<Andreil Oneshots>

<10> Uphill Will Have A Downhill

why else
are we here if not
to live with unreasonable
passion for things

— butterflies rising

—

Neil had been fighting an uphill battle ever since the womb. Through each hit of a fist, slash of a knife and pound of running feet, he was getting father from his nightmares and closer to his dreams.

Neil had worked his way through every small crevice and clawed himself from his own grave time and time again.

The pale marks decorating his body each holding a story richer with a familiar metallic stench than the last.

Neil had lost and lost and lost — knew to expect as much — but once he had tasted the sparkling gold of victory; he never wanted the dirt again.

Standing underneath the bright stadium lights with his beloved exy stick in his hand and the sweat-soaked jersey on his back was his, quite possibly, favourite feeling. But looking up at the scoreboard and seeing the scores of his own team losing, was something that hurt more than any burn ever could.

The buzzer sounded off and Neil gasped for breath as his stomach clenched painfully. He felt as if he were breathing through heavy knives.

It was ridiculous in any sense, that after years of torture and hiding, that the thing to knock Neil down the most, was losing one single game of exy. It shouldn't matter that it was the finals. Nor that it was against Kevin's team. It certainly shouldn't boil a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach or bring cold sweat to his already damp skin, all over again.

In hindsight, maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had dropped everything —risked everything — to play on a court. To be in a team. To hold a racket. To feel a win. In hindsight, maybe it had something to do with the fact that his mother would beat him black and blue if she knew he was playing, let alone losing.

We aren't losers, his mother would say, we're fighters.

It was so fucking stupid to Neil, so god-awfully pathetic, to be so scared to lose in a game of sport, regardless of the cruel people promising his life for the money his success brought. It was one game.

It did make him wonder, though, if all it was worth it. The pain, the lies, the fear and the suffering; were worth it. To get to the top just to lose to golden-boy Kevin of all people.

It was a gamble; but was he ready to bet.

And maybe Neil was just competitive. Maybe Neil just wasn't good enough.

His blunt nails brought blood to his palms.

He had to do better.

—

Andrew watched emotionlessly as Neil sagged into the apartment after another couple hours of yet another run. He was drenched in sweat and panting like a dog on a hot summer's day.

It was the third time that day.

It was 2.pm.

Andrew's eyebrow twitched in annoyance and he clutched the mug of his over-sweetened hot chocolate tighter. Andrew told himself he didn't care; Neil was just sour he lost to Princess Kevin the day before.

The cats were meowing at Andrew to feed them and when he tried telling them they were fat enough already, they just yowled louder. Neil was normally the one to deal with the animals, Andrew refusing to take any part in Neil's fur children, but it seemed Neil was in his own world far away right then. So the cats had given up on him. And Andrew furrowed his brows slightly as he got off the couch; this wasn't Neil's normal junkie behaviour.