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Tyler’s fourteen when he decides he’s never having a bath again.
He’s all alone in the bathroom, his Mom and sisters out in the living room watching some shitty soap opera. Tyler just got home from practice. He was late and his Mom was pissed at having to wait so long for him. His chest feels hollow and there’s a numbness tingling throughout his body that disappears when he shoves his head under the water, and holds his breath.
Get the fuck away from me you fucking fag.
Beau Greene’s voice echoes in his ears as the events of the locker room replay in his head. Tyler had only tried to help the guy out with his shooting, he’d said as much when the team had retired to the locker room and Beau had gone off at Tyler for watching him all practice. Tyler had tried to reason with Beau, tell him he wasn’t a “fucking homo” because that was wrong and he wasn’t like that.
Tyler’s pleads fell on deaf ears, and he’d left practice feeling miserable and alienated in the one thing that made him happy.
The water muffles out the sound of the TV from the living room, and the constant noise in his head hums lazily in the background. It’s peaceful, and Tyler doesn’t ever want to lift his head from the lukewarm water.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
“Dinner’s ready, Ty.”
His Mom’s voice echoes through the bathroom door and pulls Tyler out of his underwater daze.
He doesn’t feel guilty until he walks into the living room and sees his mom and sisters snuggled up together on the couch. Tyler craves for the feeling of water pressing down on his body and for the pressure to relieve his brain from the noise.
*
He doesn’t have a bath again until he’s 21. The Bruin’s have traded him to the Dallas Stars, of all teams, and all he can think about is how he brought this on himself.
He knows it’s because of the partying, the nights he’d spent bar hopping, and drowning himself in liquor in a pitiful attempt to feel something other than the self-hatred that gnawed at his insides constantly. He knows it’s because of the days where he turned up to practice wearing the same crumpled clothes three days in a row, smelling of alcohol and fighting off a hangover.
He definitely knows that it’s because of that one time he’d missed team breakfast because he’d drank himself beyond blackout drunk all because Marchy had told him to “quit being a faggot and start playing more physical”.
The numbness spreads throughout Tyler’s body and he can feel himself becoming tireder, he wants to push his head above the water but his body is heavy, and he’s just so, so tired. He can feel himself slipping when the muffled sound of his phone brings him back. He pulls himself up and out of the bathtub. It was Marchy.
*
Tyler doesn’t expect much in Dallas. It’s not a hockey town, the team hasn’t made the playoffs in five years and they’re in the middle of rebuilding their franchise. It’s not an ideal situation for him to be in. He’s already fucked up before the plane’s even landed. A drunken tweet sent out after he’d drowned himself in vodka instead of the bathtub.
Only steers and queers in Texas, and I’m not a cow.
He’d panicked in the morning because he’d basically just outed himself to the world, and while they’ve got the whole You Can Play campaign, Tyler’s barely okay with it himself, much less the whole world knowing.
Except it doesn’t happen that way. Instead of the world knowing that he’s a fucking faggot, they think he’s a homophobic asshole. He’s surprised that the Stars haven’t traded him before he even gets there.
PR makes him spread some bullshit about how his twitter was hacked but it’s a half-hearted attempt to clean up his reputation and it’d obvious to everyone that it wasn’t a twitter hack.
Tyler’s just thankful that his new apartment doesn’t have bathtub.
*
Despite his rocky start to the Dallas Stars, Tyler finds himself fitting in, and enjoying himself more than he thought he would. He becomes close friends with Jamie and Jordie Benn, who, for some reason, don’t seem to hate him. In fact, the whole team seems to like him. He has instant chemistry with Jamie on the ice and it makes its way off the ice too. For the first time in years, Tyler feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest.
There’s a lightness deep in his chest, something that he hasn’t felt even when he was absolutely wasted. He finds himself smiling more and more, real genuine smiles. He barely drinks unless the boys are celebrating a win. He can’t even bring himself to be too down even when the Stars lose a few games. He’s the first line center, playing alongside Jamie and tearing it up and down the ice, and people seem to actually care about him.
Tyler grows accustomed to the way Jamie and Jordie hang out with him on the nights, the way Jason checks up on him in the locker room, and how when he goes out with the guys he’s not the only one who’s alone. Tyler’s happy in Dallas. Like honest-to-God, smiling every ten seconds, floating on air happy.
He just wishes that it would last for once.
*
There’s a bathtub in the hotel in Boston. Tyler doesn’t really notice it until after the game. It’s the first time he’s versed the Bruins since the trade, and though they won the game Tyler can’t help the heavy weight that’s growing in his chest. He feels like he’s betrayed the Bruin’s. It’s irrational considering the trade was out of his control but the weight in his chest stays with him the entire game.
The media scrum hits him with all sorts of questions about the trade and what it was like versing his old team. He answers as best as he can but Tyler’s tired. His head hurts, his body hurts, and he can’t shake the numbness that’s gradually taking over. The boys go out celebrating and as much as he wants to go home, he can’t bring himself to say no. At least the booze will loosen him up.
He stays out the entire night, gets smashed and at the request of the boys, he picks up the leggy blonde who’s been eyeing him all night.
He can’t remember her name. Only the sound of the bed squeaking and her loud moans as he pushes into her. Tyler’s face burns as he pictures himself in her position, his legs wrapped around the neck of some hot, chiselled guy who fucks into him hard and fast. A white hot anger bursts throughout his chest as he pushes into her one last, ignoring her high pitched cries as she calls out for more. Hot tears prickle his eyes and shame rolls off his body in waves as he cums with the image of a man fucking him.
He leaves straight after, gathering his clothes off the floor and hailing a cab back to the Star’s hotel before she’s even come off her orgasm high.
He runs the bathtub to the brim and lowers himself into it, slowly. The images of the woman and the man and the sex replaying over and over in his mind until he can’t breathe. He’s a sobbing, naked mess by the time he calms down, and the hot water is now freezing cold. He hears loud knocking on his hotel door, and hears Jamie’s voice.
“Team breakfast in 10 Segs, don’t be late.”
*
Tyler’s back in Dallas, Boston is still replaying in his head and he sits on the floor of the bathroom nursing a bottle of whisky.
His phone is vibrating next to him and he can see Jamie’s name pop up on the screen. When he doesn’t answer, Jamie starts sending texts through one after the other.
Dude, where r u?
Srsly, answer ur phone
For fucks sake Segs, ur supposed to be at ours tonight, remember?
That’s it I’m coming down
Jamie keeps sending the texts through and the more the phones buzzes the more Tyler can feel anger and shame coursing through his body. Jamie rings his phone once more and Tyler can’t take it anymore, he picks the phone up and lobs it at the wall.
The phone smashes as it hits the floor but not enough that it won’t stop ringing.
And ringing.
And ringing.
And Tyler can’t breathe.
Can’t see.
It just keeps buzzing.
And buzzing.
And ringing.
And then there’s hands on his back. Tyler can’t breathe but he feels himself being pulled into someone’s chest. He tries to talk but his voice just comes out in thick, strangled gasps. He can hear voices but they’re muffled, and suddenly the person behind him pulls him up, and Tyler feels himself being lead out of the bathroom, and into his bed.
He feels his shoes being taken off, and someone gently pulling the covers over him. Someone crawls into the bed with him, and he feels them pull him into their chest, their hands stroking his hair and whispering words that Tyler can’t make out in his ears.
Tyler drifts and for the first time since they got back from Boston, he sleeps.
*
It’s past midday when Tyler finally wakes up. His head hurts and he doesn’t remember how even got into his bed. He wants to roll over and go back to sleep but he can hear music playing quietly through the door.
Jamie is in the kitchen, the counter is littered with bowls and egg shells, and other bits and pieces. Jordie sits across from him, his back towards Tyler. Neither of them notice Tyler as he walks through the door.
“Uh, hey guys. What are ya’ doing here?” Tyler’s voice is rough, and makes both the brothers jump.
Tyler tries to smile at them but both Jamie and Jordie are watching him with concern lacing their features. They’ve both got bags under their eyes, as if they haven’t slept in a while.
“Hey Segs, just making breakfast.” Jamie tries to joke as he attempts to crack another egg into the bowl.
No one laughs, and the atmosphere is awkward. There’s an empty bottle of whisky on the kitchen top next to a smashed phone that looks suspiciously like Tyler’s.
“Right, in my kitchen?” The brothers share a look. Tyler clears his throat suddenly unable to meet either of their eyes.
“You uh, you don’t remember anything that happened last night?” Tyler can feel Jamie’s eyes on him but he doesn’t look up, instead struggling to piece together the broken fragments of last night’s memories. What had he done? What had they seen? Tyler can feel his palms beginning to sweat, as he shoves them into his pockets and stares at the floor. God, what if they knew that he was faggot? He’s definitely off the team now, no question about it.
“Wow, wow, wow, hey man, calm down,” Jordie finally speaks up, “Why don’t you have a seat and and drink this,” he slides a glass of orange sludge across the counter, “See if we can’t shake the effects of that whiskey you destroyed last night.”
“Thanks.”
Tyler takes a seat and the glass still avoiding their eyes.
“So, uh, Segs, you wanna talk about it?” Tyler snorts in contempt at Jamie’s awkward attempt to get him talking.
Jamie slams his glass onto the countertop and lets out a frustrated sigh.
“Tyler, we just want to know what’s up, we need to know how to help you.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, look it’s fine if you’re not ready to talk about it yet, but don’t bullshit us. I’m the one who had to find you in the bathroom, barely breathing and saying that you wanted to die!” Jamie’s gaze softens and he lowers his voice, “Tyler, you were sobbing on the floor, telling me how much you wanted to fucking die and I’m supposed to be okay with this? I’m supposed just take a step back because you’re fucking fine now! Don’t fucking bullshit me Tyler, you’re not fine.”
Jamie doesn’t lower his gaze from Tyler, it’s as if he’s daring him to say it again, to tell him that he’s fine.
“Get out.”
Jamie blinks in shock and takes a step back.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Jordie puts his hand on Tyler’s shoulder, “C’mon Segs, we need to talk about this.”
“You too Jordie, fuck off out of my apartment.” Tyler shrugs Jordie’s hand off his shoulder and squares up to Jamie, who is still standing in Tyler’s kitchen.
“Leave, now, before I call fucking security.”
The brothers sigh, and leave Tyler alone in his apartment. It’s deathly quiet now, and Tyler forces his already exhausted body into the bathroom and fills the bathtub.
A sob escapes his mouth as he sees the hole in the wall, and before he knows it tears are falling from his eyes and his sobs wreck through his body. He doesn’t bother taking his clothes off as he sits in the ice cold water, and lowers his head under.
He still feels hollow, still feels numb despite the water sitting heavy on his chest. He still feels alone, and the water refuses to drown his thoughts that echo loudly in his head.
He hates Jamie and Jordie for seeing him like that.
He hates Beau Greene and Brad Marchand for knowing what he is.
He hates the leggy blonde from Boston.
But he hates himself the most.
He hates how all he’s ever wanted is for someone to notice he’s not fine, and when someone finally does he pushes them away.
He hates that he can’t be normal and wish for a wife and kids like all the other guys have.
He hates that he hates himself.
*
The Dallas Stars next practice is optional skate, and as much as Tyler craves the feel of ice beneath his feet, he’s not sure if he can handle it right now. He goes anyway because his need to get back on the ice outweighs his need to wallow in self-pity.
The rink is quiet when he arrives, the boys, or the ones who’ve chosen to come to the optional skate today are all making a ruckus in the locker room. Tyler tries to enter the room as discreetly as he can, he doesn’t want to talk to anyone today, he just wants to chuck his gear on and go shoot some pucks.
Of course, when has anything gone Tyler’s way. Roussel spots Tyler straight away as he makes his way over to his stall.
“Hey Seggy, you look like shit today.”
Tyler sighs, and pastes on his best smile.
“Fuck you Rous, I look like a fucking god today.” He says lifting his shirt up to point at his abs. Rous just laughs and chucks a ball of tape at him.
“Fuck you ya fuckface.”
Jamie and Jordie are both sat in their stalls as Tyler sits down in his to chuck his gear on. They’re both talking quietly and sneaking glances at him every so often.
Practice goes quick. Lindy makes them work on their passing, and shooting before calling it a day. He’s paired with Jamie like usual and if anyone notices the tension between their captain and Tyler, nobody says anything about it. Not that it’s obvious on the ice, they’ve still got chemistry on the ice. Their passes connecting better than when they’re not fighting.
Tyler showers and changes as fast as he can as soon as practice ends. He doesn’t want to be in the same room as Jamie and Jordie longer than he needs to. That, and he scheduled the afternoon off so that he can wallow in self-pity.
*
Tyler takes the long way back to his apartment because he’s not sure if he wants to go back there yet. Of course, there’s nothing he wants to do more than to lie in the bathtub contemplating lying under the water until he has no air left in his lungs, and then forcing himself to stay there longer. But the thought of going back there freaks him out a little, knowing that Jamie and Jordie saw him at what just may be the lowest point of his life.
He puts it off for as long as he can but the desire to drown himself in both the bathwater and alcohol becomes overwhelming, and that’s how he finds himself opening up the door to his apartment to see both the Benn brothers sat at his kitchen counter, again. He needs to stop giving people spare keys to his apartment.
“I thought I told you to leave.” He says as the brothers turn to him, grim looks on their faces.
“We’re not in the habit of leaving our apparently suicidal, alcoholic friend alone in his apartment,” Jordie looks at him pointedly, “that and we really want to help you out Tyler.”
Jamie nods at Jordie’s words, still watching Tyler. Tyler knows it’s useless to get them to leave, they may have listened to him yesterday but they weren’t going to budge today.
He opens his mouth to reply before Jamie cuts him off.
“Don’t tell us that you’re fine, Ty.”
“I was going to say, that if you’re going to be crashing my pity party then we might as well grab some beers and put on a shitty movie,” Tyler wanders over to the fridge and grabs out three beers, “And maybe if I’m feeling up to it, I’ll humour you with my feelings.”
He hands the beers over to Jamie and Jordie, and the three of them settle into Tyler’s couch as Tyler slips ‘Rollerball’ into the DVD player. He hears the brothers groan from behind him.
“What? I said shitty movie.”
*
There’s a warm body underneath him. Tyler doesn’t know the guy’s name; heck Tyler can barely recall his own name at the minute. He’s lost count of how many drinks he’s had, too much probably. But that’s how Tyler likes it. Enough to stop himself from feeling the shame that he usually feels.
The man’s hands grip Tyler’s hips sharply, and Tyler presses further down onto him, relishing in the full feeling in his stomach. He tries to push up and down further but the man’s grip is strong, holding Tyler firmly onto him. Tyler groans as he comes onto the man’s bare chest.
He feels his strength sapping from his body as he comes, and he falls down onto the man’s chest, breathing heavily into the guy’s neck.
Tyler’s not sure how long he stays like that, with his Florida hook up underneath him. He’s in this weird state between being awake and being asleep. The man, who’s name Tyler hasn’t even bothered to ask for, snores loudly, and the loud noise forces Tyler to wake up.
He doesn’t even bother to wake the guy up before Tyler’s pulling his pants back over the dried cum that’s stuck to his stomach, and legging it out the door.
*
The bathtub is overflowing. The water drips over the edge, forming a large puddle on the bathroom floor. Tyler doesn’t turn the faucet off. The steady trickle of the water comforts him. Making the noise in his head quieter.
He strips down till he’s naked and settles himself into the bathtub. Lowers himself down until his whole body except his head is covered with the clear water. The faucet is still running when Tyler takes a deep breath and pushes his head under the water.
It’s still running when he closes his eyes, and revels in the weight of the water pushing down on his chest.
Tyler feels his chest constrict but he pushes himself through the pain, through the need to push his head above the water.
He can do this, he tells himself.
The urge to take a breath becomes too much and Tyler’s lungs force his mouth to open for some air.
Instead he splutters up from the water, coughing and choking up water as he tries to take deep breaths.
*
Afternoon practice is going as well as it can go after this morning’s fiasco. Which is to say not well at all.
Tyler’s tired before training even starts, there’s a fatigue setting deep in his bones that wasn’t there this morning, and he’s finding it harder and harder to breather as the practice wears on. He can feel his chest aching every time he sets off to skate and as more and more of his teammates ask him if he’s okay, Tyler’s patience wears thin.
He finds himself coughing uncontrollably in the midst of telling Jordie to fuck off after he’d commented on Tyler’s blue lips, and pale skin.
“Looking a little blue there, Segs,” Jordie had said.
Tyler had barely replied back when he could feel a cough coming up. He coughs, and heaves, and the pain in his chest grows heavier.
“Whoa, Tyler, you good man?” Kari skates over and pats Tyler on the back.
And Tyler wants to reply, he really, really does. Except, the coughing has turned into Tyler collapsing on the ground and heaving, trying to somehow get a breath in as he throws up water.
He sees the team standing around him, concerned, and as Tyler’s eyes land on Jamie’s face, he blacks out.
*
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The beeping noise is relentless, and invades Tyler’s sleep. There’s something attached to his face and up his nose, and Tyler’s eyes feel far too heavy to open.
There’s a soft murmuring in the room he’s in, and Tyler can’t quite decipher the voices but he catches snippets of the conversation.
“Secondary drowning? How the fuck did he manage that?”
“I have no clue; we’re just going to have to ask him.”
*
The second time Tyler wakes up, his eyes feel light enough that he can open them. The beeping is still there, and so is whatever the fuck is on his face, except this time there’s also a hand clutching his.
Tyler cracks open an eye, and there slumped in a plastic chair beside the hospital bed, is Jamie. He’s dressed in sweats, his hand holding tightly onto Tyler’s as he sleeps with his head resting on the bed. There’s purple bags underneath Jamie’s eyes and Tyler briefly wonders how long he’s been in here when the door opens.
“Hey, you’re awake?” Jordie quietly closes the door behind him as he juggles two coffees in his hands.
“Yeah, I guess so,” The cannula itches Tyler’s nose as he speaks and he sneezes, loudly.
Jamie’s head pops up instantly and his eyes widen comically when he sees Tyler’s staring back at him.
“You’re awake,” Jamie’s voice is deep, and gravelly, exactly like he’s just woken up.
Tyler can only nod as Jamie’s eyes grow darker.
“Fuck, Tyler,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “How the fuck did you manage to get secondary drowning?”
And, there’s the question Tyler was hoping to avoid.
Jamie stares pointedly at him, he’s got that look in his eyes, the one that he gets when the team is down by a few points and Jamie has to use his captain voice to rile the guys up again.
There’s no way to avoid the question when Jamie’s got that look in his eyes.
Tyler sighs, and the weight comes crashing back into him.
“I – I…” Tyler stutters, the words are right on the tip of his tongue but no matter how hard he tries they won’t come out. Both Jamie and Jordie sit there, patiently as he tries to get the words out.
It isn’t until Jamie picks up Tyler’s hand and rubs circles in his palm.
“You know you can trust us, right Ty?”
Tyler nods, and the words come spilling out.
The bathtub, the suicide attempts, the numbness in his chest, and how he just wanted to stop the noise, to forget about everything. Tyler’s sobbing by the time he’s finished, and Jamie’s made his way onto the hospital bed, and tucked Tyler’s head into his chest, stroking his hair gently.
“But, why?” Jordie asks him, softly, leaning up on the bed with his elbows.
This is it. The moment that Tyler never wanted to come. But Jamie is here, holding him, and Jordie is patting his leg, and being so gentle with him. He feels safe, like he can trust these two brothers to keep the secret that he’s been keeping his entire life. Because, for some reason, being in Jamie’s arms makes Tyler feel safe, feel braver than he ever did when he was underneath the water in those bathtubs.
Tyler takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes.
“Because I’m gay.”