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually drink it. The idea of drinking anything made his stomach roil with anxiety, but the heat and smell was soothing enough for him. He leaned his hip against the counter and watched Andrew make his abomination. He added in a handful of mini marshmallows and took out a literal bottle of caramel drizzle to top it off.
“Gross.” Neil scrunched up his nose in distaste but didn’t object when Andrew glared and shoved a few marshmallows into his mouth. They were sweet on his tongue, a flavor he’s grown accustomed to tasting on Andrew’s lips. Andrew huffed, not quite a laugh, at whatever he saw in Neil’s expression.
“You’re embarrassing,” Andrew said, but he sounded almost fond. “Bed?”
“Bed,” Neil agreed. They made it up the stairs carefully with their mugs to avoid spills or waking Nicky and Aaron, but they managed it without incident. Andrew settled back against the pillows and waited for Neil to do the same. Andrew sipped his hot chocolate slowly while Neil let the tea cool in his hands, relishing the peach scent in his nose.
After, Andrew coaxed Neil into lying down again with his head resting on Andrew’s chest. Neil tucked his arms close to his body between their chests, lightly gripping onto Andrew’s shirt. He practically melts into the bed when Andrew runs his fingers through his hair, scratching lightly against his scalp and trailing down to the nape of his neck and back again. His other hand rubs Neil’s arm from shoulder to wrist, linking their fingers against Andrew’s sternum.
“You should try to sleep,” Andrew whispered into Neil’s hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
“Do you need me to move?” Neil asked, because sleeping this close was very new, not something they could often get away with. He loved the feeling of Andrew hand in his, his fingers in his hair, and his chest underneath him, but he’d move away without complaint if Andrew needed him to.
“No, stay,” Andrew said, hands holding tighter onto him momentarily. Neil nodded against Andrew and sighed contentedly. “Just stay here.”
The with me wasn’t spoken, but Neil heard it loud and clear in the tight embrace and the open trust to sleep so close. Neil didn’t feel that he could sleep, but the rain had stopped and Andrew was so, so warm and he was here. And Riko was dead and could never hurt him again. He was the safest he could ever be.
“I think I’m going to call Jean,” Neil mumbled sleepily, eyes dropping shut without his permission.
“Sleep first, call later,” Andrew said in acknowledgment.
Neil hummed sleepy agreement and drifted off into a welcoming, dreamless sleep.