A world of ink

10 for kevneil? (Maybe one overhearing the other telling someone?)

Here you go love. I’ve never written Wymack so that’s terribly out of character, sadly, but the circumstances are quite abnormal, so. If you have any question, given how messy this is, come at me. 💕

The way you said “I love you.”
10. Not said to me.
Pairing: Kevineil.

[ listen ]

It was never meant to be heard, never meant at all. Said, quietly confessed—it was sin enough. That Neil would be the cautious ear behind the door was the last thing Kevin Day had possibly left to imagine, and yet, there was no room for regret. All things were done, now.

It wasn’t unusual to find Kevin in energetic, brutal conversations, words harsh and unforgiving, always asking for the best there was to be asked for. This time, perhaps Neil should have known—the door was shut, and there was no sound, almost like the people in it had disappeared. He’d only briefly stopped at first, decided not to wait for Kevin, and certainly not for Wymack who, behind his desk, must have been exhaustingly massaging his temples. That much was true: talking with Kevin was never something soothing. It was all curses and reproaches, requests and orders, it was half-encouragements hidden under in satisfaction. Neil thought he was the only one who could yet distinguish their cruel form and the unsuspected depth they carried, a language so secret and privileged Neil didn’t bother taking offence in Kevin’s comments anymore. He had to know, in each word, affection had been planted, deeply rooted, ineffable.

Really, he would’ve gone back to the court on a normal day, in a normal situation, with a tense frown of slight discontent twisting his front. He’d gone to get Kevin—ten minutes, he had said—and, as a Captain, he needed Kevin on his lineup to steady his team’s wobbly strength, made out of unstable weapons and newfound additions. He tried not to lose himself in the anxiety as he peeped in neighbouring rooms, and came, eventually, to the conclusion that Wymack and Kevin had found it important enough to lock themselves up in his office. That they had to, he didn’t care much—Kevin would have told him if it mattered for him to know. That Kevin wasn’t coming back, he who never tolerated Neil’s lateness in the least, was uncommon enough that he hesitated, hand hovering above the doorknob and wondering if he should. If he could, at all.

Then silence turned into a whisper, mumbled from the inside and through the thick office door, and blood pumped at his ear with the surprise of it. He sighed and turned around, hand falling back against his shorts—but then the voice got louder and he tensed, every muscle ready for defence, even though it wasn’t meant for him. He remembered, idly, how his father never yelled—it was his mother, who did, and she did so ruthlessly, in a less dangerous manner than Nathan Wesninski. People who could keep their calm through violence were meant to be feared, were meant to be dreaded. Mothers like Mary weren’t soft or tender, but they were honest, predictable, loyal in their harshness, and Neil couldn’t blame her for that. His father, on the other hand—he was all surprise and deception, he was fake smiles and freezing laughters.

“Kevin!” Wymack yelled again, but it took a second for Neil to realize it wasn’t anger. It was worry, the one he’d heard so many times in Wymack’s tone, though smoothed out with annoyance and exhaustion. He wondered what they were arguing about, but surely, it wasn’t his business and he was not going to linger where he wasn’t supposed to linger.

It came before he could get away, and his body stilled as it reached his ears—“it’s Neil,” Wymack added. It was rough and rushed, like he was out of breath, like he didn’t want the words in his mouth. They needed to be gone, out of reach.

Neil swallowed down, hesitated again; but got closer anyway, heart racing a little at the thought they were discussing him. For a brief second he wondered if they were going to take the Captain title out of his hands, and he rushed, anxious, to find what mistakes he had possibly done to lead them to this necessity. It was stupid and instinctive, however—because he knew, full well, that the two of them would have told me about their doubts and discontent before ever plotting to take the rank away from him. Coach and Kevin were no liars, no strategists. Not when it came to Neil, anyway.

“You don’t know him like I do,” Kevin protested softly, and it sounded like an accusation. Neil couldn’t help the blood as he furiously blushed, because Kevin was telling the truth.

“I’ve seen enough.” There was a pause, and he could guess Kevin was holding back something. He wondered if that was it, if they were going to leave the room and catch him red-handed, but the temptation to catch their following words was too strong to get away from the door. His Foxes were waiting, surely—but if he left before he could figure this out, he knew he’d regret it. “This is not a good idea.”

“Of all people, I never thought you would say this about us.” Now Neil’s heart stopped and started, stopped again, unsure what he was supposed to do with such information. Everything started to make sense, slowly: from Kevin’s distant irritation and quietness this morning, to the way he’d offhandedly informed him in the lockers that he’d be late for practice, that he needed to discuss something in Wymack’s office before practice. Neil had only nodded, and he could only do so much, but to think he’d planned on telling Wymack about the two of them was both unnerving and heartwarming. It meant it mattered, it meant he cared. It also meant Kevin had changed his mind, after the fight they’d had—and countless others, really—on the matter two days ago. Neil had known better than to ask again.

“This is not about you both. Together.” Wymack seemed to think about his next words, possibly to avoid getting Kevin angrier than he already was. Neil had no idea what the deal could be, and his chest was tight, with worry, with impatience, with something as unsettling as fear yet not quite. He brought his ear closer to the door, palms flat on it to bear his own weight as he listened. “And it’s not about public image, either. I don’t care who you love or who you hook up with,” he started, but Kevin cut him off before he could finish.

“—Neil and I aren’t hooking up.”

For a second, Neil frowned, offended—but then he softened in the same breath, knowing Kevin too well to realize his broken voice hid another truth. It was handed, offered, visible to those only who looked closely enough to see it. Wymack was one of them.

“I’m not belittling your relationship, Kevin. I know how important you are to each other.”

“Then what’s the deal with him? Don’t you like him?” Kevin forced, and Neil sensed in his tone he was split in two, broken in half, divided between his love for Neil and the father he’d always missed.

“Don’t say stupid things,” was almost a sigh, but Kevin was already gone.

“I’ve waited long enough. I’ve made him wait long enough. We need more, we need to let it out and be done with it. This isn’t other people’s business, but this is our freedom, too. We have the right to be.”

“It might,” Coach tried, and he made a frustrated sound, reaching out to grab the right words. “It might get dangerous, do you understand? All that business that’s linked between you both and your careers,” he said, and, more cautiously, “with the Moriyamas.”

The name made Kevin’s breath hitch, or perhaps did Neil imagine it. He had no difficulty picturing his steady, tense body standing there, helpless and outraged, and fought the urge to come in and soften the hard edges of his anxiety. He was perhaps the only one who could bring Kevin back, who could ground him like he did.

“They have no interest in my personal life.”

“They don’t,” Coach agreed. “And they won’t, until things backfire, as they always do.”

Neil looked down at the tiled, white floor, and he was surprised to find himself heavy with guilt. It wasn’t something he was used to, much less something he liked, but the idea of putting Kevin in danger was unbearable. Things had gone steady now, tender, almost too good to be true, but he couldn’t be sure about that. He could never bring himself to hope, thinking, perhaps, if he did, everything would turn into chaos again. It left him on the edge all the time, ready to run, ready to fight, overanalysing what always seemed like the premises of terrible things. He could never truly rest, never truly breathe.

“What do you think will happen the day you and Neil retire? How are you going to pay the Moriyamas if you don’t play anymore?” From outside, Neil could imagine Kevin’s displeased frown at the mental picture. Neither of them really did like to think about those things, that’s true.

“I don’t know,” Kevin spat, half-aggressive. “I’ll find a way. There has to be one.”

“No, I’ll tell you what’s going to happen: they’ll use one against the other, and if that doesn’t work…” he never got to finish his sentence, but Neil shuddered so hard he almost bumped back into the door. The shiver left him feeling cold all over, lonely, too, another sense of lonely than he usually did. He felt filthy on the inside, guilty perhaps. “They’ll force Neil to pay what he owes and it’ll be too easy to threaten him when they’ve got you at hand.”

“What do you mean?” Kevin’s voice was almost timid, then, asking something he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask.

“I mean leverage. Real threats. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“What about the contrary?” he asked, suddenly, and the question obviously took Coach by surprise.

“The contrary?”

“What if they ask me to pay them back in exchange of Neil’s safety? What if they tell me I can never see him again if I fail?” The thought was so terrible Kevin barely managed to voice it, but Neil was able to feel the strength of his affection in every word, tainted with fear and doubt and all things terrible.

“I don’t know,” Wymack admitted. He let out another sigh, probably rubbing his face in sheer fatigue. “I never thought we’d get this far into… that.” That—the mafia, a whole new world of lies and murder that belonged to Neil. It was Neil, who had brought it here, Neil who had introduced them to its cruelty. He swallowed dry, angry with himself for putting each and every Fox in danger. It was that moment Kevin chose to speak again.

“I won’t let that happen. None of it. I love him and they don’t get to take that away from me.”

Wymack’s silence was telling: it was the first time he’d heard those words.
Neil’s, on the other hand, was pure shock. He hadn’t thought Kevin would use such blunt and irrefutable facts, not in front of his father, not about Neil. He loved him. Oh, he loved him, and now these words echoed in his ears, endlessly so, singing melodies unknown until then.

He hadn’t realized how startling their following silence was, how deep and still it had become—and soon enough Kevin was pushing the door open, so brutally Neil barely had enough time to back off.

Neil stood there, baffled, and Kevin looked up to stare him down, eyes an odd mixture of fear and anger.

“Did you hear?” is all Kevin said, rough and hard.

“Kevin,” was Neil’s meek attempt at calming him down.

The answer was not what Kevin had wanted, but it said enough. He observed Neil in silence for a moment, taking his features in, tracing the lines of his jaw and lips, perhaps holding back a touch. Then their eyes met and fought, exchanging secrets in quiet breaths, and the meaning of their look was almost too heavy to bear.

“Don’t take too long,” Kevin eventually settled for as he turned around, disappearing into the corridor way too fast for Neil to reach out. He could only watch him go, heart racing with every word unsaid, wondering if that was a good thing. Kevin hadn’t reproached him to eavesdrop. He hadn’t even tried to refute what he had said. He hadn’t tried to adorn the truth, to make it softer, to lessen the dread in Wymack’s words—that was truth as it was and this is also how Kevin wanted Neil to have it.

Kevin loved him and Neil loved him back, that much they knew.

Still, he’d never heard such words falling from his mouth, and, dreamily, he longed to hear them again.

See, that’s what the app is perfect for.