#coachwymack

nicky: but we already have so much work to do-

wymack: just study this weekend, you loser.

nicky: but..!

wymack: nope.

aaron: ha-

wymack: that goes for you too.

The Seattle Spartans were winning in the third quarter. Andrew was in the goal, actually doing his best, Neil was raising hell as a striker, and the defense was as strong as it had ever been. Andrew hadn’t let a single goal in after the coach had threatened to sub him out for another goalie, James. Naturally, that was when it went to shit.

The team they were playing that day were known for their aggressive strikers, and those strikers held their pride high on their list of priorities. Unfortunately, they were also known for their gossiping backliners, who held their stories even higher. Even worse, their favorite topic of discussion was laid out directly before them: the Minyard-Josten Rivalry, as the media had dubbed it. The “rivalry” has blossomed in Neils second year, and had only grown now that he was on a professional team. Mundane activities such as walking in the park and going to the supermarket had been labeled “aggressive” and “brutal” and any moments of peace they had were pierced by news stories and articles attacking their perceived hatred. In a way, they found it funny, so they let it go on, but it was starting to get annoying to be asked intrusive questions such as the reason for their aggression rather than actual exy related questions, and the only reason Neil hadn’t yet put a stop to it was the gleeful look in Andrews eyes when the media blatantly mischaracterized their relationship in a funny way. Of course, it didn’t hurt to read the comments of the gay exy fans who knew exactly what was going on, and Neil might one day even confirm a few theories if it weren’t for the completely disproportionate response he would receive from the homophobes. So for now, they let it be.

With seven minutes left on the clock until fourth quarter, Neil was feeling pretty confident that the game was theirs. They were leading by a good amount of points, and they had subbed in their best players. The dealers put the ball into play, and Neil felt that familiar rush that came with doing what he loved.

The ball came flying to him first when their dealer, Veronica, hit it against the wall and slammed it back to him. He caught it in his racquet, running across the court and passing it to the other striker, Ronaldo. Ronaldo was fairly new to the team, but he was proving himself quickly, and Neil trusted him to get the job done. His trust was misplaced. An opposing backliner checked him into the wall, gaining possession of the ball and passing it to their striker. She ran across the court with Neil hot on her tail, but at the last minute, passed it behind her to the other striker with a complicated maneuver Neil couldn’t counter. The other striker caught the ball before he could intercept and hurled himself toward the goal, flinging the ball towards the net. Neils breath caught in his throat, his chest heaving as he watched the ball fly to the goal, and, for the first time since he had known Andrew, he was genuinely concerned he would block the goal. The ball was aimed toward the left side of the goal, and their was nearly no possible way for Andrew to get to it in time. But miraculously, he did. He would have had to move before the ball even left the strikers racquet, but he hit the ball. He hit the ball so hard that it flew across the court, faster than Neil could even see, straight into the opponents goal. Neils face split into a wild grin as the other team stood dumbfounded, staring at Andrew. The court was silent for one moment, then two, then the crowd broke into wild, screaming applause. Neil let out a loud whoop, clapping the backs of a few of his teammates. Andrew looked bored and expressionless to most people, but Neil could see his pride in the quirk of his mouth. He knew he’d be getting laid tonight.

The moment was broken by the anger of the strikers of the opposing team.

“What the fuck?” The girl, Elizabeth, said. “That’s not even possible! No ones done that in exy history!”

“Yeah, and no one could out maneuver that hit!” Agreed the other striker, Devin. “That was an impossible throw!”

“He must have cheated,” Elizabeth said, rounding on Andrew. Andrew’s eyes narrowed as both Elizabeth and Devin came up to him, but clearly he didn’t look intimidating enough in his bulky exy gear.

“Ought to teach him a lesson,” Devin muttered. Elizabeth smiled.

“You read my mind.”

In the moment, it was hard to tell who threw the first punch. Neil was sure the replays would have cleared it up, but he refused to even look at those. All that mattered was that Andrew was outnumbered. With two tall, bulky strikers on Andrew, especially with so much padding on him, Andrew wouldn’t stand a chance, no matter how many knives he used. Devin ripped Andrew’s helmet off, giving even worse than he got as Elizabeth kicked Andrew down and held him in place. Despite the fact that Neil was on the other side of the court by the time Devin and Elizabeth had begun the fight, he was over there in record time. Still, it wasn’t enough. He was at half-court when he saw Andrew flinch, surely remembering other times of being held down, other bruises in other places. He was yards away when he heard the sickening crack of a nose being broken, and he knew who’s it was. He was out of reach when he heard the maniacal laughter of a sociopath enjoying their job. Of course he recognized it, how could he not?

Despite being the fastest player in all of exy, Neil couldn’t get there in time. The damage was done. They had done it to him, to Andrew, and it was irreversible.

In the back of his mind, he could hear whistles blowing, see referees waving their arms and hauling the strikers off of Andrew, but it’s didnt matter. The damage was done.

Fury raced through Neils veins, fire pulsing through his chest. He tore his own helmet off, leaving it on the court behind him. He wanted to see Devin and Elizabeth’s expressions for this.

“Josten, you’ve gotta stay back,” barked the referee holding a struggling Elizabeth. Neil ignored her and yanked Elizabeth from her grasp, blocking her shout if pain from his mind. He kicked away the referee holding back Devin, slamming him and Elizabeth into the wall of the court. He shoved away the advancing refs as hard as he could, focusing his full attention on Devin and Elizabeth.

“The hell are you gonna be able to do, kid?” Elizabeth snarled. “What, you gay for Minyard?”

“Oh, Elizabitch,” Neil laughed, not bothering to wipe the smile from his face. “Didn’t your mom ever teach you?”

“The hell you talkin about, man?” Devin spat, for once actually looking a little scared. Neil grinned even wider.

“Don’t play with fire or you’re gonna get burned.”

Neil slammed his knee into Devins stomach and twisted Elizabeth’s arm behind her hard enough to hear a snap. He pushed Devins head back into the wall, satisfied with the crack of his helmet hitting the thick plexiglass. Devin fell to the ground next to Elizabeth just as a referee made it to Neil.

“Hey! Josten! Deffrey! Ackerman! Off of each other!” He shouted. He blew his whistle at an ear shattering volume. The three of them were hauled off, Josten to the sidelines and Elizabeth and Devin to the medic, all of them with red cards. None of them would be playing the rest of the game.

***

Thankfully, Neils coach let him off press duty after the game. Neil rushed immediately to the locker room, where he had been waiting out the game. Before he could get in, though, he was stopped at the door by the captain, Alice.

“Hey, Neil, I know you’re upset we lost, but I seriously need you to calm your tits, okay? Minyard isn’t looking great, and he really doesn’t need worse right now. You can do your petty fighting thing later, but we need him to heal.”

Neil knew Alice meant well, but frustration shot through him.

“Get out of my fucking way before I make you,” Neil snapped. Alice sighed.

“Neil, we don’t have time for this! We’re playing against one of the best teams in exy next week, and we can’t have exy’s greatest goalie in the hospital for it, much less exy’s greatest striker!” She said. Neil ignored her and pushed past her, nearly breaking her wrist when she tried to catch him. He took note of his teammates terrified faces as he stormed into the locker room, then promptly ignored them in favor of stopping in front of Andrew, who sat on a bench with ice pressed to his nose.

“I’m going to fucking kill them,” Neil growled, taking in Andrew’s injuries and calculating how long it would take to heal. He should be fine by the next game, but he didn’t care. They had hurt Andrew.

“Neil, don’t-“ James started, but he was silenced by two matching glares.

“I’m okay, junkie,” Andrew said quietly.

“I don’t fucking care! I saw what they did, I know what happened-“

“And they won’t do it again,” Andrew interrupted. “You did them in.”

“She fucking held you down,” Neil said. “He broke your nose. She held you down.”

“I’ve got Bee, haven’t I? And I’ve got you,” Andrew said softly. Their teammates looked on in confusion, whispering to each other. Didn’t they hate each other?

“Yes or no?” Neil asked. Andrew nodded and Neil sat down next to him, drawing him into a gentle embrace. Andrew kissed him on the forehead, then on the neck. A few gasps were concealed by coughs, but Lia, their dealer, was not so sensitive.

“What the fuck?”

***

The next day, the tabloids were covered with images of Elizabeth and Devin on top of Andrew, Neil on top of Elizabeth and Devin, and pictures of Elizabeth and Devin in the hospital. Andrew’s nose was healing nicely, but the tabloids were being dramatic as ever, thanks to the gossipy backliners. Popular headlines were ‘Josten Caught Beating Up Minyards Attackers: Some Kind of Favor Exchange?’ and ‘Inside Scoop From Florida Backliner: Josten Finishes What Deffrey and Ackerman Started?’