The Foxhole Court

He set his standards impossibly high and tried for them with everything he had, and he didn't understand why others wouldn't do the same

"Morning, sunshine," Matt said with exaggerated cheer.
"Fuck you," Kevin said.
Dan yawned into her hand. "Glad to see you're still a morning person."
"Fuck you too."

He was something solid to lean against, something violent and fierce and unmoving. Neil couldn't remember what it felt like to have someone hold him up. It was terrifying and liberating all at once.

Neil Josten let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag. He didn't want the nicotine; he wanted the acrid smoke that reminded him of his mother. If he inhaled slowly enough, he could almost taste the ghost of gasoline and fire. It was at once revolting and comforting, and it sent a sick shudder down his spine. The jolt went all the way to his fingertips, dislodging a clump of ash. It fell to the bleachers between his shoes and was whisked away by the wind.

"Hey, Nicky," Andrew said in stage-whisper German. "Don't touch him, you understand?"
"You know I'd never hurt him. If he says yes—"
"I said no."

You gave your game to Kevin. Give your back to me.

"What would it take to make you stay?"
The question was so unexpected Neil had to turn back. "What?"
Andrew laughed quietly at his shock and leaned forward. "Name it and it's yours. It doesn't matter what it is so long as you stand your ground here with us."

Don't touch my things, Riko. I don't share

"Such an unexpected will to survive from someone who has nothing to live for.

You'll make me want to break you."
"You?" Neil said. "You can't."
Andrew's smile curved wider. "Ohhh, that sounds like a challenge.