#i meant to post on xmas day but was too drunk lmao

[svragent]

This is my gift for @charlie-burton as part of the @tfcdiscord winter exchange. I hope you enjoy it!

Neil drops his keys on the table the moment he gets through the door, and staggers into the living room, leaving the lights off. It’s dark. He doesn’t care. He blindly stumbles to the sofa, collapsing onto the cushions, and gasps for breath. There’s a tingling in his muscles as his body struggles for oxygen, and his visions whites out as he fights the panic.

If only Andrew were here. Neil clutches at the back of his neck, trying to calm himself down, yet it only serves to make him more distressed. God he misses him. The way he can ground Neil with a single touch, and with a few well-placed words he can bring Neil back from the brink. He gasps for air as the aching in his chest increases, both from lack of oxygen and lack of Andrew.

There’s a nudge against his fingers. A wet nose sniffing at his fingers, then the tip of a tongue licking his hand. The brush of fur against his skin startles Neil into his next breath, and as Sir jumps down into his lap, purring and kneading his legs, he buries his other hand into her fur. It helps distract him from the missing presence at his side, and the day’s events; gradually his breathing steadies, and Sir is settled into his lap, warm on his thighs.

Neil scratches at her head. “Thank you.”

She gives a trill of satisfaction and licks again at his hand.

Neil sighs. He leans back into the sofa, eyes closing, and thinks of the disaster that was today. Practice had been tiring and stressful enough, but apparently something new had come to light about his father, another murder, and the press were having a field day. It seems like it will be another weekend toughing it out in the safety of their apartment, although having Andrew here would really help. But Neil has managed to last a full month without him so far, and should be able to manage another week before his boyfriend’s return. It’s not like he expects Andrew to drop everything just for him.

Andrew doesn’t call until a few hours later, and it’s obvious he’s just finished practice from the tired edge to his voice. Neil greets him warmly, and Andrew’s gruff voice softens a little.

“I just heard,” Andrew says. He pauses a moment. “How are you?”

Neil rubs at Sir’s ear with a knuckle. Between the softness of her fur and the sound of Andrew’s voice, his body finally relaxes, the tension easing out of his muscles in a single exhale. “I’m...coping,” he says.

Andrew is trying to decipher that, judging by the long silence that follows. The phone picks up the sound of his breath and, with his eyes closed, Neil can almost pretend that Andrew is in the room with him.

“You will phone me,” Andrew says eventually, “if you need anything.”

Neil makes a vague noise in assent.

“Neil.” His tone is uncharacteristically frustrated.

“I will.” It’s just a week, he can go without worrying Andrew more than he already has. It’s just a week. He won’t need to call.

Andrew gives in and changes the topic. He ends the call far too soon with another reminder to phone him if Neil needs him, and then the line goes dead. The abrupt cut to silence jolts him into real life, and as he opens his eyes to the dark emptiness of his apartment, Neil feels more alone than he had to start with.

He gives Sir a final pet and pushes his negative thoughts aside. It’s just a week.

It’s just a week.

A week is longer than Neil had assumed.

By Wednesday, he is already close to breaking point. He’s snapping at anyone who irritates him in practice, and as soon as he’s seen outside he’s swarmed with reporters all wanting his opinion on recent events. His phone calls to Andrew are the only light moments in an otherwise difficult week, and although Sir and King provide some semblance of comfort, they aren’t what he needs.

Despite all of this, the second panic attack catches him off guard.

From the moment he wakes up that day, Neil knows it will be tough. His skin crawls despite the vigorous scrub he gives his body in the shower, and his scars itch. Phantom hands slide over his cheek, and the ghost of a burn has him brushing fingers over the marks. Throughout practice he can feel the pressure building, the stress stretching him tight until eventually he snaps. He barely makes it through the door to their apartment before he’s collapsing against the wall, clutching at his throat, trying to keep breathing despite the iron grip that anxiety has on him. Throughout the blind panic he manages to locate his phone, hits the first number on speed-dial and is so thankful when his call is immediately picked up.

“Andrew,” he gasps. “I can’t- Andrew.”

“What happened,” Andrew says. Neil can barely hear him through the roaring in his ears.

“I-” He’s fighting to speak through breaths. His heart is racing a thousand miles an hour.

Luckily, Andrew seems to understand. He always understands; he seems to know exactly what Neil needs without even being told. His tone isn’t gentle when he speaks, and his words aren’t exactly registering, but Neil can read his emotions no matter what form, and the concern and care for him is evident. He focuses on Andrew’s breathing and tries to match him, until eventually his panicked gasping slows, and his numb arms are fading to a tingle.

“Sorry,” Neil says when he’s caught his breath. He’s shaking now, though sitting in the drafty hallway probably doesn’t help.

“Don’t apologise,” Andrew snaps out. There’s an audible sigh of exasperation on the other side of the line and Neil once again feels guilty for causing his boyfriend this much trouble. “Where are you right now?”

“Home.”

“Good. Go take a bath, order some takeout, try to relax.”

Neil hums, still trembling. A bath sounds good to his tired body.

“I’ll be there in a few hours. Don’t wait up for me.”

“What?” All the racing thoughts in his head go silent. “You can’t! You have practice-”

“You told me you were coping,” Andrew interrupts. “You are obviously not coping. My team will be fine without my presence for a few days.” A pause. “Five hours max. I’ll be there by twelve.” Andrew waits for Neil’s tired ‘ok’ before hanging up.

Neil takes a bath like instructed, letting his muscles relax under the warm water, and stays submerged until the water turns cold. He does stay up much later than he usually would though despite Andrew telling him not to, King curled at his side while Sir wanders around making enough noise to balance out the silence. Finally, after what seems like years, the lock clicks and a familiar figure crosses the threshold.

Neil is in the hallway before Andrew has even made it through the door. Andrew doesn't take off his shoes or coat. As soon as he spies Neil he opens his arms in invitation, a ‘yes’ in every inch of his body, and Neil falls into the embrace; the pain in his chest vanishes immediately, soothed by the feeling of right right right. There's a million words in the way Andrew holds him close, in the way Neil clutches him tight, and yet no words are close to what they feel in that moment.

Neil whispers his name, breathing in his scent (familiar, home). Andrew presses a kiss to his temple and pulls him in closer.

After an age they pull apart reluctantly. Andrew hands over Neil's coat after a moment and Neil gets the hint, tugging on his shoes. There's something nostalgic about this, a familiar ritual that they used to do in college whenever one of them needed some time to regroup their thoughts. Andrew drives them far away, slipping his hand into Neil's over the centre console, brushing a kiss against his scarred knuckles and Neil allows himself to get lost in the sensation of lips on skin, the rhythmic hum of the car, the dark night sky that engulfs him until all he feels is numb. Eventually the stars begin to show as they leave behind the city pollution, finally stopping in the middle of nowhere.

Andrew gets out and Neil follows his lead. Jumping onto the car hood, Andrew lights a cigarette and slides an arm around Neil's waist when he joins him. Neil leans into him, head resting against Andrew's shoulder. The stars burn bright above them.

Neil can't believe he's here. He watches his boyfriend rather than the sky, drinking in the sight of him, feeling more at ease than he has been over the past few weeks. Andrew catches him staring and flicks at his forehead, but ducks down to kiss him slowly, taking his time pulling Neil apart and piecing him back together. They pull back for air but Neil can't resist stealing one last kiss.

There's something about watching the stars that makes Neil feel so small. It helps him put things in perspective, reorganise his thoughts. His father is dead. Nathan cannot hurt him anymore. Nathan no longer matters. What does matter is his will to keep living, and the man who sits next to him, who has been and will continue to be there at the time he needs him most. Andrew Minyard is his world and, at least for now, Neil has him at his side.