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Matthew buys a house.
It’s his sixth year in the league, he’s just signed a new contract, the team has a new coach, he has a goddamned Olympic medal, and everything should be good. Matthew knows that most people’s quarter-life crisis is like a post-college oh-god-what-do-I-do-with-my-life thing. But Matthew’s known since he was three years old what he wanted to do with his life. And he did it, he should be happy , but he just feels empty.
(He’s sure it has nothing to do with the three post-pandemic weddings he went to this past summer, and the fact that his brother decided that he was going to propose to his girlfriend as well. It definitely has nothing to do with the fact that Matthew feels like he’ll never have that because he’s gay and he’s an NHL player and no one can ever know that, and thus he’s going to be alone his entire life...or at least until retirement).
So, to fill the hole in his life, he buys a big house in Calgary to celebrate being there for another five years.
It’s a nice place, five bedrooms, a finished basement, the realtor who took him through it originally said a Flames player had lived there in the nineties for a few years, and it’s been occupied by a couple different families since. She says a lot of nice things about how it’ll be a perfect place for him to grow into and Matthew ignores the ache in his chest that says he’s making a mistake and he’ll never need this much space.
He signs the papers in July and moves in just before training camp starts in August. It’s nice to have the space. He even hires an interior designer to help him pick furniture and stuff. He likes his new house. Lindy says it’s a little outdated and makes fun of the giant jacuzzi tub in the master bath. That’s Matthew’s favorite part though. It reminds him of the giant bathroom in his family’s first house in St. Louis, and the giant tub that he and Brady and Taryn all definitely, embarrassingly shared at one point or another. (Taryn threatens to leak the pictures at least once a month).
He makes it through all their pre-season games without any issues. He gets all new furniture for the living room. His designer tells him the whole mid-century modern look is really on trend, and Matthew likes that it lets him have some color. He sets up an office and then the three guest rooms and he’s feeling incredibly adult sitting on his new couch eating take out and watching the Sens-Leafs game.
His accomplished feeling lasts until the first intermission, when a drip of water lands in his drunken man noodles. He looks up at the ceiling and sees a water damage stain he’s sure hadn’t been there a week ago. “Fuck.”
He gathers up the take out and sets it on the island in the kitchen before heading up to the master bath. The tap is running, which makes no sense, he’s sure he didn’t leave it on. He hasn’t taken a bath since he moved in. He turns it off and resolves to call a plumber in the morning, because that’s what adults with funds at their disposal do.
A week after the plumber fixes the leak beneath the tub (for a heftier price than Matthew was prepared for), Matthew puts his foot through one of the wooden stairs on the back deck. This results in a trip to the team doctor to make sure he doesn’t need a tetanus shot, and a call to a contractor to get a quote for replacing all the boards.
The week before Halloween he turns the heat on for the first time and he doesn’t know what breaks, but he’s sweating bullets in his own home and he’s got all the windows in his bedroom open. The HVAC guy tells him how much the repair is going to cost and he definitely should have just listened to Johnny who told him to get a dog instead of a house.
His family group chat has no sympathy. His dad reminds him that he should have checked for stuff like this before he signed the papers. Matthew did everything right, though! He had it inspected and everything. Brady says this is why it’s nice to have a partner to figure things out with. (While he appreciates his brother’s use of the word partner , he can’t help but be a little upset that Brady thinks that’s a viable option for Matthew).
He gets home from the first long road trip of the season on Halloween night and his house is still sweltering. The HVAC guy is waiting for a part to come in before he can fix it. Matthew lays his head on the cool marble of his kitchen island and groans. He thinks he could fall asleep right there. It hadn’t been a good road trip. 1 of 6 possible points feels really shitty, especially when the shootout loss was to the Oilers .
Matthew is about to drag himself upstairs and into his bed when he swears he hears a giggle. A giggle? He heads to the front door, sure it’s just trick-or-treaters still hanging around. There’s no one there though. It’s well past when most of the young kids would be out. He closes the door and sighs again and then he hears it, another giggle. He locks the door and speeds toward the dining room where it seems like the noise is coming from.
Nothing, and then a voice. “Alex, shhhhh, you’ll wake up Mama.”
He definitely didn’t imagine that. He’s not that tired. It would be his luck that after everything his house would also be haunted. Or maybe a ghost is the reason for everything breaking. That would explain a lot.
He follows the sound of the voice into the kitchen. It’s coming from the big walk-in pantry. Matthew grabs one of his extra sticks leaning against the door by the mudroom and grips it tightly, ready to take a whack at a potential intruder. In one swift motion he opens the door to the pantry and all the sudden a small blonde child drops to the floor, clutching the bottom of a bag of candy that is now strewn all over the floor of Matthew’s kitchen.
He discards his hockey stick and squats down; his first instinct to check on the kid. “You okay buddy? That was a big fall.”
The kid looks up at him with wide blue eyes, grimacing a little as he pulls himself to a sitting position. “You’re not Alex.”
Matthew shakes his head. He can’t be more than five or six, maybe. He’s as towheaded as Brady was at that age. “I’m not no. How’d you get in here?”
The kid looks confused, “This is my house.”
Matthew hadn’t expected that, “I don’t think so buddy. This is my house.” The boy looks more confused still and starts gathering up the candy and putting it back in the bag. Matthew, not knowing what else to do, helps him.
He gives a look to Matthew and stands up, walking out of the kitchen. “Where are you going?”
“Mama says I can’t have any more imaginary friends, I’m going to my room to go back to bed with my candy.”
He’s very self-assured in where he’s going as he climbs up the stairs, dragging the bag of Halloween candy. He turns at the top of the stairs and heads down towards Matthew’s office. Matthew nearly makes it to the door before the boy is shutting it behind him. Matthew opens it, but it’s just his office inside, no little boy to be found.
Matthew writes it off as road-trip-brain and heads to bed.
The HVAC finally gets fixed in November and Matthew is starting to think that the whole buying-a-house thing is starting to work out. The Sens are in town in a few weeks, during American Thanksgiving, and his parents are coming up. His mother is insisting on hosting dinner for them as well as anyone on either of their teams that wants to come, now that Matthew has the space to accommodate it. So Matthew buys a dining room set and restocks the bar.
He hasn’t had anything break, nor has he seen the...ghost(?) in two weeks. He’s feeling very accomplished when he comes home from a rare afternoon game against the Wild in which he had a hat trick, his second ever. He treats himself to grilled cheese in reward even though it’s definitely not in the diet plan. He nearly flips the half finished sandwich in the air when a small voice speaks from below the countertop. “Mama always does two kinds of cheese.”
Matthew does a double take and sees the same little blond boy from halloween. “Where have you been?”
“No where. Where have you been.”
“I thought I was imaginary.” Matthew says, remembering what he’d said last time.
“Imaginary food doesn’t smell like anything.” He says, as though it’s obvious, and pulls himself up onto one of the barstools at Matthew’s island. He puts his tiny hands beneath his chin and watches Matthew cook. He flips the grilled cheese out onto the prepared plate and the boy looks at him expectantly. He heaves a heavy sigh and slides it across the island to him.
“Be careful, it’s hot.” He warns. Matthew grabs the ingredients to make another sandwich for himself while the kid blows on the grilled cheese to cool it. “What’s your name?”
“William. Willy.” He takes a bite of the sandwich. “What’s yours.”
“Matty.” he replies automatically. He always tells little kids to call him Matty.
“Why are you in my house sometimes?” Willy’s mouth is full of grilled cheese.
“Could ask you the same question, bud.” Matthew flips his grilled cheese in the pan.
Willy seems to take it in stride, “It’s the best house, isn’t it?”
His enthusiasm is evident and despite Matthew’s struggles with the house he’s compelled to say, “Yea, it’s pretty great.”
“It’s the best! We can play hockey in the basement.” He looks up at Matthew, “You like hockey, right?”
Matthew laughs, “Yea, I like hockey. I play hockey for my job.”
Willy frowns, “So do you not like to play hockey at home? My dad plays hockey for his job, and sometimes he doesn’t want to play at home with us after a game. He always plays anyway, but sometimes I can tell he doesn’t have as much fun as me and Alex and Michelle.”
“Those are your siblings?”
“Yea. Alex is really little still though.”
“Is he annoying? I have a little brother, he’s really annoying.” He tries to relate to the kid. All little brothers are annoying.
“No, he’s the best.” Matthew gives him a look, “Okay, sometimes he’s annoying but only sometimes.”
Willy bounces in his chair and waits for Matthew to finish his sandwich, before dragging him down to the basement. Matthew doesn’t know if he’s just so used to weird shit happening to him that he’s just rolling with there being a little kid in his house or if he’s really handling this situation very poorly.
Willy visibly deflates when he gets to the basement, “What did you do to it?” He says accusingly, turning back to Matthew, hands on hips. “Where’s the goal and the box of pucks, why is there carpet? ”
“I dunno what to tell you bud, this is what it was like when I moved in.” The basement was finished and he hadn’t gotten around to doing much with it in the past few months. The only stuff down there is the old couch from his condo and his old TV. Willy runs towards the far wall and sets both hands flat against it like he’s willing something to appear that just won’t. His shaggy blond hair shakes as he runs towards the closet by the stairs and flings it open. “Found--”
Matthew never hears the end of the sentence because when he gets to the closet to check on him. He’s gone.
So yea, Matthew’s house is haunted by a friendly little boy who likes hockey.
Willy starts appearing more often. Matthew pulls him off the built-in shelves in the living room the week after that. He was scaling them like a monkey and definitely going to hurt himself. “We don’t climb on the furniture. We can’t play hockey if we’re hurt from falling off the bookshelf.” Telling Willy he won’t be able to play hockey seems to be the best way to get him to stop doing something.
He’s particularly fascinated with Matthew’s video game system, which is apparently nicer than anything he’s ever seen. Matthew teaches him how to turn on the television and the game system in case he ever appears when Matthew’s not home, which he does sometimes.
He’s sitting on the couch when Matthew gets home from the latest Battle of Alberta. He’s got a split lip and a bruise forming around his left eye. He’s honestly just... tired. He fought with some Oilers rookie who wouldn’t get out of his face today, and he shouldn’t have, but people have expectations and he’s not gonna be the one to let them down. Draisaitl had bodied him afterwards as payback, for handing the rookie his ass. He’d thought they’d put their beef behind them at the Olympics last year, but it seems not so.
“Dad, says I shouldn’t fight.” Willy says when he sees his face, “Just be better at hockey and then I won’t need to. Are you bad at hockey, Matty?” He raises his eyebrow and reminds Matthew of Taryn at that age when she wanted to challenge him.
“I like to think I’m pretty good at Hockey actually, but you’re probably right that I shouldn’t fight.”
“Hey Matty?”
“Yea?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Yea, me too kid. Let’s see what we can whip up.”
“Can we have lasagna?”
“Lasagna?”
“It’s my favorite.”
“I don’t know if I have the ingredients for lasagna.” Willy pouts a little but nods, and climbs up onto his regular barstool. Matthew makes them pasta and Willy asks him about the game.
“How’d you cut your lip?”
“Just a hard check, there’s a guy on that team who really doesn’t like me.”
“That’s okay though -- you don’t have to like everyone on other teams.” Willy shrugs and gets sauce all over his face slurping up the noodles. “You said last game that it’s good that people don’t like you, it’s your job.”
“Yea, but he’s--” Matthew stops. Why does it matter to him that Draisaitl doesn’t like him? Lots of guys in the league don’t like him and it’s never mattered to him. It fuels him. It always has. Matthew grabs a paper towel and reaches across the island to wipe Willy’s face. “It’s just different.”
“So stop bothering him then.”
“I don’t.” Willy gives him a very sassy look, and he’s right, he’d made Matthew play some of his highlights for him, “Okay fine.”
“So, you want him to like you?”
“No, I don’t.” Matthew puts his empty plate in the dishwasher and then takes William’s empty plate as well.
“Mama says Alex only bothers me so much because he wants me to like him.”
“I don’t know if that’s quite the same thing.” Though he gets it, Brady and Taryn both went through a period where they constantly followed him around, just cause they wanted to hang out with their big brother.
There’s no reason that should apply here. None whatsoever. He certainly doesn’t have any familial feelings towards Leon Draisaitl. His stupid beautiful face should not have any effect on Matthew’s ability to be a pest to the Oilers. It should fuel it if anything. No one should be allowed to be that pretty and that good at hockey.
Matthew stops his train of thought, realizing he’s thought about how fucking pretty Draisaitl is twice in the last minute.
He has a fucking crush, and he’s been too blind to see it
“Maybe, yea, maybe I do want him to like me.” He says it quietly. Before Willy can come back with a dumb five year old quip like he usually does Matthew continues. “Come on bud, it’s late. Let’s get you to bed.”
William complies more easily than expected and lets Matthew carry him up to one of the guest rooms. He lays him on the bed and walks to the door. Hand on the light switch, “Goodnight Willy.” But when he turns back the room is empty.
Matthew knows he could probably ask Willy who his dad is -- that it might solve some of the mystery. If he’s a hockey player and this is his house, it’s likely that he played for the Flames...or maybe he’s not a ghost? Maybe it’s like an alternate universe thing? He doesn’t dress that different from kids now. He’s fascinated by Matty’s phone, but kids are weird right?
Matthew decides not to ask and just leave his weird ghost boy roommate be. He only shows up once or twice a week, and he’s never caused too much of a ruckus. And maybe Matthew keeps the ingredients for lasagna on hand now. Maybe he likes the responsibility of occasionally caring for a small child. Some people get a dog when they want to take that next step into adulthood, Matthew bought a house with a weird five year old boy ghost who is more emotionally mature than himself.
It’s fine.
His parents come for Thanksgiving and they have all of the guys who want to come over, on his team and Brady’s, and it’s a good time. It’s the first time his giant house has felt full since he bought it. His mom complains a little about having to cook so much, but Matthew helps her. He thinks she misses having all of them home, especially now that Taryn’s away at college and this is a chance for her to stretch her hostess muscles.
Most of their teammates have left and Matthew is lying on the couch, full of turkey and potatoes and brussel sprouts when Brady comes down from one of the guest rooms, “Do you have like neighbors with kids?”
“The neighbors are a long way off.” says his father, “You saw on the drive in.”
“Yea, but I like...I keep hearing kids giggling or something.” He says, plopping down into one of the armchairs. “Talking in some other language...Swedish maybe? There’s enough Swedes on our team that I should recognize it by now. I thought maybe one of your teammates lived close or something.”
“Nah.” says Matthew without thinking, “It’s just--” and then he stops, because he’s been so used to Willy popping in and out of his house that it doesn’t seem weird anymore. But it is weird to have the ghost of a small child in your house.
“Just what?” Says Brady, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
Matthew sighs, “I…there’s a ghost.”
His family all laughs at him, which, of course they do. He’s talking about having a ghost. Ghosts aren’t real . “Matty, this house couldn’t have been built before like 1990, I don’t think that’s even old enough to be haunted.” Says Keith.
“It’s older than me.” Mutters Matthew, pouting and crossing his arms over his chest. Brady heard Willy. Matthew knows he’s not crazy.
“Only you, Matty.” Says his mother giving his head a pat. “There’s one more load of dishes to put in the dishwasher when this one is out. Think you can handle that?”
He nods at her, “Yea, I’ve got it. You all get to bed.” His parents head up the stairs and Brady rises from the chair to go to bed too, but he stares at Matthew for a minute. “What?”
“Ghosts, Matty?” he grins and Matthew knows he’s going to use this to chirp him for months. He rolls his eyes and flips off Brady. “Goodnight.” says Brady still shaking with mirth.
Whatever. Matthew knows he’s right.
He puts on SportsCentre to see the night’s highlights while he waits for the dishwasher to beep. He’s watching Matts and Marns connect three times for the Leafs that night when a small hand reaches over the back of the couch. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, Willy?” He says without taking his eyes off the TV.
Willy pulls himself over the back of the couch and tumbles forward, landing with a plop in the spot next to Matthew. “Maybe.” He grins mischievously.
If Matthew has learned anything it’s that Willy is generally out of bed too late for a five-year-old. “What are you doing up so late, bud?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” he shrugs, he stares at the hockey on the screen. It’s highlights from the Chicago-Minnesota game now. The dishwasher beeps, “You wanna help me load the dishwasher?” Willy shrugs, but follows him into the kitchen anyway. He pulls the clean dishes from the lower part of the dishwasher and carefully hands them to Matthew.
It’s the quietest Willy’s ever been. “You sure you’re okay?” Matthew asks when the dishwasher is empty, and they’ve started putting the next round of dirty dishes into it.
“Mum and Dad argued tonight. I heard them.” Oh. That’s...that’s not something he was expecting. Matthew’s not really sure how to react. His parents...his parents are stupid in love with each other. It’s gross sometimes really.
“Are...do you want to talk about it.”
“Dad thinks he might get traded. And we’ll have to move. I don’t want to move.” Okay. This Matthew can deal with. He’s been here. He knows what that’s like. Granted Matthew was not even four when his dad was traded from Phoenix to St. Louis, but he still remembers being upset by it.
“Yea, moving is pretty sucky.” he says, “But sometimes it’s good too.”
“Yea?” Willy looks up at him. “How do you know?”
“Well, I’ve moved a lot.” He puts the cleaner in the reloaded dishwasher and closes the door. “Turn it to there.” he says to Willy, pointing at the knob to start it. He does and he smiles a little when it kicks to life. Matthew reaches out and picks the boy up, setting him on the counter. “You know my dad was a hockey player too.”
“Yea? Cool! Is that why you’re a hockey player? I wanna be a hockey player and so does Alex.”
“Yea, it’s part of the reason, but not the only reason. I just...I love it.”
“Me too, hockey is the best.” Willy smiles all white teeth and chubby cheeks.
“My dad got traded when I was three and we had to move, but it worked out.”
“Yea?” Willy looks up at him.
“Yea, I made a lot of cool friends, and I got to play a lot of hockey.” Willy looks at him like it doesn’t sound so bad.
“But this house is the best house.” Willy pouts again, “I don’t wanna leave.”
“It is a good house, you’re right.” Matthew leans against the counter across from Willy. “But I bet your next house will be just as good.”
Willy’s not buying it anymore. He hops down from the counter. “I’m going back to bed.” He trudges off towards the stairs. Matthew turns off the lights and follows him until he gets to the door to Matthew’s office. He closes it behind him. Matthew knows that when he opens it, Willy will be gone, but he looks anyway. The office is empty.
Willy seems to mellow out about his potential impending move during December. The Flames are doing better , but it’s not perfect. They’re teetering on the edge of the play off race, neck and neck with Seattle and LA. Matthew thinks they can do it, that they deserve to go on a run this year, but sometimes hockey doesn’t work like that. Edmonton’s flying high above the whole pacific division and everyone seems to think it’s going to be their year, Connor’s year, finally .
Matthew is, frankly, tired of hearing about it.
Willy appears the morning after Matthew’s hastily thrown together 25th birthday party while Matthew is putting up his Christmas Tree. Which he only ever does after his birthday. (He’d insisted on it as a kid, after he got tired of his Birthday getting lost in the festive sauce between Thanksgiving and Christmas).
Matthew puts up his artificial tree and lets Willy pick which color ornaments to put on it as he chatters on about how their tree is better, and how his parents told him that he’s gonna have a new baby sister next summer. He seems excited about that. “Yea little sisters are way better than little brothers.” Matthew agrees, if just to chirp Brady even though he can’t hear it.
He sings along to the holiday music playlist, but sings in what Matthew now recognizes now as Swedish. (He’d been paying more attention since his brother had mentioned it). He asks Willy to teach him the words to ‘O Christmas Tree’ in Swedish, maybe he can impress Lindy and Marky at the Flames Christmas party.
When they’re done decorating and the tree is strewn with brightly colored baubles, Matthew makes hot chocolate like his mom used to when they decorated the tree. Willy sits cross-legged on the couch, and holds the mug with both hands. He takes a big gulp and gets hot chocolate all over his face. Matthew laughs and hands him a paper towel.
“Hey Matty?”
“Yea?”
“Yesterday was your birthday party right?”
“Yea, how did you know that?” He hadn’t said anything.
“I heard people singing and I watched from the top of the stairs.” He takes another big gulp of hot chocolate.
“You’re sneaky.” Matthew laughs, but he’s appreciative that Willy didn’t make himself known when he had a house full of people. He doesn’t know how he would have explained that. “There’s some leftover cake, is that what you’re angling for?”
Willy looks at him, confused. He shakes his head, “I just wanted to know why you looked so sad when it was your birthday.”
“Sad?”
“Yea, you looked sad. All your friends had people to like hold hands with and stuff, like my parents, but you didn’t and it made you sad. How come you don’t have anyone, Matty?”
What is it about kids that just let them see like directly into your soul ? There had been a moment last night, when he’d been talking with Johnny and Meredith and looking at how fucking happy they are, when he’d felt... melancholy? Maybe? He misses something he can’t have, not as long as he’s playing in the NHL. Matthew deflects Willy’s question, “I’ve got plenty of people! Maybe I don’t have anyone like your parents have each other, but friendship is just as important as romance, and I’ve got lots of friends.”
“You can’t have both?” Willy says, hopefully, like he wants Matthew to be happy.
How do you explain to a kid that he wants that, desperately, but he doesn’t feel like he can have that, and if he could would there even be anyone that wanted him? He’s fine. He doesn’t need to put that all on his possible-ghost-child-friend.
Matthew smiles at him, “Not right now buddy.” He tousels Willy’s hair and stands up, “I’m gonna go see about that cake.”
Matthew cuts two small slices of the leftover cake, but when he comes back into the living room Willy is gone.
They have a rare three day break after their New Years Eve game. Matthew was gonna fly out to see his parents but his flight got cancelled due to an incoming snow storm. He got named to the All-star team and so did Brady, so he’ll see his family in New York in a few weeks anyway.
The Flames won their game on New Year’s and they’re sitting in a wild card spot, but it’s gonna be hell to hold onto, especially with Rasmus getting hurt, they’re thin on the blue line. Maybe they’ll get a miracle call-up, but he’s preparing for a tough second half of their season.
Matthew is in his basement. He did end up setting up a little shooting area like the one that Willy had described. He figures he might as well get some practice in. “You should bend your knees more.”
Matthew whips around to find Willy sitting on the stairs watching him. “Yea?”
“Yea.” Willy nods and pulls his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around them.
Matthew leans on his stick, “You okay, bud?”
Willy bites his lip. “Dad got traded.”
“Oh, Willy, buddy. I’m sorry.” Matthew walks over to him, “Where’s he going?”
“Tampa.”
“Hey, that’s nice though, won’t have to deal with all this snow.” Willy’s pout deepens, “No, you’re right. No snow days sucks.”
“No outdoor rinks, Matty!”
“Oof, I didn’t even think of that, bud.”
“It sucks. What if there’s not a team I can play on?”
Matthew sighs. He wishes he could tell Willy that it’s gonna be fine, that they’ll find him somewhere to play, but he doesn’t actually know what the state of peewee hockey is in Florida in...whatever year Willy is in. But St. Louis isn’t really a hockey town and his parents found him and Brady a place to play. “Your parents will figure it out.” Willy looks up at him skeptically, “Do you get to stay through the end of the school year?”
Willy shakes his head, “We’re just waiting until Dad finds a house. Mama wants to move before it’s too hard with the baby coming.”
Matthew nods, understanding. “You wanna shoot a few?” He offers Willy his stick and his whole face lights up. When in doubt, Willy will be happy playing hockey.
He’s pretty good too, for a five year old with a stick that’s way too big for him. Matthew feeds him pucks for a good hour before Willy gets tired and both of their stomach’s start grumbling. “Come on, I’ll make lasagna.” It’s the least he can do. When faced with a sad little kid, make them their favorite meal.
Willy smiles, “Thanks Matty.”
It occurs to Matthew, while they’re waiting for the lasagna to cook and Willy is telling him about the snow fort he and his brother built, that after Willy moves he might not show up in Matthew’s house anymore. Matthew ignores the sinking feeling in his chest at the thought.
All-star weekend is in New York. It’s not Florida or California, but it could be worse. At least it’s a tourist destination. His family is in town and he spends the night before the skills competition with them. His mother asks him about his house, and if he’s planning on having anyone else live in it anytime soon. “It’s too big for just you, honey.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. He’s got ghosts to keep him company.” Brady had laughed and Matthew had hoped that his face didn’t betray his actual emotions. He’s going to miss his ghost when it’s gone. Should have listened to Johnny and got a dog. He still can, he supposes.
After the skills competition, Marns throws an arm around him, “You’re coming out right?” Matthew is flabbergasted for a moment and then laughs, realizing that Mitch meant like out on the town and not out of the closet . He thinks about begging off, but there’s no way Mitch takes no for an answer, and maybe it’d be good to get away from his family and his team for a little bit.
“Yea sure, Brady’s hanging with Quinn and some other guys I think, where are we going? Who’re you dragging out with us?”
“Matts, of course, Willy, Stromer, Davo, maybe Drai if Davo drags him out.”
“He won’t come if he knows I’m gonna be there.”
“Come on that shit’s all for show.” Mitch rolls his eyes, “Meet us in the hotel lobby in an hour yea?” He doesn’t give Matthew a chance to say anything else. Matts claps him on the shoulder with a laugh as he follows Mitch into the Eastern Conference locker room.
An hour later Matthew’s got his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat as Mitch leads a merry party out onto the streets of New York. “Does he know how to not be the center of attention?” Mutters Matthew.
Matts throws an arm around him and laughs, “You know Mitchy.”
Connor laughs, “He’s like tinkerbell, he needs attention to live.” Draisaitl snorts with laughter from Connor’s otherside. McDavid isn’t generally the funny one, but he has his moments. Connor hurries to catch up with Stromer and Mitch just ahead of them, and Draisaitl waffles for a second on whether to move up with them or fall back with Matthew, Auston and Nylander. Nylander takes pity on his fellow European and jogs to catch up and walk with him. Matthew watches for a second before Matts says, “You know I think the Oilers sell like calendars with him on it -- if you want to stare.”
Matthew feels his cheeks warm, and not because of the cold New York air. “Shut up.” he shoves Auston with his shoulder.
Two hours later, they’re packed into a tiny loud bar somewhere in the village. They’d started somewhere more towards midtown, but it’s easier not to be recognized down here. Matthew is pleasantly tipsy and starting to realize he could probably hook up if he wanted to slip away from his friends. He’s contemplating trying to subtly get on Grindr when Nylander and Matts come up to him. He’s a little miffed to abort his plan, but they’re handing him a shot, so he’s not gonna complain, they’ll be more time later, “Bottom’s up Matty.” says Auston.
Nylander looks at him weird for a second, but then throws back his own shot. When Matthew is feeling the burn of whiskey (he thinks?) in the back of his throat and he opens his eyes, Nylander is still staring at him, “What?”
“You don’t seem like a Matty.”
Auston laughs, a little tipsy, and throws an arm around Matty’s shoulders, “You said that about me too. And he’s way more of a Matty than me.”
Nylander shrugs, “Had an imaginary friend named Matty when I was a kid.”
“You’re a weirdo Willy; I love that about you.” Says Auston throwing his other arm around Willy.
Willy.
Matty does the mental equivalent of a double take. He doesn’t know William Nylander very well, he knows his brother better because of draft class stuff, but weird is the word that is most often used to describe him.
Matts sees someone across the room and removes himself from between Willy and Matty and Matthew finds himself staring. “What? You never had an imaginary friend?” He laughs it off and signals to the bartender for another drink.
Matthew shakes his head and tries to process the new information he’s put together. William Nylander, in his bright pink toque and dumb fake glasses could maybe be the ghost that lives in his house. “Can’t say that I did.” He orders another drink too. “Don’t you have like a million siblings? You had imaginary friends too?”
“Shut up, I was adorable.” Willy takes a sip of his drink and Matthew laughs. He was adorable. Matty knows that for a fact. “Maybe I got lonely.”
“Yea.” Matthew says, and there’s a pause as Willy observes him, careful, pensive. He starts to say something, but thinks better of it and just nods, heading off to a corner with some people Matthew doesn’t recognize.
Matthew downs the rest of his drink and leaves the bar.
He rolls into the hotel sometime around 3 AM after a hook-up. He’s at least sobered up so he won’t be hungover going into the games. He forgets to google William Nylander until he’s on a plane back to Calgary almost a week later, after a long weekend spent in St. Louis with his parents.
It’s all public knowledge. William Nylander, born in Calgary, Alberta. He types William Nylander kid into the search bar just to confirm. It’s as he suspected. The ghost (time traveler?) in his house is William Nylander of the Toronto Maple Leafs. He feels like he should have put it together sooner.
Ghost Willy doesn’t show up again after All-Star weekend. Matthew did the research. Michael Nylander was traded to Tampa in January, it makes sense that they would have moved a month or so after that.
He hates that he doesn’t get to tell Willy that moving is going to be fine, that he’ll get to play hockey for the rest of his life. That he’ll get to play in the NHL, that he’ll be good. It’s probably better if he doesn’t know it anyway, but Matthew wished he could have at least told him everything would be alright, knowing for sure that it would.
Matthew’s finally admitted it to himself; admitted that part of the reason he liked having a haunted house was because it made him feel like the place wasn’t so empty. He could focus on the weird little imp of a kid that kept appearing in his house instead of the rapidly deteriorating Flames playoffs hopes, or his lack of love life, or the general malaise of winter in Alberta.
Now, though, he doesn’t have the distraction of a small Swedish weirdo and is forced to confront all the general mediocrity of his life head on.
He should get a dog.
He doesn’t get a dog. He gets a cat instead because the lady at the shelter said that cats are easier for first time pet owners. That and there’s a litter of kittens they’ve named after the Flames and he can’t not take home the wily little orange one they called Chucky. (He does change his name though, wanting to avoid confusion).
He finds a rhythm to the days. There’s no longer the anticipation of a possible ghost appearance, but there’s still all the good things he loves about his life. Hockey, and his friends, and now his cat (renamed Louis, after his hometown). He makes lasagna once every other week and tries to take care of himself.
The Leafs come to town in mid-march. They’ve secured a playoff spot already and Calgary is basically out. It’s disappointing, having to play out games they know don’t mean a ton. Still, Gio’s retiring, and they want to make the end of his career as good as they can. The game is an offensive battle, and the Flames win 9-8 in overtime. It is one of the most ridiculous games Matthew’s ever played in. He gets a hat trick (his second of the season), so does Nylander. Mitch has 6 points and the Leafs still lose. Matthew doesn’t think they’re too torn up about it though.
People mostly beg off celebrating afterwards though, they’ve got wives and girlfriends and kids to go home to and it’s a weeknight and there’s practice tomorrow. So Matty goes home and feeds his cat and watches highlights from around the league. He’s trying to decide what to have as a post-game meal when there’s a knock on the door.
He almost jumps, it’s so unexpected. It’s late and he doesn’t have close neighbors and Louis is sitting on the counter looking at him expectantly so it’s not like he could have gotten out.
Matthew crosses the living room and opens the door to find William Nylander on his stoop. Pink beanie on his head, he’s holding a full paper grocery bag. “Nylander?”
“Matty.” He grins. “I figured I owed you one.”
“Owed me what?” Matthew opens the door wider and lets him in from the brisk Alberta night. “How do you even know where I live?”
Willy rolls his eyes and walks right past Matthew, slipping his shoes off and leaving them by the door and then passing through the living room and into the kitchen like he owns the place. Which--okay, that’s fair. Matthew closes the door before Louis can get out and follows Willy into the next room.
He’s unloading his grocery bag onto the island. Matthew laughs, “Lasagna?”
Willy grins and shrugs, “Like I said, I figured I owed you one. Holes in the time-space continuum notwithstanding.”
“I’ll start the water boiling.” Says Matthew.
They work side by side for a moment to gather the supplies needed. Willy knows where everything is, which shouldn’t be surprising, but it still catches Matthew off-guard. “When did you figure it out?” Matthew asks.
William grins, “On the plane here. Mitchy said something about seeing your new house, and then I stalked your instagram to confirm.” He says, “It’s not like I had any pictures of you or anything, only what I can remember from being five years old.”
“I didn’t put it together until All-star weekend, and you were just like..living in my house.”
“Yea, I was an adorable kid, you should have known.” He chirps. Matty rolls his eyes and scoffs. Willy laughs. “When’d you get the cat?”
“Like a month after you stopped showing up.”
“Missed me that much, eh?” Willy chuckles, but stops when he looks at Matthew’s face. He’s quiet for a moment, putting the last layer in the lasagna. Matthew pops it in the oven and turns on a timer. Willy sits down at his regular bat stool.
It’s weird, seeing the full grown Willy sitting there, but it feels the same in some ways. “Creature of habit, huh?” Matthew gestures to where he’s sitting.
“It's a nice spot.” Willy shrugs. “Why’d you buy this house anyway?”
“Why? You wanna buy it back? Gonna sign here when you’re big contract’s up?”
Willy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m good where I am. I was just wondering why you bought a house at all. You don’t seem like a guy that needs a ton of space, and you’re outside the city here.”
“Not really. I’m not like downtown, but I think it’s close enough. We’re not like in the wilderness.” One of Willy’s dark blond eyebrows disappears beneath his pink beanie. Matthew looks at the timer on his phone, willing it to sound. Willy just puts a hand under his chin and waits for Matty to respond. Matthew sighs, “I don’t know. I thought buying a house would make me feel...I dunno...further along in life than I am. Like I’d accomplished something outside of Hockey.”
“That’s dumb.”
“Wow, adult Willy pulls just a few punches as kid-Willy.” Matty shakes his head.
“I’m just saying that’s some bullshit.” Willy leans over the counter, “You’re buying houses to cope with being lonely and it’s having the opposite effect you want it to.”
“I’m not--”
“I’m just saying sitting in this big empty house isn’t gonna help you with that, probably makes it worse, really.”
Matthew sighs, “Well what do you think I should do?” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“So you admit that you’re lonely.” Willy grins.
“Fine. Yes, Nylander, I’m fucking lonely.” Matthew leans back against the sink and throws his head into his hands. “I’m not universally loved, like some people. ”
Willy laughs and then scoffs, “You all don’t get the Toronto Sun out here, eh?” He pulls his beanie down a little further, “You know it’s like...normal, right? Feeling alone and shit.”
“Yea, I’m not used to it.” There were always people. His brother and sister, his mom, billet moms, rookies who lived in his condo guest room. Maybe next year he’ll offer to house some rookies.
“Yea, five siblings dude, I get it. I’m just trying to tell you your feelings are valid.” Willy holds his hands up in defense. “I’m just saying your feelings are valid, but also you’re allowed to not be alone.” Matthew shakes his head. “It’s not--I’m not saying you gotta be out or anything, but you don’t have to be alone .”
“Why? You want a piece of this, Nylander.”
“Not a chance, Chucky. Doesn’t mean there’s not someone who does though.” He’s practically twinkling.
The timer for the lasagna goes off. Matthew narrows his eyes at Willy and pulls on some oven mitts. He pulls the Lasagna from the oven. “Do you know something?”
Willy just smirks and shakes his head, “No--but this house…I’m just saying, take a chance, Matty.” He trails off, “It doesn’t matter, give me some lasagna.”
Matthew scoffs and shakes his head, but obliges William’s request for lasagna. He changes the subject to their matching hat tricks in the game they just played and leaves Matthew with a hug and promise to repay the favor when Matthew’s in Toronto, or Stockholm, whichever comes sooner.
Still, when he closes the door on Willy, the big house doesn’t seem as big as it did. Maybe he just needs to spend more time with his friends, really embrace filling this big empty house with noise.
He clicks his tongue and Louis bounds down off the back of the couch and streaks up the stairs. The cat curls up in the chair in Matthew’s bedroom and Matthew gives into the ache in his legs and passes out.
He sleeps in the next morning, doesn’t wake up until the smell of sausages frying rouses him. He rolls out of bed wondering if someone broke-in to use his stove. It would probably be the least weird thing to happen in this house. Matthew pads down the stairs and across the living room.
There’s laughter coming from the kitchen: his own (he thinks?), and someone else’s deeper tone (maybe familiar?) scolding him in another language, and something high pitched that reminds him of Taryn as a kid. He rounds the corner to the kitchen and finds it empty, no sausages frying, no child laughing, just a steaming mug of coffee sitting on the counter.