the most important daily reminder you’ll see today:
andrew joseph minyard(palmetto state foxes, goalkeeper, #3), who repeatedly stated he doesn’t care about exy, in a match against the ravens (known as the number 1 exy team in the nation) missed only 13 shots out of 150 attempted, while going through a serious withdrawal.
I can’t help but think a lot about Neil and Andrew just doing domestic, mundane, couple things.
Neil and Andrew at the grocery store. Neil noticing Andrew’s stocking up on all the sugary foods and beverages he can get his hands on, so he wanders off to the veggies and health food aisles to make sure Andrew balances his diet. “No more ice cream breakfasts, okay?” Neil says, when Andrew just shoots him a blank stare, Neil shrugs. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m just trying to keep your inevitable risk of diabetes at bay.” Andrew barely blinks. “You’re diabetes,” he mumbles. At this, Neil breaks into a small, slightly teasing smile, “Besides, I want you to cook for me.” “And I want you to shut up,” Andrew replies, dryly. “I guess neither of us are going to get what we want.” Despite this, slowly, steadily, Andrew does start improving his eating habits, and when he realizes that Neil is a disaster with an electric lighter after he almost burns down their kitchen twice, Andrew begins cooking for him on the regular. Neil always ends up staring at him while he cooks, and Andrew pretends like it doesn’t affect him, like it doesn’t make him hyperaware of his every move. Bee suggests new recipes to him every weekend, and Andrew begins to cook so surprisingly often that Neil would never dare say it aloud, but he swears that Andrew might actually be enjoying it.
Neil gives Andrew a shoulder massage on the really bad days and distracts his mind with talks of the latest additions to the Fox lineup and how he thinks they need to up their game if they want to succeed. This is new. This feels new. Andrew is not used to this sort of thing and has trouble at first, tensing up against Neil’s touch almost immediately, and so Neil knows to be extra careful. This is alien territory for both of them because Neil has never known how to be gentle and Andrew has never known gentleness, but it turns out that Neil’s really good with his hands. Eventually, Andrew leans his head back against Neil’s stomach as he kneads the tension out of his muscles and just lets go. It’s difficult at first, because the last time Andrew allowed himself to be this defenseless, this bodily loose and relaxed… No. This was different. This was Neil. Neil would cross himself out a thousand times over at even the mere idea of hurting him. He was okay. He was… He was safe. After giving him a massage, Neil leans in to kiss Andrew’s neck, but before he has the chance, Andrew’s already flipped him over and straddling him, “Yes or no?” he mumbles gruffly, but Neil’s already choking out a hoarse, breathless fuckyes as Andrew runs his hands up his arms and entwines their fingers before entrapping him under his body with a vehement, sealing kiss that leaves them both gasping for breath.
Andrew falling ill with the flu and insisting that he doesn’t get sick, even as he’s coughing up his lungs and running a high fever. Neil doesn’t buy into his bullshit for one second and insists on dragging him to the doctor’s office. That’s when Andrew quietly admits his loathing of doctors, stemming from a general distrust of society and never having been to one before. Whenever he got sick before, he would just take care of it on his own. And then he had Abby. Neil insists that despite Abby’s qualifications, Andrew needed to go see a real doctor. Neil successfully wears him down and they end up visiting the doctor together. In the waiting room, Andrew is crushing Neil’s hand so tight Neil knows it’s going to leave a bruise. Neil doesn’t care. He managed to convince Andrew to make the trip. That’s all that matters.
Whenever the Foxes come to visit them, Andrew cleans out the entire house. Makes sure every surface is scrubbed and not a thing is out of place. He makes them all take their shoes off at the doorstep and warns Nicky he’ll make him bleed if he hoists his legs up on the recently polished coffee table.
Andrew and Neil working out together, and Neil once again, being flabbergasted by just how much weight this boy can lift. It feels like some strange metaphor for all of Neil’s baggage he took at face value and handled like a rock. “You’re staring again,” Andrew points out, sitting there in a muscle t-shirt, his skin slick with sweat, his blond tufts pulled back by a thin black bandana, performing a 180kg deadlift like it’s practically nothing. “Yeah,” Neil manages. “Get used to it already.”
The two of them getting away for the weekend from everyone and everything. Driving, driving, halting at terribly lit gas stations in the middle of nowhere to buy cigarettes and soda, star-gazing on the roof of the Maserati, Andrew knowing every constellation by heart, Neil gaping at him in quiet, captivated awe. The two of them falling asleep in dingy motel rooms after making messy love. The comfort in the little things and just purely enjoying one another’s existence, one another’s presence. Neil’s head on Andrew’s shoulder, Andrew pressing a kiss to the pulse point of Neil’s throat, Neil fiddling with Andrew’s hair, Andrew shivering when Neil bites promises into his neck, Andrew’s hands underneath Neil’s shirt, killing his scars with his kisses.