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“What does it mean?” Kevin’s voice rang out in the silence of the room. WYmack jolted and looked up. He was standing in the doorway of his office, staring at a tapestry hanging on the wall. It was worn, with more than a few tatters and the colors were faded to a soft pastel. Wymack looked up from his computer and then over his shoulder at the tapestry. It had the design of a circle, cut into four pieces, each piece a different color, with words in Cherokee printed under it. He looked back at his son and smiled softly, almost sadly, but it was gone before Kevin could think more of it. He pushed away from his desk to stand and run a hand over the soft fabric. “It’s the four sacred directions, some people call it the medicine wheel.” He watched as Kevin cocked his head to the side before walking, almost hesitantly, across the room to join Wymack. He stood beside him, staring intently at the tapestry. “North, East, West, South?” He asked, taking the corner of the tapestry between in his hand and letting it slip between his fingers. Wymack chuckled, “Yes but no. It means a lot of things and they’re different for other tribes. But the most common, for most natives, for us” He slid a heavy look at Kevin and he shifted under his gaze, “is that they represent the four seasons, four elements, and four phases of life. To me, it’s a reminder of change, of loss and rebirth.” Wymack suddenly looks a million miles away, suddenly transported back to a world over twenty years ago, a phone pressed to his ear, a voice telling him that her son was not his. Every moment he spent watching Kevin, seeing himself mirrored in his face, and berating himself for his wishful thinking. But, in some stroke of fate, Kevin actually was his son, and he was here now, standing beside Wymack and wanting to know about his culture, something that had been denied to him his entire life. He had loved Kayleigh, but he hated her for that. He can’t help the burning resentment that builds like bile in his throat when he thinks about what she stole from their son. Their history, their language, the powwows David could’ve taken him to, the things he could have taught him, the community he lost. He subtly shakes himself out of his memories and what could’ve been, taking his grief by the scruff and throwing it out into the cold. He turns to look at his son, tracing his eyes over his high cheekbones and the green eyes Kayleigh gave him. Staring at him as if he could memorize every strand of the thick black hair brushing the tops of his ears. He resists the urge to run his fingers through his own cropped hair. He had kept it short most of his life, only starting to grow it out when he was with Kayleigh, and then he had cut it off after hearing of her passing, full of grief and vowing to never love again. But now, he wanted to grow it out, to start fresh with the memories he would make with Kevin. Each new growth of hair symbolizing growth with his son. The silence between them rang loud as a bell, and Kevin shuffled wordlessly over to the bookshelf shoved into the corner of the room, running his fingers almost reverently across the titles. Surprisingly, he skipped the exy related ones, instead tracing the raised lettering on the spines of Wymack’s indigenous related books. There was an entire shelf devoted to native books, ranging from history to Cherokee language, and a few worn fiction novels. Wymack followed him to the shelves, like most of the conversations he had with Kevin after the reveal, he was struggling to find his footing, “You can borrow any if you want.” Kevin looked at him in shock and then continued to reverently trace the books, before turning to Wymack. “For so long… I never knew. Riko had always said I was probably Japanese like him, the bastard of someone working under Ichirou,” He took a deep, shaky breath, “I want to learn.” He turned to face Wymack, staring at him with an intensity he had only seen in Kevin when it came to Exy, “Will you teach me? Will you tell me about it all?” He resisted the tears building in his eyes, “Everything. Anything you want to know, it’s yours. It should’ve been yours all along. You should’ve been raised on our culture, knowing our history better than you know the exy court.” Kevin smiled softly and shifted his gaze away, plucking a book from the shelves and roving his eyes over the cover like it held the secrets to the universe. “I’m sorry.” He muttered, and Wymack didn’t have to take too long to guess what he was apologizing for. They both had regrets, but he knew why Kevin hadn’t told him he was Wymack’s son, the insecurities he held, the fear of rejection, and he was long past being mad about it. He lifted his hand to rest it on Kevin’s shoulder, waiting for him to meet his gaze again. He didn’t quite have the words to express how he felt. The sorrow of losing Kayleigh, of thinking Kevin wasn’t his but wishing so desperately he was. The grief he felt over the years he had lost with his son, the hollowness in his heart when he thought too long on all the things he had missed in Kevin’s life. But he didn’t want to mourn the rest of his life, he didn’t want to feel grief when Kevin was right in front of him, asking for their history, reaching out to connect. He tugged Kevin toward him, pulling him in for a hug, and holding him tight. “I’m sorry son.” He was sorry for not pressing Kayleigh, for not insisting on a test, or trying to be in his life regardless. He was sorry for all Kevin had faced and lost, for all he had gone through. For not being there to shield him from it. They pulled apart, both blinking away tears and avoiding eye contact, rubbing subtly at their eyes. Kevin reached out to touch the tapestry again, running his fingers along the outer edge of the circle, tracing the Cherokee lettering under the circle and vowing to himself to learn what they meant.
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Art by @doesephs_ on twitter
art by @dawnatlas on tumblr and @dawnatlas_ on twitter
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Kevin was standing in the kitchen, aggressively shaking a blender bottle full of protein powder, when he felt a tug at his hair. He turned around with a small grin, smoothing it back down with a swipe of his hand. Andrew was standing behind him, analyzing him with a look he couldn’t decipher. “It’s gotten long,” He stated, and Kevin tugged self-consciously at a lock of his hair. It was down past his shoulders now. He had been letting it grow for well over a year now, ever since he had told his father the truth about himself. Ever since that talk in his office and the beginning of this burning feeling building in his chest, the bone-deep yearning he felt. Andrew was silent for a moment, and Kevin floundered for what to say. He knew he had a reason for bringing it up, that something was on his mind about Kevin’s hair. He watched as Andrew hummed, reaching out and pinching the hem of Kevin’s shirt to tug at it gently before turning and walking out of their kitchen. He knew that was Andrew-speak for “follow me.” He sat down his blender bottle and walked after him. Andrew sat on the couch and pointed at the floor in front of him. “What…?” Kevin said, folding to the hardwood in front of the couch. Andrew pushed at his shoulders until his back was to him, and then he felt the man’s fingers start combing through his hair.“Neil and I are tired of your lumpy ponytails during practice and games. They're a disgrace.” He said behind him, fingers sending tingles down his spine with each stroke of his hair. Kevin had never gotten the hang of making his hair look smooth when he pulled it back. The angle it took for his hands to pull his hair back made them ache too much for him to care too much about how it looked. It took him another beat to realize what Andrew was doing. He was separating his hair into thick strands and then deftly moving them into one thick braid. He felt a shiver spread throughout his body, and his heart thrummed so loud he was surprised the man behind him didn’t hear it. He was suddenly struck with the memory of one of the pictures Wymack had framed in his office, a picture of a younger version of his father standing beside his mother, hair tucked into a smooth braid pulled over his shoulder and resting against his chest. He wanted that. He wanted that symbol of his heritage, a symbol of his connection and all the memories he had made with it. Somehow, Andrew had seen that want before he knew he wanted and even needed it. Andrew had seen into his core and taken action.He heard the snap of a band as his partner wrapped a tie around the end of the braid, and then he felt his deft fingers wrapping around his braid and pulling his head back, ghosting a kiss across the top of his head. -—-Pre-game anticipation was thrumming in his veins, but Kevin couldn’t get in the zone. He felt a cramp already working its way into his hand as he swiftly moved strands of hair into what he knew would be one of the ugliest braids he had ever done. He could practically hear Andrew’s eye roll, but there were a handful of people he wanted touching his hair, and none of them were on the pro team he had recently transferred to. He was ready to give up and do another signature lumpy ponytail when the locker room doors burst open with a bang. He looked up to see Neil standing in the doorway with a wide grin. “How in the hell did security even let you back here?” He asked, a grin already spreading across his lips at the sight of his partner. His partner who was playing on the opposite team as him tonight. “They can’t say no to this winning smile,” Neil said and gave one of his famous unsettling “butcher” smiles. Kevin resisted a shudder at the sight of it. “Now, come here before we’re both late.” He demanded.Kevin was in front of him in a few strides and was spun around by his scarred hands, practically forced to crouch in front of Neil as he started to tug his hair free of the disgrace of a braid he had done earlier. “God, Day, what did you do to your beautiful hair??” He asked mock dismay in his voice. His fingers moved swiftly, and no matter how many times his partners braided, touched, and ran their fingers through his hair, it never failed to send shivers through his body. Some of his favorite moments were resting his head on their laps as they stroked his hair and scratched at his scalp. Andrew and Neil liked to say he was another one of their cats. He was broken out of his thoughts by the snap of a band, and Neil tugged at his braid, using it to pull him down and into a deep kiss.“I’ll see you on the court Day,” Neil mumbled against his lips and broke free, tossing his braid in his face before spinning around and disappearing behind the locker room doors as fast as he had appeared. Kevin shook himself out of the cloud of domesticity and walked after him to join his team.