Chapter Text
You are allowed
to reintroduce yourself
to the universe
as you heal
the pieces
you put back together;
transformed,
have much to reveal.
“…coming to you live, where we have breaking news regarding Exy superstar, Kevin Day! In a shocking move, sources tell us that Day is taking a leave of absence from the spotlight…”
“…even his coach and teammates have no idea where the star striker has gone. A simple statement was released to the public in response to countless inquiries, speaking to each player’s right to privacy during the off-season…”
“…Exy fans and players alike are concerned about this sudden disappearance. There are thousands of well-wishes and heartfelt messages on Kevin Day’s social media pages, but the striker has yet to respond to any of them…”
“…now have reached three months into the self-appointed exile of Kevin Day from the public spotlight, and he has yet to be spotted. Close sources tell us that the leave of absence was both abrupt and unplanned. Concerns whether his newfound captainship of the USA Court team may be too much for the young star are currently spreading…”
“…reports that fans have spotted the Exy star in New Zealand turned out to be unfounded. Extensive searching turned up with a local lookalike who apologized for the confusion and unintentional deception. Four months into Kevin Day’s sabbatical, and the trail has gone cold…”
“…leave folks around the world wondering, how did the Exy silver-medalist manage to vanish off the face of the earth? Is foul play involved? Are we all just waiting for a man who will never return? What would the absence of Kevin Day do to the future of Exy...”
“…early this morning, where fans were overjoyed to see the first glimpse of Kevin Day in months!”
“That’s right, Devin,” Joanna smiles. “Day tried to make a sneaky entrance back to his father’s stomping grounds via the Greenville-Spartanburg airport in the wee hours of the night, but we managed to grab a few quick photos of him exiting the terminal below.”
“Baseball cap, sunglasses, dark sweats,” Devin laughs. “Oh yeah, he’s got the standard celebrity disguise down pat.”
“Our favorite photo might be this cute reunion he had with the current coach of the Palmetto State University team and Kevin’s father, David Wymack, outside his truck,” Joanna continues. “The two hugged before jumping in the vehicle and heading back to the university.”
“A little father-son bonding moment - isn’t that sweet?” Devin posits. “While Kevin catches back up with his father, the Exy world breathes a sigh of relief for their Queen has returned once more.”
“But is this still the same Queen we know and love?” Joanna posits. “Where has the son of Kayleigh been all this time? Is this the result of too much time in the spotlight? Are these the first signs of an athletic superstar crumbling under overwhelming pressure? Or is this a simple case of a well-earned vacation away from the public eye?”
She smiles at the camera. “Rest assured, folks, if we find out, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Show off.”
Kevin pauses for only a fraction of a second before he continues taking his jersey off.
“Shut up, Johnson,” he hears Murphy hiss from a few lockers away.
“What? He always acts all high and mighty, like he’s the best-”
“That’s because he is the best,” Sanjay corrects him wryly. “He’s the number one striker in the country, Ryan. Or did you forget?”
“As if anyone could with the way the media goes on about it,” Becker snorts from the corner.
Johnson’s face flushes. “Well, he doesn’t have to act like it. Fucker. Just because he’s Kayleigh’s son, he acts like he’s goddamn royalty. Even getting that stupid queen tattoo on his face-”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard it all before, man. Just give it a rest,” Karloff rolls his eyes, towel wrapped around his waist and water still dripping from his hair as he walks back in from the showers. “You’ve been saying the same thing for two years now.”
“Yeah, and I’m gonna keep on saying it until someone listens!”
“Jesus fuck, dude – the man is right there!”
“So what? The asshole’s ego is so big, I’d be surprised if anything penetrates through it.” The striker sneers at Kevin. “I bet the last five months were all a publicity stunt, just so he could keep his face in the limelight. What? Did you get bored of the private jets and island vacations and scores of women throwing themselves at you, Day?”
Kevin takes several deep, calming breaths – just like his therapist, Maggie, taught him. He carefully zips up his duffel bag before calmly closing his locker door.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought!” He hears Johnson say behind him. “Coward!”
Kevin ignores him. He silently walks out of the locker room at a normal pace.
No one stops him.
He steps out into the hallway and zips his jacket all the way up to his chin. The October air is cool, made even more so by how exhausted he is from practice, topped off by a hot shower. He wants nothing more than to go home and simply crawl into bed.
But as he makes his way toward the parking lot, his coach stops him. “Day! Got a minute?”
Kevin pauses. He takes another large breath in before plastering an easy smile on his face as he turns back. “Sure, Coach. What’s up?”
Stevens, head coach of the Nashville Rattlesnakes, waves him inside his office.
Kevin stifles a sigh. He knows what’s coming.
Walking into his coach’s office is like entering a private eye’s headquarters from the twenties. It’s full of leather, black and white photos, and loose-leaf paper stacks scattered all over. Hell, it even smells like one due to all the cigar smoke still lingering in the air. All it needs is a blonde femme fatale to come sashaying through the door.
Instead, though, it’s Kevin who takes the chair Stevens offers him. His coach, in turn, sinks into his leather armchair silently, the furniture squeaking and protesting as he casually leans back.
He stares openly at Kevin.
Kevin returns the look and fights the urge to squirm. He feels like some greasy, small-time low-life who’s come to squeal on his cruel kingpin. (Oh, the irony.)
He holds out as long as he can, but his coach is a patient man. After several more moments of silence, Kevin finally loses the battle, shifting awkwardly under Stevens’ too-knowing gaze.
That’s when his coach strikes. “Son, how are you?”
Not your son, Kevin thinks immediately. There is only one coach who has earned that privilege.
Then he winces and tries to backtrack mentally. Stevens isn’t a bad sort – he’d reminded Kevin of Wymack, actually, in the beginning. Maybe that was one of the reasons he’d drifted toward this team to begin with, after his less-than-stellar experience with the Vikings.
He can’t remember anymore.
Kevin shrugs. “Fine, coach,” he says with a straight face, forcing Neil’s annoying and insistent face out of his mind at the trigger.
Because he is fine, unlike Neil. Things are just that – fine. Okay. Hunky-dory, peachy-keen. Whatever anyone wants to call it.
Kevin is here, and he’s existing, and everything is fine.
Stevens’ brow furrows. “Sure about that, Day?”
Yes, he’s sure. He’s had to be, after all. He still remembers all too well the last time they had one of these “heart-to-hearts.”
But apparently, his confidence is not catching. His coach frowns at him before continuing, “Because this guy,” and here he breaks eye contact with Kevin to unearth a tablet from who knows where, “seems like an entirely different person to the one sitting in front of me now.”
Kevin looks down at the picture and knows that his face instantly softens. Because the man on the screen is him all right – but in his Court uniform.
It’s from the last time they went to the Olympics. Where Kevin had finally made the team through his own hard work and ambition. After years and years of working toward it, he finally felt worthy of that uniform.
It was the Olympics where Dom was still captain. Where Kevin had traveled to Russia and faced off against the best of the best. Where his blood had hummed and sang at the challenge, talent rising to match the caliber around him. It’s where he’d felt like an equal, his colleagues listening to him and the team collaborating to give it their all.
But that was Court.
Back in the States, on his regular professional team, he’s learned to keep his mouth shut.
For the last three years, Kevin’s slowly grown more silent, keeping all tips and suggestions for his teammates to himself in favor of “improving team dynamics.” It was the not-so-subtle hint from his coach to cool it – that someone on the bench had the owner’s ear and the woman didn't like what she was being told. As the team’s PR manager once said in a saccharine-sweet tone, it didn’t matter that Kevin was the most-wanted striker in the business. If he couldn’t get along with others, couldn’t mesh with his team, then he was worthless.
And Kevin can’t afford to be worthless. Not if he wants to live, anyway.
So, though it’s felt like he’s slowly dying inside, Kevin has gotten quieter over the years. He’s worked on noting social cues, learning when to shut up and when to continue. And he’s worked extra hard on being more positive, giving his teammates compliments that he could live with, that weren’t lies.
He’d hoped it would all be worth it. That maybe he’d finally start to “gel” with his team and be more in sync. Maybe, somewhere along the way, he’d find a place among them.
His coach’s face now tells him otherwise.
“I know you’re trying, Day,” he tells him, and Kevin sees the note of sympathy in his eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t seen a real improvement, either. But this guy?” He taps the screen with his free hand. “This guy is the one I want to see. This is the one we hired. Where is this guy now?”
Locked away. Buried deep because you don’t want to hear him. You don’t want to listen. No one does.
He knows this isn’t an appropriate answer. But he doesn’t have a better one – and he’s tired. (So tired). So Kevin shrugs, running with a partial truth as he offers up a half-smile. “Just tired, coach. Haven’t been getting good sleep lately, I think.”
Stevens stares at him for a couple of beats in silence. Then he grins, throwing his head back and laughing like Kevin just said something outrageously funny.
Kevin frowns.
“Shit! You got me, kid. I never even considered – ha!” He shakes his head. “You goddamn rascal! So that’s it, huh? Having to beat ‘em off with a stick?” Stevens slams his hand down onto the top of the desk in excitement. “Christ! To be a kid again – especially in your day and age, you know?”
Kevin’s brow furrows. Then his coach’s meaning seeps through.
He carefully wipes his face of all emotions.
“Well, don’t let the girls wear you out too much, eh?” Stevens winks at him. “I mean, being the most famous Exy player on the planet has its perks, but we need your A-game out on the court too, now, you hear?”
“Right,” Kevin drags his media smile up from the depths, all teeth and charm. Something burns dangerously in his chest, but he doesn’t dare give it a name. “You got it, coach,” he winks back obnoxiously as he stands up, knowing the part he’s been given to play.
“Oh, go on, get out of here, you devil! Ha!” Stevens laughs to himself as he shoves Kevin out the door. “Have fun tonight – but not too much fun, got it? I don’t want to see your face in any of those gossip rags! Jesus, Fernanda will have both of our heads otherwise. Keep that wild life close to your chest, son!”
Kevin waves a hand, keeping the smile on his face until he’s all the way out in the parking lot. Then he lets it drop the moment he closes his car door.
He sits there for a moment, staring into space. Then he heaves a heavy sigh.
He starts the engine, puts his foot on the gas, and slowly cruises out of the stadium gate.
When he gets home, he tosses his keys into the bowl by the door before neatly slipping his shoes off. The apartment is dark, so he switches on the lights. A quick scan shows him nothing is out of place, the room clean as a whistle. Just like he left it.
As he walks toward the kitchen, he hears a small thump before tiny footsteps come padding down the hall. Finally, a real smile lights up his face.
“Hi girl,” he coos as his small cat, Coco, draws near. “Did you miss me?”
She butts her head against his hand once or twice before heading toward the couch.
It had taken a while to tell but Coco had grown into a gorgeous Bengal cat with light green eyes not unlike his own. She’d arrived at the shelter a sickly, flea-ridden thing that was scared, shaking, and vicious to whoever came into the room. They’d warned him that she was likely to be distant and unaffectionate.
He wishes they could see her now.
Coco likes to vary between sleeping on his bed all day and whipping through the elaborate cat tunnel system he created for her. But once he’s home, she never leaves his side. She yowls and purrs, arching toward his pets and scratches like she’ll die without them.
“Touch-starved” Maggie had called her. Kevin doesn’t care – he’s simply grateful for her suggestion to get Coco in the first place. Nowadays, he can’t imagine what he’d do without her.
After refilling her food bowl, he wanders over to the fridge and pulls out one of the pre-cooked meals his nutritionist gave him. He heats it up in the microwave before checking his phone.
No new messages or calls await him.
He lets out a small sigh before the microwave beeps. Then he grabs a fork and heads toward the coffee table.
“What do you want to watch tonight?" He asks Coco, grabbing the TV remote. “Jean and Jeremy’s last game? Or continue the series on Ancient Egypt?”
Coco blinks at him.
“Yeah, I know we watched their game twice last night, but their next one isn’t until Friday!”
Coco lets out a small mew.
“Fine, we’ll learn more about Egypt,” Kevin pouts as he turns to the channel and tosses the remote aside. “But tomorrow we’re definitely watching Andrew and Neil’s game.”
Coco curls up into a ball and rests her head on her paws, apparently satisfied. So Kevin leans back into the comfort of his couch and settles in to enjoy the rest of his “wild” night.
The phone call surprises all of them.
The salsa-reggae tune blares happily from Abby’s hip as she blushes, fighting to stand up and quickly answer it. “Hello? Hello? Oh! Yes, this is her. Hold on, just a second...”
She moves to the kitchen, leaving Wymack alone with Kevin and the mountainous pile of food she fixed for them.
“So,” his father asks in the silence after she’s gone. “How are Andrew and Neil?”
Kevin shrugs. “Good. Visiting Aaron and Katelyn this weekend.”
“Ah,” Wymack nods, slathering a roll with butter and drizzling it with honey. “The annual ‘Birthday Celebration Disguised as Thanksgiving’ weekend?”
“Yep,” Kevin agrees. He spears a green bean delicately with his fork. “Only fooling themselves, honestly. But you know how they are.”
“Mm,” Wymack agrees, shoving the roll in his mouth. He stuffs one cheek like a chipmunk, chewing as he asks, “But good otherwise? Still liking the Dragons?”
Kevin snorts. “Tolerating is probably the better word but…yes. The team seems to suit them. Think it’s the whole ‘New Yorker-don’t-give-a-shit’ attitude – Neil and Andrew fit right in.”
“Good,” Wymack nods. He swallows then asks, “And you?”
There’s a little jolt in the bottom of Kevin’s stomach that he quickly smothers. “Yeah? What about me?”
“Things still good with your team?”
Kevin thinks about the conversation with his coach the other day. Then he looks down, carving a slice of turkey off the bone on his plate before answering neutrally, “Yep. They’re good.”
Wymack’s eyes narrow. “Good?”
Kevin shrugs before shoving the piece of meat into his mouth. “Yep.”
“That’s it?”
Kevin looks up at him with narrowed eyes. “What more is there?”
“Oh, I don’t know, son,” Wymack deadpans. “Perhaps a thirty-two-page dissertation on how you barely won by a two-point gap last game against the Hawks, who are in the bottom ten in the league, and how you’re surrounded by a bunch of idiots?”
There’s only the slightest waver in Kevin’s hand as he sets the fork back down on the table. “Ah, so you want me to repeat what happened when we played Detroit, hm? Why didn’t you just say so? Give me a second-”
“Okay, okay, you got me,” Wymack lifts his hands in false surrender. “Just wanted to make sure the Kevin I know is still in there.”
“Of course,” Kevin snorts. “Their incompetence simply doesn’t bear repeating.”
“That’s the spirit, son.”
Wymack gets up to grab himself another beer, and the arrogance slides off Kevin’s face the moment his father leaves the room. He pushes a hand through his hair, shoulders slumping, before he immediately pops back up as Wymack re-enters. The two nod at each other as the bigger man sits down.
Then they fall into silence.
After a few minutes of this, Wymack clears his throat. “So…how are…other things?”
Kevin cringes internally at the awkward statement. “They’re, uh, good. Things are…yeah, they’re okay.”
Both father and son stare at one another before turning back to their plates.
A rush of shame twists in Kevin’s stomach as he scrabbles for something to say. For maybe the last year, he’s noticed this – a lull in the conversation that always occurs. An awkward point that Abby and his dad always reach when there’s nothing more to say.
Once they’ve exhausted talking about Exy, it’s like there’s nothing left to discuss.
Kevin has never talked about his dating life, after all. After a while of them asking, and him never having an answer, they’d simply stopped. They always ask about the other Foxes – as if Abby and Wymack never talk to them – but outside of Jean and Jeremy, there’s really no one else in Kevin’s life.
Kevin moves a few more peas around on his plate. His shoulders sink.
He remembers a time when it had felt natural to come over and talk to them about his classes, his professors, or even people at the gym. When he could complain about his roommates and the two of them would just laugh. It felt like he had so much more to say back then.
Now, it feels weird to try and explain the stupid, little things that happen to him throughout the day. They’re too…insignificant. Because there’s a huge difference between seeing someone every day versus seeing them sporadically. You don’t bother getting into the details. It just takes too long to explain.
It’s like when you’ve been dealing with an annoying classmate. Someone you’re forced to partner with, who completely upsets the dynamic of your group. You complain when you go home to your family or your partner about how they don’t do their fair share of the work. About how passive-aggressive they were when you politely told them to buck up, or how they’re constantly trying to sabotage your assignments now or talk over you in retribution. The person living with you suffers right along with you, understanding how much it frustrates you and how aggravated you are about the whole thing.
And then, one day, the person transfers out of the class.
It will only make sense to those who have been part of the entire saga what a win this is. How much relief it gives you now to study in peace, to not have this constant antagonism occurring in your everyday life.
But then you try explaining that same feeling to a neighbor or a distant uncle and the whole thing falls apart. The complaint seems…trivial. Petty. Not worth getting upset over.
It’s a form of intimacy, Kevin’s realized. Something casual and domestic in your everyday life. Something built with trust, where you have a safe, non-judgmental space to go to, and the promise of confidence in the information you spill.
It’s something Kevin doesn’t have.
So it feels hard now to try and explain how he’s been arguing with the landlord for three months that his next-door neighbor keeps taking his parking space – when theirs is just around the corner. How he hasn’t been invited out to the bar the last two times his pro team informally got together. How they did a whole charity event without him. How they’ve removed his favorite tea from the local shop he loves down the road.
How sometimes he’s so lonely at night he curls into a ball on his bed and squeezes a pillow tight to try and stop the feeling from leaking out of his chest.
He looks up and watches his father check his phone, face frowning as he types something. Then Kevin stares back down at his plate.
It doesn’t help, the stunt he pulled this past summer. (If you could call disappearing for five months a simple “stunt.”) Despite his best intentions, it has only served to worry them more.
But Kevin had to – everything had felt like too much. He felt smothered and too big for his skin, trapped by other people’s perception of him. Of the role he’s always played.
He was stuck and couldn’t get out.
He’d needed time to breathe. To reset and rethink some things. To express his freedom in a way he’s never done before. To rebel against the image always expected of him.
Because it feels like a mold that no longer fits. Something too small and confining for him to pour himself back into. He’s outgrown his image, outgrown his apartment. (Outgrown his life.) And yet people still insist on looking at him the same way – like that sheltered, frightened, and naïve boy who fell out of the Nest so many years ago.
Does it ever go away? He wonders. This feeling of inadequacy? The fear that you’re still unaware of what others around you already know?
He just wants to be normal. For people not to trivialize or pity the life he’s built for himself so far. To feel proud of who he is and what he’s accomplished and how far he’s come.
Is that too much to ask?
“We won!” Abby screeches, suddenly running back into the room.
Kevin and Wymack blink at her.
“What?” Wymack asks gruffly.
“We won, David! Remember that contest at the grocery store? The one I put our names in for a free cruise? We won it!” She tells him enthusiastically, her face bright.
Wymack blinks at her again. “Seriously?”
“Yes! And they’re saying – wait, what did you just say?” Abby frowns, face falling. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, then – that’s not going to work for us.”
“What?” Wymack barks. “Why? Why would you-”
“We have plans for Christmas, I’m afraid, that just can’t be moved,” Abby carefully enunciates, giving Wymack a meaningful look. “So you’ll have to choose someone else.”
“Oh,” Wymack says before he relaxes back into his chair, unbothered. “Kevin, pass me another roll, will you?”
Kevin’s brow furrows as he stares between his dad and stepmother. Abby is still talking to the person on the phone and Wymack’s heavily focused on adding more mashed potatoes to his plate. Neither of them will meet Kevin’s gaze.
And in a heartbeat, everything clicks for him.
The cruise package they won must be a free trip for two – and he normally visits them for Christmas.
His head snaps up. “Tell them you’ll take them.”
Abby’s guilty gaze shoots over to meet his own. “No, Kevin, honey, it’s fine-”
“Of course we’re not going to leave you on your own for Christmas,” Wymack cuts in, his voice gravelly and low with indignation.
“No, I mean it,” Kevin tells them stubbornly. “Christmas is just a day or two. I can manage.”
“It’s not about managing, dear, it’s about wanting to be with you,” Abby tells him.
“And you two deserve the break. Enjoy it,” Kevin tells them honestly. “I don’t want to be the reason for holding you back. I’m an adult – it’s not a big deal.” He waves a hand haphazardly at the phone. “Go on, tell them you’ll take them.”
“Kevin,” Wymack says in warning.
“Dad,” he replies, exasperated. “I mean it. I can find someone else to visit for the holiday. Just take the goddamn cruise and enjoy yourselves or else I’m not going to show up for Christmas on purpose.”
Wymack glares at him. Kevin glares back.
Finally, Wymack sighs. He gives a nod back at Abby, who immediately pounces on the tickets, running to the kitchen again to jot down the details.
“You could come with us?” he offers next.
Kevin snorts. “And be the third wheel on my parent’s free vacation? No, thank you. I can find easier ways to be awkward and pathetic on my own.”
“Ask the Foxes,” Wymack orders, as if they’re still all on the same team. “I’m sure you can tag along with at least one of those assholes.”
“Exactly,” Kevin agrees.
But inside his head, he falters. If he remembers right, this year it’s Andrew and Aaron’s turn to go to Germany to visit Nicky, and he doesn’t want to mess with that whole family dynamic. (He mooched on them enough in college).
It’s going to be the first Christmas Dan and Matt have with their new baby, and they have a whole host of family and friends that will be visiting. It’ll be too much for him to impose on them as well.
Allison has some whirlwind fashion tour in Europe, and Renee signed up for another Peace Corp mission in God-knows-where. Robin is also meeting the in-laws for the first time this holiday season.
So…looks like he’ll be doing Christmas on his own this year then.
No big deal. He’ll be fine.
As Abby comes back in, face all aglow and hand gripping Wymack’s tightly as she starts yammering on about the details of the cruise, Kevin smiles softly.
Regardless of what happens to him, he knows it’s the right choice. And that, at least, is something he can be proud of.
They’re in the middle of dishes later when the phone rings again.
This time, it’s Kevin’s device that blares an annoying Katy Perry ringtone. The sound has him rolling his eyes in fond exasperation as he drags it out of his pocket. “Jeremy?” he answers with a raised brow.
“Kevin!” Jeremy gasps at him on the screen, his voice shaking. “Jean has…Jean has…oh my god, he’s killed it!”
“Killed it?” Kevin repeats, a sliver of panic rising in his chest. His fingers tighten around the phone as he looks down at Jeremy’s pinched face. “Killed what?”
“He’s killed…the…the…turkey!” Jeremy spits out, and Kevin watches the serious façade he was trying so hard to hold onto dissolve into giggles. “He’s burnt it to a crisp! Oh my god, I mean…just look at this thing!”
Kevin gives an internal sigh of relief as Jeremy bursts out laughing again. The California native flips the camera’s view to show a black, charred carcass still smoking out on their deck.
“It was dead already,” he hears Jean argue petulantly in the background.
Kevin can’t help the grin that appears on his face. “Moreau, that bird looks like it’s been thrown into the sun.”
Jeremy cracks up again as Jean’s face suddenly appears on the screen. “Shut up, Day. Just because you have the most amazing cook on the entire eastern coast-”
“Aww, thank you, dear!” Abby calls out to him.
“-you are more than welcome, mon cherie – doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be shit at this as well,” Jean flips from sweetly addressing Kevin’s stepmother to roasting him in quick succession.
“Well, to be fair, it is only your second time,” Kevin concedes. “And I think Jeremy was the one who made it last year anyway, right?”
“He will be making it every year at this rate,” Jean says darkly, eyes narrowed at his partner offscreen.
“No way! Mine was totally undercooked – you said you were surprised we didn’t get Salmonella!”
Jean’s brow furrows. “Good point.”
“Abby, how do you feel about adding two guests to your table for Christmas?” Jeremy asks eagerly, snatching the phone back from Jean. “Two poor, starved souls who have never had a decent meal in their life?”
Abby chuckles at the sink. “Of course, you’re more than welcome, hon!”
“Like hell,” Wymack cuts in, scowling over Kevin’s shoulder. “Who says I want to share, hm, Knox?”
“I’ll make it worth your while, sir,” Knox grins at him, far from intimidated. “Got a 12-year-old bottle of Macallan with your name on it!”
Wymack’s lips twitch. “Nice bribe, Knox, but save it – we won’t be here.”
“Oh?” Jeremy’s eyebrows rise. “Where are you guys going?”
“On an all-expenses paid cruise!” Abby squeals again. “Trip for two to the Bahamas!”
“Oh my gosh, that’s amazing!” Jeremy cries, matching her enthusiasm. “Good for you guys! A trip for two to…” He trails off, his brow furrowing. “But-”
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Kevin cuts in quickly. “There’s no one else who deserves it more.”
“Well, of course, but-”
“I still say you should just buy a ticket and join us,” Wymack grumbles, taking a swig of his beer.
“Not gonna happen,” Kevin says flatly.
“Oh! Um, then, why don’t you come and stay with us?” Jeremy pipes in.
Kevin’s brain simply stops. His mouth drops open as he whips back to look at the phone. “I…what?”
“Come stay with us for Christmas!” Jeremy offers again, his smile growing wider. “After all, it’s the ‘off year’ with my family where my sisters split to the four winds and Julie has Mom this year so – it’ll just be me and Jean!”
“Yes, it will just be you and Jean,” Kevin agrees, ignoring the uncomfortable prickle in his chest. “So you two should enjoy it together. You don’t need me hanging around as a third wheel.”
“It’s not about needing, it’s about wanting you here,” Jeremy argues. “Come on, Kev! We haven’t hung out in so long – just the three of us. It’ll be great to catch up!”
A warning tone starts to blip in the back of Kevin’s head. “Jeremy, I don’t think-”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Abby interrupts.
“And I second it,” Wymack immediately pipes in.
“This isn’t a motion, Dad, you can’t just-”
“We could go shopping in the village where they have all those Christmas stands, and make a gingerbread house, and go ice skating-”
“It’s because we don’t want you to be alone at Christmas, dear. No one deserves to be alone at Christmas.”
“I won’t be alone!”
“-and then there’s caroling, and that production of A Christmas Carol they’re performing down on Carlisle, and I bet we could find a hill to go sledding-”
“Coco doesn’t count.”
“She does too count! Why wouldn’t she count?”
“Because she’s a cat, son.”
“-and then there’s drinking hot cocoa, of course, and watching a Christmas movie marathon while we snuggle up by the fire, and baking sugar cookies and-”
“I mean it’ll just break my heart to think of you all by yourself up here while we’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves on a beach somewhere.”
“This is seriously not as big a deal as you guys are making it out to be-”
“Okay, that’s it – David, I’m calling them back and telling them we’re not going.”
“WHAT?!”
“Abby, wait! Jesus, I just – shit – I mean, of course, you’re going, I literally just told Dad-”
“Kevin!” Jean’s voice cuts through the madness like a lifeline. “Enough!”
Everyone immediately falls silent.
“Merde alors,” the Frenchman curses before he glares at Kevin, saying exasperatingly, “I have already bought you a plane ticket, Day. It’s in your inbox. We’ll pick you up at seven pm, Tuesday night on the seventeenth.”
“I-you-what?” Kevin sputters. “But-”
“Do not argue with me,” Jean replies viciously. “Just pack your shit and be there at the gate when it tells you to. I will get the guest room ready, Jeremy will buy enough food to feed an army, and you will be grateful for all of it. Now, I need to go pick up Thai food because apparently, they’re the only place open on this blasted holiday which means I have no more time for your bullshit. Comprende? Oui, parfait. Au revoir.”
And suddenly Kevin is blinking at a blank screen in front of him.
He looks up just in time to see Wymack grin at him. “So, what souvenir do you want from the Bahamas, son?”
Kevin blinks tiredly at the lights in the airport terminal as he gets off the plane. He scratches his chin absently, his beaten-up backpack loosely held over one shoulder as he shuffles through the quiet airport. He yawns along with a couple of other passengers as they all wander blearily toward the exit.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and smiles at one text waiting on his screen before moving on to the other, more recent one.
Dad : Here. Just text me when you’re off the plane.
Kevin quickly shoots a note in reply.
By the time he makes it through the lobby doors, he finds Wymack waiting for him. The man leans against his truck, a tired but steady presence that never fails to calm Kevin. He has a ballcap and a PSU sweatshirt on, the night air in South Carolina dipping low enough to warrant one in September. Luckily, it’s not one of the glaring neon-orange ones so Kevin still has hope they’ll stay under the paparazzi radar.
A small lump forms in his throat as he approaches his father.
Wymack’s eyes immediately lock onto him, doing a quick scan before a slow smile spreads on his face. “Hello son.”
Kevin gives a small smile in return. “Hey Dad.”
The two look at one another. Then Kevin is enveloped in an enormous hug, the older man nearly crushing him as he squeezes Kevin tight.
Kevin is surprised but quickly returns it, hugging him just as fiercely back.
“Welcome home,” Wymack says softly.
It’s stupid that the simple phrase is almost enough to bring tears to Kevin’s eyes, but he finds himself swallowing repeatedly regardless. “Thanks,” he whispers in return.
Then they both step back as Wymack gruffly tells him, “Come on. Abby’s waiting.”
Kevin nods.
They swing themselves up into the truck, before Wymack steps on the gas and takes off into the night.
There’s no reason Kevin should be this nervous.
But he’s already drank three orange juices, visited the bathroom twice, and is now systematically tearing his napkin into tiny, itty-bitty shreds on the tray in front of him. His anxious behavior is so bad that the woman sitting next to him finally pats his hand, smiles, and says, “Scared of flying?”
Kevin nearly scoffs. He doesn’t care about flying.
But apparently, his cat does.
Coco makes another mournful cry from under his seat, and he winces. But the lady just chuckles.
“Well, don’t worry, hon,” she hums, settling back in her seat. “We’ll be landing soon and both of you will feel much better then, I’ll bet.”
Kevin swallows and forces himself to smile back at her. But he’s not so sure.
See, the problem isn’t flying – it’s who he’s flying to.
Kevin grimaces, hands balling into fists on his lap. To say things have been a bit awkward since the last time they saw one another is probably an understatement.
The whole thing began back on Jean’s surprise birthday party in April, where all the Foxes, along with Jeremy and Jean’s friends, had traveled to Mexico to celebrate. It’s where Neil, Andrew, and Allison had all thought it would be the perfect opportunity to say something to Kevin. Something that had thrown Kevin’s world off its axis. Something that had made him want to prove them wrong.
So, he’d done something stupid. He had a consensual, one-night stand with a fan that he instantly regretted. He’d woken up feeling filthy and ashamed, only to find out that everyone at the party knew about it already. He overheard them all as they had a good laugh at his expense – all except for Jean and Jeremy, that is.
Jean and Jeremy, who acted strange.
They became quiet. Distant. Snappish, even – and he didn’t know why. He didn’t know why, and he couldn’t bear to find out.
So he left.
He left for the entire off-season, actually, cutting off all contact with his friends and family as he tried to find himself. But when he returned, Jeremy and Jean immediately found him.
They asked him for answers. Answers that he didn’t have. Answers that he’s still not sure he has now.
Since then, the three of them can’t seem to find their footing, despite efforts on both sides. Kevin tried to let the new season overshadow this awkwardness. He blamed his schedule and preparations for the Olympics as the reasons why he couldn’t call, much less eat or sleep. There was no time to figure out estranged friendships in the wake of such enormous responsibilities.
But now he’s on a flight heading to their house. Now he’s going to be hanging out with Jeremy and Jean exclusively over the next week. Now he’s going to be trapped inside their house with nowhere to go and no excuses.
No distractions, no mafia or other disasters, and especially no Exy.
Now they’re going to expect the answer he’d promised them months ago.
Kevin hangs his head in his hands and groans.
Fuck, this is a terrible idea.
He gets up from his seat, apologizing again to the woman as he dips out and makes his way down the aisle to use the bathroom. The flight attendants stare at him with a modicum of pity, probably assuming he’s having digestive issues. While normally this assumption would panic Kevin further, he has enough on his plate to worry about.
He shuts the door and stands at the sink, staring into the mirror. He peers into his own gaze and takes a couple of deep, calming breaths.
Right, there’s no need to freak out about this. He just needs to remember the plan:
- Provide a plausible excuse of where he’s been the last five months and why.
- (In other words, lie.)
Neil once told him that the best lies are surrounded by truth. So he’ll simply say what he can, using as much of the real story as possible, and hope it’ll be enough. (Never mind the fact that he hasn’t actually come up with a plausible reason why yet. He will. Eventually.)
- Repair their friendship.
It’s his fault that the three of them are in this mess. So it’s up to him to mend what’s broken and try to return them to the level of closeness they had before. It’s what Jeremy and Jean deserve after everything he’s put them through.
- Leave on a high note.
But regardless of how much or how little Kevin is able to repair their friendship during this visit, he knows this is it. He has to move on with his life. He has to let Jeremy and Jean go, for real this time.
There’s a sudden, sharp pain in his chest just thinking about it. His hand clutches his shirt, rubbing soothing circles over his heart as he glares at himself in the mirror.
He’s already thought about his exit strategy. It’ll be natural – just three friends who slowly drift apart. He’ll relegate himself eventually to one of those people who call each other a couple of times a year, who have dinner when the other is in town but doesn’t reach out otherwise.
It’s for the best – for all of them.
So he wants to make this visit good. To have one last memory the three of them can take comfort in for years to come.
He thinks he at least deserves that.
The Fasten Seatbelt sign suddenly blinks on over the mirror. A few seconds later, he hears a knock on the door as a sympathetic female voice tells him, “Sir, I’m sorry but we’re starting our descent. We’ll be landing shortly, so I need you to return to your seat.”
Kevin swallows. He turns on the sink and rinses his hands, just to seem like he’s doing something. “No problem, I’ll be right out.”
He turns back to the mirror and sighs one last time.
Guess it’s time to pay the piper.