Work Text:
There is music in Faber. Not the usual game-day get-hyped mix that he was used to when they tested the sound system. It was beautiful - swelling cello, melancholy and then building speed and drive. It gets under Jack’s skin, makes his palms sweat. He wonders if it would offend whoever’s playing it if he asked them to shut it off. He bypasses the locker room in favor of following the sound, and when he sees the figure on the ice, he almost thinks he’s dreaming. The music, the scrape of skates, echoing in the rafters is eerie. In flashes of blonde hair and black clothing, the skater is a phantom, toying with Jack’s memories. But he can’t leave.
Nobody else has ever been on the ice before Jack’s usual practice time. He finds himself equal parts afraid and intrigued as the ma makes graceful leaps, moving too fast to get the impression of a face. Slowly, he descends through the stands until he is braced against the gate, fingers clutching tightly at the door. The music ends, skater coming to a flourishing stop at center ice, toe pick dug into the faceoff dot. Jack’s shoulders fall with the sudden “woosh” of his breath. His gear bag slips and falls to the ground, the thud of it snapping the man’s attention to Jack.
They regard each other with wide, terrified eyes.
“Um. Sorry,” the guy says.
“No, no. I uh - I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“I didn’t know anyone was using the rink.”
“Oh.”
“I thought maintenence put music on.”
“No, that - That was me.”
“I see.” The guy fidgeted. “You’re good.”
“Well...Thank you.”
“I mean it. That was beautiful.” The skater blushed.
“You’re too kind.”
“I’m really not.” They continued to stare at each other.
“I should probably get out of your way then.”
“You - uh - you don’t have to.”
“Hm?”
“We could split the ice. I don’t really need a whole rink for my thing. Was just gonna shoot some pucks.”
“You’re on the hockey team.” It wasn’t a question. Jack nodded anyway.
“I’m Jack.”
“Eric.”
“Nice to meet you.” Jack tried to smile. Eric smiled back.
“You too.” Jack smiled wider, realer.
“I should, uh, go put my skates on.” Jack jerked his thumb at the bench. Eric bit his lip.
“Okay.” He started skating backwards slowly. Jack dragged his bag into the penalty box and grabbed his skates. After kicking off his running shoes, he took his time lacing up, willing his ears to stop burning as he pulled the laces taut. With a breath, he stood and took the bucket of pucks with him, gloves tucked under his arm as he took the ice. Trying his best to ignore Eric, who had put in headphones, he started with a few half laps to warm up his legs.
They nearly scared each other half to death when they skated up the center line, turning to skate right beside each other. Eric recovered his poise first, giving a bright smile before speeding up and leaving Jack in the dust. Jack tried to work on some puck-handling drills, but found himself watching the puck in his periphery, watching as Eric runs through the routine again and again. He can almost hear the cello in the movements of his body. As he finishes the run-through, Eric looks over his shoulder at Jack. Jack loses control of the puck.
It thumps against the boards. He goes after the puck, and for the first time in his adult life, his skating is entirely graceless.
“Sorry, I’m distracting you,” Eric says. “I should probably just go.” Jack turns quickly, startling Eric.
“You don’t have to go,” Jack insists. “It’s not - You aren’t distracting in a bad way.” Eric’s face is already flushed from exertion, but the little smile he directs at his skates makes Jack’s chest squeeze. He skates closer, cradling the puck with his stick, until he and Eric are close enough that they don’t have to raise their voices in the cavernous rink. “You’re really good. You - um, uh - it’s...really beautiful.”
“Well thank you.” Eric meets his eyes, smile growing. “I guess I best get going though, free skate’s almost over.” Jack looks up at the clock on the scoreboard and sees that his team will be in for practice any minute.
“Oh...Yeah, the guys will be here for warmups pretty soon.” He doesn’t want Eric to go, but if they walked in now, the chirping would be brutal. He’s pretty sure it’s written clear on his face just how adorable he finds Eric.
“Right…” Eric’s smile dims, and Jack scrambles to fix it before he disappears.”
“But I’ll see you tomorrow?” And there it is, back in full force.
“Tomorrow.”