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The ghost of Riko's arm wound across his upper back, lingering with vicious intent. A suffocating vice, wrangling the defiance out of him in a mere gesture. His skin still burned from the press of Riko's mouth over his ear, the grin etched onto his flesh. The hissed words had cut deep and true.
When it comes to this, there is nothing that can stop me. Run along while you still can, but know this, brother. I will have you.
After Riko's declaration while standing in the middle of the Court, for a moment, Kevin was transported back under the merciless darkness of the Nest, back into the singe of familiar pain of the whip. With Riko so close, enveloped by his scent, he readily fell into it. It was an open gate, a damaged dam flooding and infecting his mind with the recollection of branding hands digging into flesh and bones, molding Kevin into something meek and docile. Into Riko's.
The sound of a racquet slamming against the floor echoed throughout the stadium, unkindly piercing through the haze of his spiral. The way his head snapped to meet Andrew's was almost instinctive. Across the field, Andrew's short stature was nothing short of ridiculous, though the weight of that intense gaze was enough to whisk him away from Riko's clutches.
As predicted, they lost. The buzzer went off with the scoreboard at 13-6. It was humiliating. It was exhilarating. This team was nowhere close to being perfect, could never be, but the speck of light peaking through at the end of the tunnel gave him enough courage to get back up again.
The bone-weary exhaustion struck him hard post-game. Even though he was still jarred, the memories fresh and hurting, Kevin thought it was over. He thought he was allowed to finally break, to drop the facade of bravery, to curl up where none would find him and lick his wounds. He thought, he thought, he thought-
He thought wrong. It took one mishap, one miscalculation on his part. Kevin's mind was not his own. Had not been since the start of the game. It was only logical that he failed to notice his phone was missing until he was walking outside the back gate.
"Kevin." The bite in Andrew's voice sliced through him, turning when he realized seconds later that Kevin had fallen behind.
"I forgot my phone in my locker. I'll be right back." He said, not daring to lift his eyes. He wasn't certain whether he could handle being caught under the undoing strain of Andrew's barren expression right now.
"I'll come with."
His brows furrowed into a frown as he turned to glare at Neil. "I don't need a babysitter."
"Sure," Neil drawled, not believing him for a second before addressing the rest of the team. "You don't have to wait for us. Just go."
They were all exhausted. In the end, only Andrew stayed back, vigilant. Watching. With a roll of his eyes, he dragged his feet back inside the lockers.
"I guess you're not that much of an asshole, after all."
He scowled, shooting Neil a quick look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Neil shrugged as he briskly kept up with Kevin's longer strides. "When you stood up to Riko. They'll never admit it, but your words got through to everyone."
"Shut up." He hissed and picked up the pace, ignoring the weird fluttering sensation in his stomach. He weaved through the rows of lockers at the very far end. When he made a turn, his body seized, every muscle in his body going taut.
"Looking for this?"
Riko was casually perched upon the benches, right leg crossed over the other loosely as he twirled Kevin's phone in his hand. The smile that curled on his lips spoke of impending ruin. The Foxes had lost. They had been thoroughly disgraced before the eyes of millions. What more did he want? What more could he possibly take?
"What are you doing here?"
Riko caught the phone, his hold tightening. The smile vanished as soon as it appeared. Neil wasted no time in barreling forward, putting himself as a physical blockade between the two of them. He squared his shoulders, assuming a threatening stance as if- as if it was his rightful place, as if he could shield Kevin from every single fucked up thing in his life.
Andrew, he thought hysterically when he saw the manic gleam in Riko's eyes. I need Andrew.
He took a step back but hesitated, disgusted at himself for even considering the thought of leaving Neil alone to fight Kevin's own battles whilst he fled for safety like a coward. But what could he possibly do? His phone was confiscated, and Neil didn't seem like he was willing to back down. If they made a run for it, they could probably make it before Neil decided to bring catastrophe raining down on them and do something as foolishly reckless as attack Riko.
Kevin reached forward, closing his hand firmly around Neil's wrist. "Neil."
"Shut up, Kevin."
He gritted his teeth and tightened his hold. "Neil-"
"You can run if you want." Neil said. He didn't pull away. "Get Andrew."
His vision nearly flashed red, barely restraining himself from reeling Neil in to shove him against the nearest locker. The unshakable drive, the underlying sympathy in his voice. He didn't need his pity. When he saw movement from his peripheral vision, his head snapped up, daring to meet Riko's. However, the venom in Riko's poorly-concealed eyes was directed down, his attention wholly possessed on the place where Kevin held onto Neil. He snatched his hand back as if burned, folding his arms protectively near his body, shielding his left out of sight.
"How long is it going to take for you to understand that you're nothing more than rewritten past? You're not worth the dirt beneath Kevin's shoes. Honestly, I fail to see what's so great about you. A king," Neil stuck out his chin, leveling Riko with a look of disdain. "A spoiled brat whose favorite toy has been taken. You are nothing without him, and you know it."
He knew Neil was an idiot. It was an irrevocable truth. He supposed he now had to add actively suicidal to that list, since there was no possible outcome where Neil would walk free from this.
Riko remained quiet. Uncharacteristically composed. Then, he flicked a hand. Neil braced. Discipline was singing for them, a discordant chaos of promised pain. When he felt hands wrestle him away, he yelled. He twisted and struggled, but Kevin was never taught how to fight back. He only ever knew how to take. Amidst his pitiful attempt, fingers viciously clenched around his left hand threateningly, and his vision flashed white in panic, his body clamping up like prey. Soon after, with a kick to the back of his knees, he was knocked down. Through the static in his ears, he thought he heard a faint voice; familiar, wounded- enraged. He blinked and saw Neil being held down by three of the Ravens. He quickly scanned their surroundings, though besides the few familiar faces, Jean was not among them. He assumed his absence was deliberate.
Neil's nose was already bleeding, red and angry and blooming with a bruise. The way Neil resisted was violent and uncontrollable, a snarl etched on his face. The three Ravens twice his size struggled to pin him in place. A hand fisted Neils' curls, yanking his head back in an unnatural angle, only to drive it against the cold, unyielding floor. He flinched at the resounding crunch. They did it again and again, smashing Neil's head to the floor until his face was an indistinct mess of blood and swollen bruises. The paralyzing fear gripped him, then, punching the air out of him. Neil could die. He would die if they continued. To be forced to witness Neil be sacrificed before him, brutalized like a feral beast that needed to be put down-
He would not survive it.
"Stop." He said with a choked whisper, incapable of turning his eyes away from Neil's mangled face. "Stop it."
Legs came to a stop before him, clad in black. When Riko crouched before him, his body responded with the lesson of obedience whipped into his frame. He shrank under that gaze, his eyes falling at the red lines of the Raven's jersey.
"Kevin. Look at me."
Licks of flames traveled from his left hand, the muscles spasming. Besides the sound of his own hammering heartbeat, the room was filled with Neil's horrible wheezes, a weak rattling of lungs. After two seconds, Kevin looked up.
"I warned you, yet you failed to listen. This?" Riko gestured behind him, his eyes never straying away. "This is your own doing. This is the consequence of your arrogance. This is all you'll ever know. You were meant for me. Every breath," fingers trailed over his throat, rising to his temples, knuckles brushing along his disheveled locks with a mocking caress. "Every thought, every second. Even in death, you will know nothing but this."
He recoiled, the burden of dawning horror plummeting to his gut. This wasn't about a mere retaliation to Neil's offense. This was a lesson in ownership. A lesson in the gravity of their bond unionized in blood. In the Nest, there was a legal obligation to keep Kevin functional. In consequence, Jean became the puppet to withstand the heavy brunt of punishments in his place. It was during a severe punishment, Jean flickering in and out of consciousness, when Kevin made the mistake of crying out in protest.
Riko, you're killing him, he had wept, foolish and naive. He's our brother and you're killing him.
It was then that Riko snapped as he bent Kevin over Jean's prone form and fucked him until he was drowning in it. From that point on, it became a recurring thing. Not a punishment, but a cruel reminder. Riko would make both of them bleed, stained hands clasped, mouths full of blood as they would consummate their sacred bond.
Dog and master. Owner and servant. Brothers.
See? Riko would whisper with heated desperation against the wet coating of mingled blood on his mouth. Blood of my blood. Do not forget, otouto. You will always belong to me.
This was the one thing that Kevin never gave away, much to Riko's continuous indignation and hurt. The gift of acceptance. Of acknowledgement. Perhaps in action, but never in words. Never what Riko ached to hear.
When Andrew was dragged inside, lashing and bloodied, Kevin had to choke down the burst of distraught laughter that bubbled up his throat. He didn't wait for the holy judgment of Andrew's gaze as he glanced away. Witnessing his face transform with a hint of fragile humanity at the sight of Neil's broken frame was too much to bear.
A strangled yelp came, followed by hollow laughter. In his struggle, Andrew had managed to weasel his hand out of the grip and plunge one of his knives into a Raven's shoulder. Then, he went down, arm twisted with a sickening crunch.
The air grew scarce, thin and fading. Kevin gasped with shallow, erratic breaths. Andrew refused to relent, as if unaware of the grotesque angle of his broken arm. Another hand shot out, holding him by the ankle. Kevin flinched at the savage wrenching.
"Choose." Riko said, his voice sounding faraway. "One shall live. Choose, Kevin. This is my mercy to you."
He thought he saw Neil blink, his eyes shifting, but there was no way to tell whether he was cognizant of what was happening. Though he did not- could not turn, he felt Andrew's eyes drilling into the side of his head, demanding, always demanding. When he said nothing, Riko sighed with heavy disappointment.
"If you do not, then both of them will die. Choose, Kevin."
Riko pulled away, rising tall on his feet. Choose. Choose between his anchor and his light. Between the twin flames, between his reasons for survival, for strength.
He knew, then, as Riko slowly approached Andrew, knife flicking open in his hand, that something had to give. His wretched pride. His dignity. His innocence. This wasn't a mere power play, no. Despite Riko's volatile and rotten nature, his desire to make it known as law that Kevin was utterly and wholly his, he was far too possessive to have ever gone through drastic public displays. Kevin's blood was to be shared only between brothers.
"Riko, don't," he protested weakly, inching forward. When had the hands on him disappeared? "Don't hurt them. Riko, please."
His voice fell on deaf ears. This was it. He was powerless, at fault, vacant eyes haunting him. Kevin let out a shuddering breath, face blooming with scorching heat. He wetted his dried lips, his tongue feeling like lead in his mouth.
"Nii-san," he begged in a quiet tone. Despite its meekness, it crackled in the air like thunder. When Riko turned with howling flames in his eyes, he trembled with the dawning horror of what would follow. He was too weak, too ashamed as he kept his gaze downcast while the soft taps of footsteps loomed closer. For the first time, Kevin wished they were alone.
Fingers, thin and elegant, cupped his jaw, coaxing his head up. They roamed, a thumb pressing nail against cheekbone over the number two.
"You will not hurt them." He declared, though it fell fragile and shaky with uncertainty. Even if he yielded, there was no guarantee that Riko would stick to his word. His word meant nothing, but what else could he possibly do other than try? He owed it to them. Riko was a monster of his own making. Once, he had been too afraid to take responsibility, and Jean ended up taking the worst of it. He was not brave, nor selfless, nor heroic- but this… Riko's grotesque love was carved into his flesh and marrow. This, he knew intimately.
"Say it." Riko said with insatiable hunger and leaned close until there was barely a hint of air separating them, tracing Kevin's lips with his own as if craving to swallow down the words.
He closed his eyes in acceptance, his stomach roiling. "Nii-san."
"Again."
"Nii-san."
"Again."
"Nii-san."
"Again."
"Nii-chan," he said in a hoarse voice, choking on the white-hot humiliation that gnawed inside his chest, clogging up his lungs with it. A thumb brushed against the wetness on his cheek. With a small flinch, heaving out a shuddered breath, warm tears had spilled out of his eyes, staining his face. The first and last time he had ever cried in front of Riko was when he had first taken him.
His breath hitched in his throat when Riko tilted his head and dragged his parted lips over the tracks of tears. Then, Riko angled his head away, tasting the saltiness on his lips, and began laughing. It was a terrible, grating sound, a declining mass of hysteria.
"I always found your defiance aggravating, and yet it pleased me to see you fight. Your inevitable submission would be all the more gratifying." Riko admitted with a hideous grin, promising pain. His face twisted into something ugly and ravenous, hungry for blood.
"After years of defiance, you finally give in for them?"
The snarl was pressed against his face in Japanese. Kevin breathed heavily, stuttering, but otherwise remained silent under Riko's icy glare. There was nothing to be said that would make the situation better, as he was met with the truth. With a terrifying thought, Kevin realized that there wasn't anything he would not do for Andrew and Neil, even if it meant bringing down Riko's wrath upon him to keep them safe.
"Very well." Riko spat through gritted teeth in English, his eyes gleaming. "Shall we show your mutts how well you can take me?"
There was a shout, a fight, a rustle. Furious, desperate, livid. When he was shoved to the ground with the terrible weight of Riko's familiar body plastered against his back, Kevin's mind detached from his body. He planted his forearms on the ground, staring at the jagged scars along his left hand, eyes empty, vacant. The hardness in Riko's pants pressed against his clothed backside with a forceful thrust. A hand curled around his jaw from behind, two fingers shoving into his mouth, pressing down harshly on his tongue before sliding fully to assault the back of his throat.
He gagged and spluttered, saliva coating the corners of his lips. Somewhere in the distant, knowing part of his brain, he understood where this would lead. Without needing to hear a word of command, Kevin began to reluctantly suck on the fingers in his mouth, disgustingly slobbering at them. Spit was the only kindness he was going to get.
His head was tugged up by those fingers, a single word whispered heatedly against his ear. "Look."
Kevin obeyed on instinct and regretted it instantly. Immediately, through the haze of tears, he was put under the intensity of Andrew's frightening gaze. He hardly bit back a sob and angled his head away, jaw twitching around the fingers.
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, otouto." Riko taunted from behind. "After all, you and that rat understand what it means to be brothers."
He did not allow himself to consider the implication of those words; he did not, he could not- not when Riko finally released the hold in his mouth and skimmed wet fingers over the exposed skin on his waist. That hand sneaked beneath his shorts and underwear, two fingers plunging through the dry tightness of his entrance with perverse force.
Kevin clamped his teeth into the meat of his right forearm, muffling the guttural scream that rattled his throat. It hurt, it fucking hurt, it felt like he was being torn open, the wetness from his own spit not nearly enough to assuage the burn of the stretch. Entirely too soon, a third finger skirtered along the tautness of his rim, prodding, teasing.
And then, as soon as it came, the intrusion was lost, the fingers wrenching out of him and out of his shorts. The suffocating weight vanished, and Kevin was left desolate against the biting chilliness of the floor. He waited to be debased, he waited for the cruel calling of his brother's fingers to leave him bare and used and owned. He waited and waited, but as the seconds ticked by, his heartbeat fluttering like a rabbit, blood howling in his ears, nothing came.
Then, a delicate, light touch on his shoulder. He tensed, bracing himself. The touch remained; passive, harmless. Constant. He thought- he thought he heard a voice, mellow and soft. Slowly, almost unwillingly, his senses returned to him, the world crashing down on him.
"Hey there, you. Do you think you can sit back for me?" Abby's blonde hair filled his vision. He swallowed and dared to take in his surroundings with a scurried glance. The lockers were now empty, any trace of everything wiped clean, save for Wymack- for his dad, standing only a few paces away, his body turned to him with a hardened expression on his face.
Kevin's eyes fell on the stained blood on the floor across him, a pool where Neil's battered body had been lying. Immediately, his body seized with panic.
"Where…" he gasped and jerked back, fumbling onto his knees.
"The Ravens are gone. You're safe, now. I- I am sorry we could not come sooner." Abby apologized with a wobbly smile, the self-deprecation of her sorrow slipping through her facade.
"…Neil?" He asked after a long pause, frightened to hear the answer.
"He was rushed to the ER. Andrew was also admitted, but his injuries are minor in comparison. We had to drag him out of here. He didn't want to leave you behind. We're going to drive with the rest of the team to the hospital. You should come to have you checked just in case-"
"No." He rejected flatly, unkindly. His body spasmed, clenching, causing a spike of pain to travel up his spine from his backside. "I want- no. Can I go back to the dorms?"
Abby hesitated, sharing a quick look with Wymack. "I don't think you should be alone-"
"I'm fine." He ground out and shied away from her touch when she tried to help him, rising stubbornly to his feet with a stumble. "I'm not the one who got their brains smashed in."
"Kevin." Came the firm tone of Wymack's voice.
"Can I go?" He turned but didn't dare to look at his dad. He didn't know how much they knew, and he couldn't risk knowing. He was barely holding it together. Rushing to the hospital to hear about the possible outcomes of Neil's injuries would break him. If anything were to happen, it would be his fault. If- when it came to the worst, as it inevitably would, he'd never forgive himself. And all of a sudden, the threat of the Ravens and Riko was the least of his concerns. Neil had Andrew, he thought. He could only hope Kevin's past hadn't damaged them beyond repair.
"We'll check on you after." Informed Wymack as if quietly telling him you're not getting out of this.
He didn't say anything in acknowledgement. Kevin passed them, his feet leading him to the Fox Tower. As soon as he reached the dorms, he stripped clean and stepped under the shower. The water was painfully hot, scalding as it hit his skin. He scrubbed himself clean until he could barely feel any sensation other than dull numbness. Once dressed in layers of clothing, long sleeves covering him from head to toe, Kevin climbed onto his bed and sank under the covers.
The hours that rolled by seemed to blend. At some point, the fatigue pulled him under, and he was more than willing to sink into the comfort of nothingness. He stirred awake when he heard the creaking of the door, followed by shuffling footsteps. His heart lurched to his throat, suddenly wide awake, hands fisting around the pillow.
"Kevin?" Came the soft lull of Nicky's voice. He stayed unnaturally still. After a moment, the footsteps retreated, catching the quiet 'he's sleeping' as the door closed with them. If Nicky was back, then it meant they had a verdict for Neil's condition. It was unavoidable, but the dread that choked him would fight as long as possible to keep him in ignorance.
Hours later, when he lost the battle against his bladder, Kevin dragged himself out of bed and stepped into the hall. Nicky lingered in the lounge with Abby on the couch to his left. Everyone else had been cleared out, it seemed, not wanting to overwhelm him.
"Tell me." He cut in, disrupting their hushed conversation.
Nicky looked unsure, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. His eyes darted back and forth, struggling not to put him in the spotlight, but his curious gaze couldn't stay away. Abby turned to him, her face composed.
"He's stable. Grade 4 concussion. He'll need time, but we're expecting a full recovery. We're looking at two weeks before any strenuous activity, and about two months, or more, before we can clear him to get back into practice."
He nodded wordlessly and made his way into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Then, he collapsed against the sink, his chest rising and falling with each rapid, strained gulp of air. His entire frame shook as he was struck by the sheer wave of relief that overtook him. His fingernails dug into the hard edge of the sink, his left hand throbbing in protest. When he looked up at the mirror, he grimaced at the clammy paleness on his face, the crazed glint in his eyes betraying him.
Good, that's good. He would live. Along with Andrew's broken arm and ankle, they were both going to be out of commission for a while, but alive. Breathing. The thought of being left bare and open and vulnerable filled him with irrational fear, yet at the same time, he was glad. He didn't have the guts to face them, and he figured the last thing they wanted was to see his treacherous face. Not when they knew.
"Is it guilt that's keeping you away from them?"
He tilted his head at Betsy, staring at her impasively.
"Because he used Andrew and Neil against you." She clarified and folded her hands on her lap. Her eyes seemed to see right through him, coming all but empty. "Do you wish Riko had hurt you, too? That it would then balance the scale?"
He averted his eyes, gazing outside the window in Betsy's office to his right. It was a comfort to know that the events that transpired in the locker room were kept secret from the others. He was thankful to them for keeping it to themselves. He wasn't certain whether Kevin could handle the team knowning that part of him so intimately. Still, the constant of their absence lingered with trepidation.
A big part of it (if not all of it) was to be blamed on him. He was the one who actively avoided them. Andrew was cleared in less than a day from the hospital, while Neil had to remain overnight to monitor his condition. Kevin didn't bother getting out of his bed, much less pay them a visit. Nothing good would come out of it. When they were eventually discharged and back into the dorms, Kevin did everything in his power to avoid confrontation.
It was Sunday afternoon when Kevin saw Neil and Andrew step foot into the dorms, followed closely by the rest of the Foxes. The first sight of them froze him in place, a deer caught in headlights. Despite being surrounded by the team, Kevin was pinned in place by both of their piercing eyes. Andrew's right arm and ankle were put in casts, supported by a crutch, but beyond that, there was nothing too terrible beyond some fading bruises. When he turned to Neil, his legs nearly gave out under him.
Bandages were wrapped around his head, hiding the worst of it, but- his face was swollen and riddled with a near pitch-black and purple hematoma. It was a wonder if he could barely see through his eyes.
I did that, he thought as the sound of Neil's head smashing against the ground rang in his head. I did this to him.
Andrew took a step closer, the crutch making a resounding thud. As if he hadn't already made a fool of himself enough, his shoulders jolted, taking half a step back. Immediately, Andrew stilled. In a hike of mortification, his brain planned a possible route of escape. Since everyone was blocking the actual exit, Kevin turned around, barely restrained and stiff, and excused himself as he proceeded to lock himself into the bathroom.
Nobody came to bother him. At some point, there was a faint knock on his door. Nicky or Dan, he wouldn't know since he could barely see or hear beyond the jackhammering in his head. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to get his shit together.
He supposed that was a sign enough that he didn't want to be bothered, because neither Andrew nor Neil tried to approach him. Well, Andrew, for the most part, steered clear of him. It wasn't the same case for Neil, but it seemed as if he changed his mind at the last second.
Having nothing else to do, Kevin plunged into practice. Day and night, all he would do was stand on the Court, run familiar drills, and take shots until his legs were trembling from overexertion. When he wasn't practicing, he was drinking. One night, when he was hammered, he snatched his phone and sent a text to the single contact he hadn't reached out to since his days in the Nest. Of course, Jean never replied. He couldn't say he was surprised. Honestly, he didn't know what to expect. He had lost everything when he betrayed Jean's trust by running away. It was a pathetic attempt at consolation, aching for things he did not deserve to have.
It all came to a bitter end when Kevin was cornered one Friday night on the Court.
Tonight, he had woken up in the middle of the night with the hot press of Riko's teeth into his throat, wrenching out his vocal cords. When he came down onto the stadium and took position, the tension inside him increased with each missed shot. Another shot went off-course, and he gripped the racquet with both hands and slammed it to the ground. The shock of the swing traveled up his arms, a yelp escaping his lips as he clutched his left hand to his chest. The grass beneath him began to become blurry, fuzzy through the stinging tears in his eyes.
"You're going to injure yourself if you keep that up."
He froze, head snapping up. He hadn't heard anyone come in, but Neil stood on the field line, arms folded over his chest. Weeks had passed. The swelling on his face had gone down, the bruises having taken a sickly yellow color.
"You should be resting." He bit out and bent down to pick up his discarded racquet.
Neil raised a brow, choosing not to comment. "We decided to take a night stroll."
We? He glanced above Neil's shoulder, but there was no one else in sight. With a jerk of his chin, Neil gestured behind him. With a sharp inhale, Kevin turned, eyes falling over Andrew's sprawled form on the bleachers. His good hand was tucked underneath his head, whilst the other lay on his stomach. Christ, how far gone was he that he failed to notice when both of them sneaked into the Court? He thought about going back to his practice, but he could hardly ignore them when they circled him like vultures. Besides, nothing would come out of tonight's session, that much was obvious.
"What do you want?"
"For you to stop avoiding us."
"I'm not-" he bit back his words when he saw the unimpressed look on Neil's face. His hold around the racquet tightened. "What do you want from me? An apology?"
He didn't think them cruel enough to hold this over his head- and they hadn't. He supposed they had given him space, time to process and deal. Or they simply felt too disgusted at the sight of him now.
Neil blinked, looking at Kevin as if the question was genuinely perplexing. "Why would I want an apology from you?"
"You-" He paused, blowing out harshly through his nose. "Are you this fucking stupid?"
"Hey-"
"You almost died because of me. You should be angry. I don't need your fucking pity. Do not coddle me just because-" He cut himself off, biting down with intent on the inner flesh of his cheek. He didn't need this. He didn't need their judgment. He didn't deserve to be regarded as less just because he had to survive.
"Leave. If you don't, I will." He stated after a moment of strained silence. Neil said nothing. He only continued to look at him with maddening ferocity, as if he wanted to pry Kevin open and dissect every piece of him.
Kevin gave a wide berth as he began to walk to the gates since Neil was blocking them. No doubt he looked stupid doing it, but he couldn't bring himself to care. When he was a few paces away from Neil, a thunderous noise came echoing around the Court, freezing him in place. The faint thuds of footsteps on bleachers, followed by the softness of the Court. He could almost picture Andrew hobbling his way over to them, but the ridiculous image did nothing to ease his accelerated heart rate.
"You're picking up Neil's bad habits, Kevin. Running's supposed to be his thing."
"Yeah, well," he said, refusing to turn around, instead focusing on Neil as he stood his ground. He didn't filter, lashing out instinctively as he felt himself cornered, threatened. "Nathaniel's a bad influence."
It meant to hurt. If the sharp inhale, the expanding of Neil's chest was anything to go by, he'd say he hit his target spot on. They all knew he hated that name. When Neil said nothing in defense, Kevin regretted it instantly, constricting, shameful heat prickling at his neck.
"Did that make you feel better?" Came the dry accusation in Andrew's tone. "C'mon, we've barely heard that witty mouth of yours chirp. I'm sure it's been a tremendous effort to keep all that arrogance shut in."
"Fuck you." He said scathingly, refusing to acknowledge the twinge of hurt, and resumed on his route of escape. He had only managed to take a step before fingers closed around his right wrist. His mind plunged into something frenzied. Despite the odd coldness of the restraining touch around his wrist, his brain didn't seem to register the stark difference.
"Don't!" He recoiled, wrenching his hand away. His voice was shaken, risen to something thin and pleading. He swallowed down the 'please' that clawed up his throat when his wild eyes met Andrew's.
Then, Andrew slowly held up his palm, honest and nonthreatening, and Kevin despised it. He hated that they had seen him under Riko's heel. He hated that they witnessed his surrender to the perverse greed of his brother's claim as if it was second nature, pliant and obedient and wanting. He hated the fact that no matter how much he scrubbed himself clean, skin raw and red, bruised by his own hand, he would never cleanse himself of Riko's vices.
Once upon a moonlight, Kevin had called out to Riko in familial endearment with all the innocence of the world. When Riko first murmured the word otouto wickedly, hungrily against his ear, he knew that any semblance of purity had long since been defiled.
"Aaron was too innocent to understand at the time. When our foster brother returned home in between deployments, we spent a lot of time together. Aaron thought I was buttering him up. He thought I preferred him over my real brother." Andrew imparted coolly and lowered his good hand by his side. His tone was slow and drawn-out, hollow, as if the mention was a nuisance, as if the recollection of said memory was boring him to death. "I hated him for it. His untainted innocence."
It wasn't too challenging to connect the pieces. Kevin already had his suspicions. With Andrew's aversion to physical touch and his irrational resentment for one specific word, it didn't take long for the conclusion to take shape in his head.
There's nothing to be embarrassed about, otouto. Riko's words echoed inside his head. After all, you and that rat understand what it means to be brothers.
Bile rose to his throat, fighting down the urge. In his mind, Andrew was shaped into something untouchable, something to be revered and respected. Something to be feared. When Kevin first arrived at PSU, brittle and damaged beyond repair, Andrew became the only constant thing in his life. The only one who cared, the only one who kept him from crossing over to the other side. In his mind, Andrew was something close to divinity.
The revelation was jarring. Not because he saw Andrew in a different light. If anything, his wide-eyed, ardent adoration only further swelled in his chest.
"Why are you telling me this?" He mumbled.
"Because your self-flagellation has been getting on my nerves. You've always been pathetic, but there's only so much I can stomach."
Andrew's words were biting, driven with intent. His eyes looked up at him with staggering fierceness, the force of a hundred planets, a thousand stars, as if Kevin was the center of gravity. He huffed, eyes darting away, embarrassingly wet. It was too much.
"You suck at comforting people, you know that?"
Neil tilted his head, eyebrow raised. He had failed to notice when the other stepped so close that the two of them were nearly bracketing Kevin between them. "That's news to you?"
"I suppose not."
After a few seconds, Andrew's question, although quiet, fell like a crackling roar in his ears.
"That word Riko made you call him. What does it mean?"
He could have gone without the need of confrontation, without having to voice it out, but he figured it was only fair after Andrew had sliced out part of his soul and entrusted him with it.
"'Older brother.'" He admitted with a rising tightness to his breathing. "Riko wanted our bond to be… real. Tangible. In every way possible. In every way that mattered. He thought that if he tried hard enough, he would somehow manage to get us flowing through each other's veins. He tried. It was never enough."
This was something he had never confessed to anyone. He believed this part of him would be taken to the grave. Kevin couldn't bring himself to lift his gaze from his shoes. A hand appeared in his vision, pale and unblemished.
"Yes or no?"
His head snapped up, eyes widening. He parted his lips, yet no sound came out. He pressed his lips firmly, stealing a glance at Neil before looking forward again. "What?"
"I want to touch you. Yes or no, Kevin?"
Warmth traveled up his neck, the tips of his ears tingling with heat. "Yes."
First, Andrew grabbed his chin, thumb pressing, lingering over the corner of his mouth before he moved to cup his jaw. The hand slid along the side of his neck until it settled on his nape, fingers curling. A grip, a steering hand. A precious promise. The tender caress of a reminder. He felt a shift behind him, the heat of Neil's body stepping close. Then, a hand; light, barely there, skimming over the expanse of his back.
With a shaky breath, Kevin melted into their presence. He dutifully kept his arms by his sides, his vice-like grip around the racquet loosening as he hunched forward, pressing his forehead against Andrew's shoulder.
A squeeze at his nape, a secure pressure on his back. For the first time, he allowed himself the consoling hope of a sanctuary.