Built For Almost

38. Breathing In The Pressure

It wasn't just tension anymore. It was war in whispers and tight smiles. And the entire team could feel it.

By midday, Neil was leaning against the fence, gasping for air, his knee aching with that old familiar throb.

Zay tossed him a towel and didn't speak. He didn't have to. His fingers brushed Neil's as he passed him a protein bar, and the contact grounded Neil in a way nothing else could.

That evening, Coach Langley gave the team a short speech that sounded more like a warning than motivation.

"One week," he said. "Seven days. That's all you have left to show me you're ready. That you're not just chasing a time, but earning it."

Neil sat still through the entire thing, biting the inside of his cheek. He knew what Langley was really saying.

He was watching.

All of them.

Especially Neil.

...

Later that night, Neil curled up on Zay's bed like it was his own bed, although he could sleep in the top bunk.

They didn't talk much. The silence was comfortable now.

Zay sat beside him, tapping something into his notes app-training feedback, likely-but his free hand found Neil's thigh, and his thumb moved in small, idle circles like he didn't even realize he was doing it.

"I've been thinking about what happens after," Neil murmured.

"After?"

"The race. The season. The team, I guess."

Zay paused. Then, "What about it?"

Neil turned his face toward him, voice quieter now. "I don't want it to end."

Zay met his eyes. And in the low lamplight, something unspoken stretched between them.

"It doesn't have to," Zay said, like it was obvious. "If we don't want it to."

Neil swallowed hard. "You make it sound simple."

"It is," Zay said. "You're not getting rid of me."

Neil closed his eyes. "Good."

...

The next morning, Langley ran individual time trials.

Neil stood at the start again, fingers twitching, heart doing backflips. His knee was taped. His lungs already burned from anticipation alone.

Zay passed him a look as he walked off the track from his own lap-he was fast, obviously-
but he didn't say a word. He didn't need to. Neil had spent enough nights with Zay beside him to know exactly what that look meant.

Trust yourself.

When the whistle blew, Neil ran like hell.

He wasn't the fastest. Not that day. But he was consistent. Clean form. Strong finish. He didn't collapse when he hit the line. He didn't cry. He just stared at the sky and felt something like pride tighten in his chest.

He had made it.

...

Back in the room that night, he barely made it up to Zay's dorm before collapsing on the bed, not his, obviously.

"You're gross," Zay muttered. "Get in the shower."

"Too tired," Neil mumbled. "Come and get me."

"You'll suffocate me in that hoodie if I try."

"Meanie."

And he came back a few minutes later. Of course, wearing another one of his hoodies.

Eventually.

They lay tangled in silence for a while, bodies curled close under the blanket. Neil's head rested against Zay's shoulder, heart finally slowing from the day's storm.

"I was scared," Neil admitted into the dark.

"I know."

"I'm still scared."

"That's fine."

Neil looked up. "You're not going to tell me not to be?"

"No," Zay whispered. "Because I'll be scared too. And we'll still do it anyway."

Neil exhaled shakily, then pressed his forehead to Zay's collarbone.

"I think I love you," he breathed.

Zay stilled.

And then, "Good."

Neil laughed, soft and stunned. "That's all you're gonna say?"

"No," Zay whispered, fingers threading through Neil's red hair.

"You're mine," he said again, firmer this time. "That's not changing."