Chapter Text
Neil Josten let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag. He inhaled the acrid smoke that brought him back to the beach that had smelled of gasoline and fire. It was at once both revolting and comforting, and it sent a shudder down his spine, dislodging a clump of ash that he watched fall to the bleachers below.
Running his finger along the strap of his duffle bag, he glanced at the night sky to catch a glimpse of the stars, but they were washed out by the stadium lights. Distantly, he tried to remember the cold night when they had to sleep in a broken-down car in the dead of winter. It had been one of those nights when all Neil had was his imagination and a clear sky of constellations. Vaguely, he thought it was when they had been traveling through Switzerland, desperately trying to get to France after almost being found in Germany. But those memories were long since aged in his mind, forcibly forgotten along with the identity representing them.
There were 22 names between him and the truth, and the days seemed to blur together with only a few moments of clarity so bright it made his head swim: the shock of a gunshot wound, the adrenaline of jumping from a moving car, the revulsion of burnt flesh.
The one thing that he knew for certain was that his mother would beat him to hell and back if she saw him sitting around moping like this.
Not for the first time, Neil wondered if she was looking down on him. It was more likely looking up, but the sentiment was the same. If she were, she would be sorely disappointed. He had disobeyed her.
Mary Hatford had given Neil only a few rules eight years ago when she snatched him from his childhood bed in the middle of the night. And within a year of her passing, he had already broken the majority.
Neil knew why they ran and the risk that awaited their capture. Mary’s reasoning had been all too clear for a scared 10-year-old boy.
Neil was an omega, a label referring to him having both male and female organs and anatomy. And since he was old enough to speak, Mary had drilled into him the importance of keeping his secondary gender a secret. To always change alone, to never let anyone get close enough to smell past the pheromone blockers, to not draw attention to himself.
She had hidden the truth of his secondary gender from his father well. Going as far as paying off every doctor and nurse in the hospital to keep him safe. If his father had discovered that Neil was an omega, he would have killed him instantly.
In his father’s eyes, omegas were beneath alphas and betas. Worthless beings that were controlled by their hormones and heats—not to be trusted.
His mother, afraid that his pheromones would present early, took Neil the day before his tenth birthday and ran with five million dollars in cash.
Since the day they ran, Mary had forced heat suppressant and pheromone blockers onto Neil, continuing to beat into him the importance of hiding his secondary gender, claiming that it would make him less noticeable.
A familiar scent brought Neil away from his thoughts. He turned to see Coach Hernandez standing in the doorway, the locker room door squeaking as the coach pushed it open. Instinctively, he pulled his duffle closer to his side as Hernandez made himself comfortable beside Neil.
“I didn’t see your parents at the game,” Hernandez said as he grabbed the cigarette from Neil’s hand and dropped it to the bleachers before grinding it out.
“They’re out of town,” Neil replied.
Without the added smell of smoke in the air, Neil could smell the distinct note of alpha pheromones radiating from Coach Hernandez along with the man’s unique scent. It was subtle and calm, not overpressing like other alphas.
Like all omegas, Neil had a sensitive sense of smell that could easily pick up subtleties from others’ pheromones, such as their mood. Alphas, from what Neil understood, tended to only pick up the pheromones of those under high distress or anger, while betas could not smell pheromones at all.
“Still or again?” Hernandez questioned, turning a calm gaze on Neil.
Neither, Neil thought. “I’ll call them with the score tonight,” Neil said to placate the alpha. Hernandez hummed and tilted his head back slightly to glance at the door.
“There’s someone here to see you,” Hernandez said. In reflex, Neil’s body tensed to either run or fight, and he clenched his duffle tighter while instinctively scenting the air. A strange scent came down from behind them, and Neil quickly stood to stare at the newcomer.
“He’s a college scout looking to sign you,” Hernandez continued as he stood up, unaware of Neil’s concealed panic.
Neil eyed the large man standing in the doorway of the locker room. The man’s muscled arms were covered in tribal flame tattoos that were crossed over his wife-beater-clad chest. He had tan skin, dark hair, and light brown eyes that stayed trained on Neil’s tightly wound form like he knew the player was ready to bolt.
“Bullshit. No one recruits from Millport,” Neil retorted. He felt his omega raise their hackles once he realized the stranger was an alpha, urging him to react.
Hernandez sent Neil a look that said to calm the colorful language, but Neil ignored him, not bothering to take his eyes off the man he didn’t know was a threat or not. “I sent him your file. I figured it was worth a shot and didn’t tell you in case it fell through. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.” Neil cut his eyes quickly from the stranger to Hernandez and back again; the grip on his duffle was tightening by the second.
“I don’t have time to lose, kid. I need an answer tonight. The board is breathing down my neck to replace Janie. And from what Coach Hernandez tells me, you don’t have any other options,” the stranger finally spoke, his voice gruff and deep.
Neil’s already rolling stomach swooped to his shoes at the name. Janie Smalls was a striker set to play for Palmetto State University, but the last Neil heard, she was in a psychiatric ward for a suicide attempt.
“Foxes,” Neil whispered with growing horror.
The man Neil now knows to be Coach David Wymack raised his eyebrows in surprise at how fast Neil caught on. “I guess you heard the news,” Wymack muttered.
Neil heard the news alright; it seemed as if the Foxes could never stay out of it. The Palmetto State University Foxes were a ragtag bunch of talented rejects and junkies. David Wymack only recruited kids from broken homes and unseemly pasts, using the Foxhole Court as a halfway home to turn these kids’ lives around.
Being ranked dead last the past three years, combined with their players’ colorful backgrounds, made the Foxes the laughing stock of the NCAA Exy League but a favorite of the critics.
The Foxes’ media exposure significantly increased when they signed national champion Kevin Day. It was the greatest thing that could happen to the Foxes, and it also meant that Neil could never accept Wymack’s offer.
Neil had known Kevin when they were pups. He hasn’t seen him in eight years and will never see him again if Neil knew what was good for him. Some doors had to stay closed; Neil’s life depended on it.
“You can’t be here,” Neil said tightly.
“Yet here I stand,” Wymack said. “Need a pen?”
“No,” Neil replied, “I’m not playing for you.”
“I believe I have misheard you.”
“You signed Kevin.”
“And Kevin is signing you so—”
Neil didn’t wait for the rest. Holding fast to his duffle, he bolted up the bleachers towards the locker room door. Pushing past Wymack, Neil ran through the locker room and into the lounge. Instantly, he was swarmed with a thousand scents, clogging his senses.
Neil didn’t look back to see if they were following. All that was important was getting out of there and finding the closest Greyhound station. Neil began to forget graduation, to forget Neil Josten, to forget Exy. The only thing that was on his mind was which state to travel to first and where the closest pheromone blocker dealer would be.
Distracted by his thoughts and the scents swarming from the lockers around him, it was too late when Neil realized that he wasn’t alone. Someone was waiting for him in the lounge between him and the door.
Light glinted off a yellow exy racquet as the stranger took a swing, and Neil was going too fast to stop. Wood slammed into his gut hard enough to crush his lungs into his spine. He didn’t remember falling, but suddenly, he was on his hands and knees, scrabbling at the floor as he tried to breathe.
The buzzing in his ears was Wymack’s angry voice, “God damn it, Andrew! This is why we can’t have nice things.”
“If he were nice, he wouldn’t be of any use to us, now would he?” Someone said to Wymack over Neil’s head.
“He’s no use to us broken either.”
“Put a band-aid on him, and he will be as good as new. He will never survive Kevin if he can’t handle this.”
“You leave me to worry about what he can and cannot handle.”
The world came back into focus as Neil greedily gulped air into his abused lungs. He breathed in so hard he began to choke, harsh coughs broke from his mouth as he struggled to stand. A hand came into his vision too quickly, and he flung himself back against the wall for support.
Regaining his focus, he noticed Wymack retract his offered hand. Neil stood on shaky legs and wrapped an arm around his middle as he hiked his duffle and scant belongings back onto his shoulder.
Andrew?
Wymack must have been referring to Andrew Minyard, Neil thought as he glanced up to see the man in question leaning on the stolen racquet, head cocked as he regarded Neil.
The starting goalkeeper for the Palmetto State Foxes didn’t seem like much. Standing at five feet even with shockingly light blonde hair and hazel eyes, but Neil knew better. Andrew Minyard was the Foxes’ deadliest investment yet. Whereas most of the Fox recruits were self-destructive, Andrew seemed keen on collateral damage. He had spent a year in juvie and barely escaped another term. However, Andrew was the only person to turn down the first-ranked Edgar Allan University.
If the rumors were to be true, Riko Moriyama, the starting striker for Edgar Allan and Kevin Day’s former teammate, flew out with Kevin himself to meet with Andrew, but the goalie decided to join the dead-last Foxes instead. Most fans theorized that it was due to Wymack offering positions to Andrew’s family as well: his twin brother, Aaron, and cousin Nicholas Hemmick.
Kevin had played for Edgar Allan’s Ravens until last December when he shattered his dominant hand in a skiing accident. After that, to everyone’s surprise, Kevin moved to Palmetto, where he became Wymack’s assistant coach for the spring season. He eventually signed up to be a starting player just three weeks ago.
Neil had spent weeks in the school library digging up everything he could find out about Andrew Minyard and why he caught Kevin’s attention. Seeing him in person was disorienting. Neil looked up into his emotionless face and tried to scent him out. While Neil knew from his research that Andrew was an alpha, he could barely smell his pheromones. Andrew had a scent as everyone does, smelling of cedar, pine, and cigarettes, but his alpha pheromones were near non-existent.
For once, his omega was quiet on the matter.
“Better luck next time,” said Andrew as he tapped a two-finger salute to his right temple.
“Fuck you,” Neil spat.
“I don’t think you could handle me,” replied Andrew apathetically, his pierced eyebrow raised in mockery.
Neil regained his full composure and sent a scathing look to the blonde. “Whose racquet did you steal?”
“I prefer the term borrow,” Andrew said, tossing the racquet to Neil, “see, I gave it back.”
“Nice fetch. Do you come housebroken as well?” Neil asked as he snatched the racquet out of the air. Something flashed behind Andrews’s eyes, but it was gone in an instant as he fiddled with the sleeves of his black armbands.
“I think that’s enough,” Wymack stated as he moved to stand between Neil and Andrew.
“But Coach, we were just getting started,” Andrew retorted blankly.
“And you can pick it back up later if Neil decides to sign the team, but you are not helping our case,” replied Wymack. Andrew took a minute to consider before he backed away a few paces. It wasn’t a full surrender to the older alpha, Neil thought, but more of a concession.
“You good, kid?” Asked Hernandez, the scent of worry wafting from him.
“I’m fine,” Neil replied as he pressed his hands against his ribs in a practiced manner. No ribs were broken, but definitely bruised by the feel of it.
Andrew eyed Neil’s ministrations, “Interesting,” he murmured. Neil cut a glare at Andrew before remembering his mother’s caution to blend in, not to draw attention to himself, and dropped the look from his face as he turned to face the coaches. Andrews’s eyes never left Neil’s still recovering body.
“I’m leaving,” Neil said, making his way to the door.
“We’re not done,” Wymack said.
“Coach Wymack—” Hernandez started.
“Give us a minute?” Wymack asked.
Hernandez nodded hesitantly, “I’ll be in my office,” he replied as he pointedly looked toward Neil before walking away.
“I already gave you my answer. I won’t sign for you,” stated Neil.
“You didn’t listen to the whole offer,” Wymack said. “If I paid to fly three people out here to see you, the least you could do is give me five minutes.” Blood drained from Neil so fast that he became lightheaded again.
“You didn’t bring him here,” said Neil. Why would he come all the way to Arizona to see someone like Neil?
“Is that a problem?” Wymack asked, crossing his tattooed arms over his broad chest as he stared hard at Neil.
Neil couldn’t tell him the truth, so he said, “I’m not good enough to play with a champion.”
“True, but irrelevant,” a new voice said. Neil stopped breathing. He slowly turned around to face the new voice he already knew belonged to Kevin Day.
Suddenly, Neil’s past converged with his future. Although it had been eight years since they had been in the same room together, since they saw Neil’s father cut a screaming man into a hundred bloody pieces, Kevin’s face was as familiar as his own.
Neil had followed and watched Kevin grow into stardom, keeping clippings of news articles and following up on the internet as much as he could over the years on the run.
Everything about him was the same, and yet everything was different.
Kevin was still a tall, tan bastard with dark hair, green eyes, and a number two tattooed on his left cheek. A permanent fixture from when they were pups of Kevin and Riko drawing their respective number one and number two on their cheeks with markers.
Neil hadn’t understood the symbolism back then. All he knew was that Riko had promised they would be the best in Exy—that they would be famous—and he was right. Riko and Kevin had professional teams scouting them since they started high school and continued on to play for Edgar Allan in college. Last year, they were inducted into the U.S. Court—the youngest to ever play on the team.
They were champions, and Neil was nothing but a lie.
Kevin was always pretentious asshole, but Neil remembered light being behind Kevin’s eyes, of happy laughs after scrimmages with Riko and their little league.
The man before him now bore no resemblance to the carefree pup that Neil had known.
Neil had heard from keeping up with Kevin’s career that the old Raven striker had presented as an alpha, but smelling it was a different experience. He still smelled of pepper, vanilla, and cypress, but now there was a scent of strong and overpowering alpha pheromones that made Neil’s omega want to surrender. To bare his neck and kneel.
But Neil didn’t kneel for anyone.
He concentrated on fighting the urge; he couldn’t let them know that he was bothered by their pheromones since he was feigning to be a beta.
He hadn’t been surprised when he heard the news of Kevin’s presentation a few years back. Neil had known from when they were pups that Kevin and Riko would both present as alphas, and he had been correct.
Kevin was seated atop the lounge entertainment center with the TV pushed back to accommodate the many files spread around him. Neil prayed Kevin didn’t recognize him or remember his natural scent, which his pheromone blockers did nothing to conceal. The dyed brown hair and brown contacts would have to be enough of a disguise.
But why else would Kevin be looking for him? Neil’s school records showed that he had only been playing Exy for a year. He even took the liberty of hauling around How-To books throughout the fall semester to keep to his story. There was no other explanation for Kevin coming to recruit him other than the alpha recognizing his childhood friend from the file Hernandez had sent.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, pushing the words through numb lips as he clenched his fists around the strap to his duffle to stop their shaking.
“Why are you leaving?” Kevin asked in reply.
“I asked first.”
Kevin scoffed as he smoothly jumped off the entertainment center, disturbing the air with his alpha pheromones, heavy with the scent of annoyance. Neil tensed as he realized he was surrounded by three unknown alphas, and his omega began to raise their hackles in resurgence. He forced himself to remain calm; he didn’t think they were here to hurt him.
“To answer your question, we are waiting for you to sign a contract, so stop wasting our time,” Kevin replied.
Backing up, Neil subtly moved himself to where he could keep all three alphas within his vision, “No, there are a thousand strikers you could have chosen.”
“We saw their files, and yet we chose you,” Wymack stated calmly.
“I won’t play with Kevin,” Neil said as he cut his eyes to Andrew, who began to fiddle with his armbands again.
“You will,” Kevin said as he sent a look toward Andrew that Neil couldn’t decipher, “or this will be the last time you play Exy again. We know you have no other offers, and we should have thrown out your coach’s letter once we saw your inexperience. This is not what we wanted for the Foxes this year. But your coach was smart. He didn’t send your statistics; he sent your game tapes. And you play like you have everything to lose. That’s what I am looking to sign for.”
His inexperience. If Kevin remembered him from their youth, he would have known that the file was fake since they played Little League together. Kevin would have remembered the scrimmage interrupted by a man’s death.
Relief smoothed Neil’s taut muscles, and he took his first deep breath since entering the room, ignoring the cloying scent of alphas. Neil rubbed his hand along the strap of his duffle, trying to calm himself further. He rapidly began to think things through.
Kevin could be lying about not knowing Neil, but why would he?
“Anything else, or are you ready to sign?” Wymack said, dropping a stack of papers down onto a table situated against the far wall.
Neil knew the smart thing to do was to bail; it was what his mother would do. The Foxes spent too much time in the news for him to stay safe. Leaving meant living, but Neil’s way of living was survival and nothing more. It was new names and new places, and never looking back. It was packing up and going as soon as he started to feel settled. This last year, without his mother, meant being completely alone and adrift. He didn’t know if he was ready for that again.
Neil craved a sense of belonging. Wymack’s contract was a chance for that. Of a new start, a future. The chance to pretend to be normal for a little while longer.
“Well?” Wymack asked. And Neil’s omega and survival instincts battled against one another. One told him to stay, and the other told him to flee, bringing a deliberating panic to Neil’s chest.
Not knowing what to say, Neil replied, “I need to talk to my mother.”
“What for? You’re legal, aren’t you? The file says you’re nineteen,” Wymack asked. Neil was actually eighteen, but he couldn’t blow his cover.
“I still need to ask.”
“I’m sure she will be happy for you.”
“Maybe,” Neil mumbled, but she definitely would not. “I’ll ask tonight.”
“We can give you a life home,” Wymack said. The man was persistent; Neil had to give him that.
“I’m fine,” Neil said.
Wymack sighed and looked towards the other Foxes, “Go wait in the car.” Kevin and Andrew didn’t need to be told twice, walking out the door without comment.
“You need one of us to talk to your parents?” Wymack asked.
“I’m fine,” Neil retorted again.
“Are they the ones who hurt you?” Wymack asked without subtlety. Puzzled, Neil looked at Wymack, confused by the question.
“I’m asking because Coach Hernandez guesses that you spend several nights a week sleeping in the locker room. He thinks some things are going on at home since you won’t change out in front of others or let anyone meet your parents. That’s why he nominated you to me; he thinks you fit the line. You know the people I look for?”
Neil gave a shaky nod in understanding.
“I don’t know if he’s right,” Wymack continued, “but something tells me I’m not far off the mark. Now, the locker room will be shut down for the summer once school ends. If your parents are a problem for you, we can move you to South Carolina early.”
“You’ll do what?” Neil asked, surprised.
“Andrew’s lot stays with Abby, our team nurse. Her place is full, but you can always crash on my couch till the dorms open in June. It’s not much, but it will beat a locker room bench. We can tell the team you came early for conditioning. Chances are that half won’t believe it, and you won’t be able to fool most. But Foxes are Foxes for a reason, and they know we wouldn’t sign you if you didn’t qualify.”
It took Neil a few times to force out the word “Why?”
Coach Wymack was quiet for a moment. “Did you think I made the Foxes the way it is for a publicity stunt? It’s about second chances, Neil. Second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as you get at least one more than anyone else wanted to give you.”
Neil had heard Wymack being referred to as an idiotic fool. But as Neil stood there, he thought it was hard not to listen to the sincerity in his voice and smell the truth in his scent. Neil was torn; why would Wymack set himself up for disappointment again and again? Neil would have given up the Foxes years ago.
“So I’ll ask again. Are your parents going to be a problem?” Wymack asked.
It felt like too much and everything he wanted at once. He gave a small nod, and it hurt to see the tired look settle in Wymack’s eyes. It wasn’t a look of pity like Neil sees from time to time in Hernandez, but understanding.
“Your graduation ceremony is on May 11th. We will have someone pick you up from the Airport on Friday, the 12th. I will fax a copy of your plane ticket to your Coach tonight.”
He gave another shaky nod.
“Keep the papers,” Wymack continued as he grabbed the stack off the table and handed them to Neil, “Hernandez can send them over once you’ve signed. Welcome to the lineup, Josten.”
“Thank you,” was all Neil could choke out, but it seemed appropriate. He kept his eyes trained on the contract in his hands as he heard Wymack leave the room, probably in search of Coach Hernandez. Once he heard the door bang closed, Neil bolted for the bathroom, just making it to the stall before he began to dry heave. He could only imagine Mary’s rage if she knew what he was doing as he felt the ghost of her hands yanking at his hair.
“I’m sorry,” Neil said through wet coughs, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He stumbled to the sink to wash his face and rinse out his mouth. Neil glanced up at the mirror to stare into brown eyes that were not his own and drew in a ragged breath.
“University,” he said quietly. It sounded like a dream; it tasted like damnation.
Neil unzipped his duffle to put the paperwork away and returned to the main room. The two coaches were there waiting for him, and they turned to the door that led outside.
Andrew opened the back door to Hernandez’s SUV when Neil passed and said with a blank face, “Too good to play with us, too good to ride with us?”
Neil sent him a cool look and sped to a jog, his ever-present duffle bouncing at his hip. By the time he reached the edge of the parking lot, he was at a full run. He left the Foxes and too-good promises behind him, but the unsigned contract in his bag felt like an anchor around his neck.