Built For Almost

The weekend rolled in slowly, like honey poured into a glass.

Coach Langley had decided-perhaps miraculously-that the team had earned a day off. No drills. No sprints. No early morning yelling. A group outing had been planned, the kind that usually involved a bunch of athletic boys trying to act like they weren't exhausted from weeks of brutal training.

Neil sat by the window of the van as they drove, his head leaning against the cool glass, Zay's leg warm and steady beside his. A few guys were already half-asleep. Someone was snoring. Callum was at the back, earbuds in, eyes closed. It had been a while since he tried to corner Neil in conversation again. Maybe he'd finally taken the hint. Or maybe Zay's death glare had done the job.

The van slowed. They were headed toward the lake a few miles out of campus-a local spot the team visited once or twice a year when Langley was in a forgiving mood. There were trails. A grill. Even paddle boards.

It felt... normal.

And Neil couldn't remember the last time something had felt normal without feeling fake.

...

The grill was already sizzling by the time Neil stepped out of the van. The guys were unloading chairs, speakers and frisbees. Music spilled into the clearing-nothing too loud, just enough to hum along to. Zay immediately disappeared to help build the fire pit, sleeves rolled up, back flexing as he lifted crates of bottled water and gear like it was nothing.

Neil hovered at the edge for a minute. Watching.

He wasn't sure what to do with himself, standing in the sun, not running. Not training. Just existing.

"Yo, Alister," someone called from the circle. Devon, grinning, burger in one hand, soda in the other. "You coming to lose to me in a cornhole or what?"

Neil smirked, just a little. "Only if you wanna embarrass yourself."

Zay looked up from the fire pit, eyes locking with Neil's from across the grass. He didn't say anything. But he didn't need to. The look said it all: You're okay. You're here. You're doing this.

Neil looked away before his chest could crack open again.

...

Hours passed.

Someone had tried to flip a paddle board and failed miserably. There was grilled corn, too many chips, and a lot of laughter. Neil sat near the tree line, hoodie sleeves rolled up, sipping from a can of peach soda. His leg didn't ache today. Not really. Just a dull hum that he could ignore.

Zay dropped down beside him in the grass. They sat shoulder to shoulder, not touching but not far.

"You've been quiet today," Zay said.

Neil shrugged. "Not in a bad way."

Zay gave a small nod. "You look lighter."

"I feel... less like I'm about to implode," Neil admitted, watching the sun flicker through the trees. "That's new."

Zay leaned back on his elbows. "Good new?"

Neil let the breeze run over him. "Yeah. I think it is."

For a while, they didn't talk. They didn't have to.

Somewhere behind them, one of the guys shouted, "Alister's smiling! Someone write that down!"

Neil rolled his eyes.

Zay just smirked. "Told you. You smile differently around me."

Neil shot him a look. "You gonna make everything about you?"

"Only the parts that already are."

...

They got back to the dorms after dark.

Everyone was sun-warmed, half-burnt, and full of food. A few guys scattered toward the showers. Neil lingered by Zay's door.

"Want to hang out?" he asked, voice quiet.

Zay stepped aside without a word.

They didn't do much. Just music low in the background, a movie neither of them really watched, Zay changing into a worn T-shirt, Neil curling into the bed like his bones ached in a good way. Eventually, Neil tucked himself next to Zay again, like they were gravity-pulled.

No pressure. No intensity.

Just warmth.

Zay traced a thumb over Neil's knuckles absently.

"You okay?" he asked.

Neil nodded into Zay's chest. "Yeah. I just... I think I like this version of us."

Zay's heart thudded beneath his shirt. "Me too."