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Overwhelming And Overcoming > 10 <

That following night Neil was overthinking again.

The weather was warm the whole day through. Neil wore his black shorts and a grey baggy tee.

He had spent the last few hours thinking about a visit at the beach. He would prove himself to Andrew then.

He stared at the clean white wall, at nothing specific, but he remained in thought.

Did he even remember how to swim? When had been the last time?

If he got swimtrunks... would he still want to hide the scars underneath a baggy shirt?

What if it was just him and Andrew?
Andrew knew more about him nonetheless, even if Neil had rattled down his whole life story in front of the other Foxes, too.

They knew about his scars, but without details.
They hadn't run their hands over each one, like the blonde goalkeeper did. They hadn't asked for it. They hadn't seen them.

Would they ask about every single one? The bullet and the brandmark his father gave him to remember?

What if someone else saw his marks of fighting and punishment?

Would Neil try to run again? Would his head get louder until his legs joined in on the speed if his heartbeat?

"Andrew", Neil said. He turned his head to look at the blonde laying on the small couch. A cushion with soft blue ornaments each under his head and under his legs; surely comfortable, at least it looked like it.

Andrew looked at Neil.

"Can I ... try something?", Neil hesitantly asked, his eyes holding the gaze of the hazel orbs on his opposite. Yet somehow emotionless but with interest.

The blonde sat up slowly, leaning forwards on his elbows, eyeing Neil critically. Checking, making sure.

Andrew continued to stare unless Neil spoke and explained, his voice unsteady and words unsure.
"I want to go to the beach... Will you accompany me?"

The goalkeeper knocked up his eyebrows an inch, then opened his mouth. What came out first was a sigh.
Neil assumed Andrew was fighting himself to come to terms with an answer.
The blonde finally took defeat. It took him two tries to find his tongue, though.
"Let's go", he retaliated after a minute or so, then added, "get a towel"

Neil let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Not long after, Neil stood in front of the white door with a light jacket on. One of the soft towels the resort provided hanging over his left arm.

Andrew stood behind him a second later, Neil took in the soft smell of cigarettes and the other man's general scent. It was calming.

He pushed down the handle.

The night air carried the scent of salt through the doorway and tangled in Neil's auburn hair.
He breathed in and out deeply, then started walking.

The striker's eyes were trained on the ground where the stone path snaked down to the beach about 20 feet away.

The moonlight was cast in specked spots through the tree tops, being the only light source beside the lampposts next to their bungalow.

Small waves crashed on the beach ahead, the only sound for the while being.

Neil shivered but was determined enough to keep walking. He looked up for the first time, the sight of water twisting his stomach in a way that made him feel sick.

He felt Andrew's presence and that pushed him forward. It was somehow, somewhat grounding.
He kept walking. Slowly they got closer.

Neil's breath became faster as they approached, so he took deep breaths to keep himself from slipping.