Andrew had never imagined hating Exy more than he already did. The constant travel, the endless schedule, the time he couldn’t spend on the court with Neil—it all made him want to walk away from it entirely. He almost had, too. If Kevin hadn’t been on the team, he probably would’ve quit before even stepping fully into the pro world. At least he had Kevin. That helped. But it wasn’t the same. Not when Neil was just four months away from joining him. Four months too long.

Four years ago, if someone had told Andrew that his “nothing” would work so well with Neil now, he would have laughed. But it did. Somehow, it had. The ease between them had grown, layer by layer, with more yesses than nos, more trust than hesitation. Their intimacy wasn’t just physical—it was exploration, patience, and understanding. The dynamic had shifted, moved into territory Andrew hadn’t imagined when he first demanded things from Neil. Now it was shared, switched, deliberate. It was better. They read each other perfectly, and there were no secrets left.

Andrew remembered the first time he’d let Neil see his own scars—the ones on his wrists he’d always hidden—and how Neil had kissed each one softly, reverently. It had broken a piece of him open, but in the safest way possible. Now he didn’t need armbands to feel protected, and he trusted Neil enough to let him see the damage and the dark spaces without hesitation. Neil’s scars and injuries had always been open for Andrew to see, so giving Neil the same trust felt natural, necessary even. Neil was patient, loyal, unrelenting in his care, always making sure Andrew’s boundaries were respected. Neil was everything Andrew hadn’t known he needed.

But this final year before Neil joined his team was proving difficult. Neil was busy as captain, tied up with his responsibilities, and Andrew’s professional team demanded him more than ever, even if goalies didn’t require much practice. The time to see each other—or even just call—was scarce. They texted, tried to call when they could, but there was an inevitable emptiness when Andrew returned to his apartment alone. Palmatto was always a trip he made whenever he could, but even flying across states couldn’t replace the comfort of Neil’s presence.

And yet, despite the frustration, the distance, and the exhaustion, Andrew clung to the fact that they were still together, still in sync. He could feel Neil’s attention threading through the small cracks—through texts, through calls, through the brief moments they stole—and it kept him anchored. He would endure these months. He had to. Because waiting for Neil, even when it hurt, was worth it.