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Jeff’s been there twenty minutes by the time Eric comes through the doors, quick paced with a serious tilt around his eyes. Jeff hates that he knows that. Eric’s eyes find him the same way they always do, unerringly precise. He frowns a little and Jeff takes a deep breath, darts his eyes away. Eric sits, close enough to press their thighs together. Jeff can feel how sweaty Eric’s palms are and how badly his stomach is churning.
“Shit, what do you think this is about?” Eric asks, and his voice is steady even though Jeff can feel the nervous tension thrumming through him. Ever the captain, Eric can bury anything deeply enough. Jeff hasn’t learned that trick yet.
“Do you think they know?” Eric asks, eyes fixed on Jeff’s profile. Jeff always thought he’d feel safe under that gaze, loved even. Mostly he just feels trapped.
“Yes,” he replies, careful to keep his voice as steady as Eric’s.
“Shit,” Eric hisses, fists clenching on his knees before he forces them to relax. “Shit, Jeff! Who could have told them?”
As the door to the office opens, Jeff deliberately moves his leg until they are no longer touching and makes sure his barriers are firmly in place.
“I did,” he says before standing up and heading to where Pete and Jim are waiting for them, faces twin mirrors of grim resignation.
*********
When Jeff was younger, he used to listen to his sisters talking about their names and what they thought the people attached to them would be like. He liked to snuggle in close and imagine the people they conjured up, wondered how they would fit into his family, if he’d like them.
He didn’t think much about the name on his own, bold sharp lines that had been there since birth. He was busy skating in any capacity, then busy narrowing down what he wanted to pursue.
Even on his draft day, he was too excited that an NHL team actually wanted him to give it much thought. It was just another part of him, like an ear or a foot. Fundamental to who he was but also easy to forget about.
*********
The office is over-warm and, even in his t-shirt, Jeff feels sweat beading on his skin. Eric is pounding on his barriers, all but demanding to be let in, a steady crashing beat that Jeff finds he can mostly tune out. When they sit, Jeff makes sure there’s enough space between the chairs that physical contact is impossible.
Jim and Pete are side by side across the desk, what looks like a rule book open in front of them, papers scattered all over the desktop. Jeff regrets that he’s caused them so much work this morning but it’ll be over soon.
“Gentlemen.” Jim looks at them both and then glances pointedly at their wrists. Jeff unclasps his wristguard with no hesitation, offering it up for inspection. Eric is more reluctant but acquiesces after a minute-long stare-off. Side by side, the names and the writing are familiar to both men. Pete exhales loudly, dropping his head back, and Jim stares for as long as it takes for them to retract their arms and snap their wristguards back in place.
“Who knows?” Pete’s head is still tipped back, question directed towards the ceiling.
“No one,” Jeff replies in a voice with no inflection at all. He’d practiced.
“Tanya?” Jim asks. Eric’s jaw clenches and he glances away, missing the surprised eyebrow lift. Jeff doesn’t miss it.
“You should have told us the moment you found out,” Pete interjects, admonishing but with a quiet streak of hope in his tone. Jeff almost feels sorry for him. “If you’ve kept it quiet this long, if nobody but the people in this room know, we can get around it.” He closes the book in front of him decisively, laying a palm flat on the cover. Jim is nodding, watching Eric.
“It’s inconvenient but we can work with it,” he adds, glancing at both of them, “assuming there are no problems?”
“No,” Eric is speaking before Jim has even finished, “no problems at all. Right, Jeff?”
Jeff looks at Eric’s pale pleading face before turning his attention back to Jim and Pete.
He takes a deep breath and says calmly, “I’d like to request a trade.”
***********
Jeff is still riding high on the All Star weekend when they head back into the regular season. The NHL is so much more than he had ever expected it to be.
After the next win, the team insist on taking him out, sneaking him into a club where the owner turns a blind eye to technically underage Hurricanes as long as they are not seen to be buying alcohol. The team buy Jeff a lot of spiked colas because they think it’s funny how smiley he gets when he’s tipsy, how much he giggles. He obliges them, lets them nudge him, sling arms around his shoulders and pull him in to mess with his hair.
He follows Sutts on to the dance-floor, looking to shake out some of the sugar high all the cola syrup had left him with, losing everyone for a while, just following the beat, eyes closed. When he bumps into a chest, he’s not even a little bit surprised to find that it’s Eric. He always knows where Eric is.
“Having fun, Skins?” Eric is grinning, three buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves shoved up to the elbow. He looks amused and happy and it feels like Jeff’s pleased him but Jeff doesn’t know how since he’s only dancing.
“Yes!” he calls, too late, following it with a grin and a shimmy that has Eric barking a laugh, making Jeff’s brain slosh with a golden-tinted contentment, dripping warm behind his eyes. He giggles at the sensation.
“You’ve never mentioned a name,” Eric says a while later, Jeff’s not sure how long, scratching his fingernails over the edge of Jeff’s wristguard, catching the material a little. Jeff grins up at him.
“It’s funny,” he yells a little over the music, leaning in to be sure Eric can hear, bracing himself on Eric’s chest, “you’ll laugh.” He unsnaps the guard and offers his wrist, tipping his head up, waiting for the familiar bark of amusement.
Eric doesn’t laugh.
***********
Eric catches him in the parking lot, grabbing his sleeve with shaking fingers, gripping tight like he thinks Jeff is going to try and shake him off. It’s just another indication that Eric doesn’t understand anything about him. Jeff may be young but he never backs down from a fight.
“What are you doing?” Eric’s voice is hard but his eyes are scared and Jeff has a momentary sweep of breath-stealing guilt before he pushes it back and out of his head. It still hurts him to hurt Eric, it always will, but Jeff can deal. Jeff covers Eric’s fingers with his own and, as gently as he can, untangles them from the fabric.
“You’re married.” He meets Eric’s eye dead on. Eric stares back but says nothing. There’s nothing to say. Jeff nods and turns his back.
*************
Jeff’s not stupid, he knows he can’t avoid Eric forever, but he just needs a little time to sort out his head, come to terms. He takes a deep breath, sitting on his couch with his palms flat on his knees, staring at the wall until it becomes blurry.
Since they found out, since it became concrete, it was like tuning a radio and finding the increment of crystal clarity between static. All the impressions he’d dismissed as hockey awareness were shards of glass etched with Eric, piercing anywhere his armour was weak. Turns out his armour is weak everywhere.
Jeff feels Eric even before his car pulls to a stop, considers ignoring the bell but ultimately stands. It’s an issue and it needs to be dealt with.
Eric sweeps in as soon as Jeff turns the key, like he thinks Jeff might change his mind. He looks tired, stressed. Jeff can feel it, an itchy restlessness under his skin.
“Your name didn’t appear until I was twenty-four,” Eric says, no preamble, standing silhouetted in front of Jeff’s window, “I was married by then.”
Jeff ignores the twisting ache somewhere where his heart used to be, wraps his arms around himself to keep himself from flying apart, nods along.
“I’m married,” Eric says and it sounds like he’s pleading, though for what Jeff can’t begin to imagine. “I have a son.”
“We can’t tell anyone,” Eric says, eyes fierce, grabbing Jeff’s forearms, palms warm against his skin, sending shocks of worryfeardetermination skipping through his nerves, “they’ll trade one of us away if we tell. We can’t, okay? We need to keep it quiet.”
Jeff nods, says nothing.
Long after Eric leaves, Jeff still feels like he’s saying nothing, just nodding along.
*************
“I asked for a trade.”
His phone is silent save the sound of five people quietly breathing. Eventually Jennifer says, “Oh Jeffy,” and this is why he did it by phone and not skype. Jeff can feel the lump in his throat so he tries to talk it down before it overwhelms him.
“It’s fine! I’ve asked for the Leafs and I’m pretty sure I’ll get it. They’ve got some strong D-men that would make a good swap. At least I get to leave the team better off.”
He trails off and no-one fills the silence, letting it sit until Jeff can control the sob that’s pushing at the back of his teeth.
“I just want to come home,” he whispers, uncaring at how small his voice is. His siblings stay on the phone until he gets all the sore places in himself soothed enough that he can face the world again.
************
When the season ends, Jeff packs up everything and loads his truck. He’s going one way, Gardiner and a couple of picks are coming the other. Jim says nothing will be announced until the draft but the deal is done.
He ignores Eric where he’s loitering around the front of Jeff’s building. He considers, for a split second, driving right by but that’s not Jeff, not the way he does things.
“Are you gonna get out of the truck?” Eric’s voice is gruff, hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts. Again, Jeff considers saying no, just to be contrary. It’s a fleeting thought, one that fades as fast as it came.
Eric shuffles close, until they’re nearly toe to toe, head ducked. His face is pained but Jeff can’t feel bad about it, he has to focus on other things. Instead, he lets his barriers drop, just a little, let’s Eric’s deep earthy brown soak through him for a few minutes, lets Eric take what he needs, then starts gently urging him back. Eric struggles for a second but ultimately goes without complaint. With the barriers back in place, the emptiness makes the hollow in Jeff hurt worse than ever. He shoves it down.
“Does it have to be this way?” Eric asks, voice cracking like it does after a bad loss. Jeff takes a minute to just breathe in his solid presence, a memory to carry with him.
“You’re married,” Jeff says but he takes care to keep his voice soft, all the accusation burned out of him a season ago. Eric nods, scrubbing a hand over his face, before nodding once and straightening up.
“Good luck in Toronto.”
It’s his captain voice and it makes Jeff smile unexpectedly. He nods back, steps away when Eric offers his hand. Eric breathes hard through his nose, takes his time retracting the offer but isn’t pushing it. For that, Jeff is grateful.
“I’ll see you around?”
“Couple of times a year,” Jeff offers with a small smile, climbing back into his truck and snapping his belt in place. Eric waves as Jeff pulls out.
At the end of the road, Jeff glances in his mirror and Eric is still standing where Jeff left him, arm extending in farewell. Jeff breathes until his chest stops feeling like it’s cracking.
*************
He tells Jill, knowing she’ll pass it on so he won’t have to.
“Shit,” she says and Jeff chokes a laugh through the hurt he’s forcing down, “shit!”
“Yeah,” he answers but his voice is watery so he closes his mouth again. He wants to go home. He wants to close his eyes and wake up in his living room, Jill and Ben snuggled together on the couch like kittens, bookended by Andrea and Erica, Jennifer at their feet. He wants them to shove up to make space for him, crowding him in, making him feel small and loved. He just wants to go home.
“It’s not meant to go this way, Jeffy,” Jill says eventually and her voice sounds thick, like she’s crying the tears Jeff can’t find.
They stay that way for a while, snivelling down the phone at each other. Jeff doesn’t talk about how his soulmate, the one that’s meant for him, couldn’t even wait. Doesn’t admit how every recollection of someone telling him being born with his name meant his connection, when it came, would be stronger, causes another fissure. Jill doesn’t offer empty platitudes.
“I love you, Jeffy, always,” she says as they hang up and Jeff nods although she can’t see him.
Eric doesn’t love him but Jill does. Ben does and Jennifer does and Erica does and Andrea does. His parents do.
Jeff just wants to be around the people who love him.
*************
He counts the miles by the lessening of Eric in his body. By a hundred, there’s a throb in his head, not bad enough to stop him but enough that he turns the music off and opens all of the windows. By two, Eric is a ghost in Jeff’s bones, just the slightest of pulls. By three, Jeff doesn’t need his barriers any more, let’s them fall away like water. By the time he reaches Ontario, Jeff belongs solely to himself.
*************
He tries to be a grown-up about it. He tries to honour his contract, honour the commitment he made to Hurricanes hockey the day they drafted him. Jeff isn’t a child anymore, he knows that.
He might have managed it too except for Eric. Eric who is there all the time, nudging their knees together, slinging his arm over Jeff’s shoulders, pulling him in and squeezing him until Jeff feels like he’s all fracture, one tap in the wrong place and he’ll rupture.
Jeff builds walls, cultivates spaces and friendships that take him away from Eric and all the things he can’t have. But Eric won’t stop, forever chipping away at his barriers, trying to wriggle in, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to Jeff, like he doesn’t care.
Jeff takes it all, smiles when Levi is born and sends a horrifically cute and impractical gift, goes to the barbeques Eric announces are mandatory for team bonding, let’s Eric shove their arms together when they’re sitting in adjacent stalls.
It’s nothing big that finally breaks him, just an accumulation of gestures, like never-ending papercuts. One Thursday, Eric announces that Coach wants them running power play drills, reaching out a casual hand to squeeze the back of Jeff’s neck and Jeff’s done.
He calls Jim after practice, before he’s even left the PNC parking lot.
*************
The colours are different, as are the faces, but the ice is familiar along with the roar of the crowd at his back.
His first game for the Leafs feels like taking his first breath.