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It wasn’t an official practice. Technoblade had invited Wilbur to have an 1v1 scrimmage on one of their days off from practice.
Wilbur had been pretty excited. This wasn’t the first time he and Technoblade had time to hang out on the rink. Wilbur loved not having to worry about passing to teammates; he loved trash talking Technoblade (all in good fun, of course) while he tried to get the puck past Technoblade’s rather impressive goal-keeping.
So, naturally, Wilbur had to go and twist his ankle on the way to the rink.
The bus had just dropped Wilbur off at the station nearest to the rink. Wilbur was already five minutes late, and even though he knew Technoblade wouldn’t mind that much, certain habits were hard to shake off. He could remember how his old team would react whenever Wilbur arrived late, how his coach would demand to know if Wilbur even wanted to play hockey to begin with, or if he was just as well miss the entirety of practice.
He knew Technoblade was different. Wilbur knew. The fact that Wilbur would even think to compare Technoblade to his old coach was horrifying in more ways than one. Guilt pulsed inside of Wilbur, but he didn’t stop running. Regardless of Technoblade’s reaction, Wilbur wanted to get on the ice as soon as possible, and—
Wilbur’s foot caught on a slab of sidewalk that was sticking out. Wilbur’s ankle twisted painfully beneath him as Wilbur dropped his bag and frantically brought his forearms out to catch his fall. His face narrowly missed hitting the concrete, and Wilbur hurriedly tried to pick himself back up.
His ankle let out a cry of agony, and Wilbur collapsed back to the ground, this time on his bottom. Wilbur gingerly brought his injured ankle, trying to roll it and alleviate the pain.
The pain was not remotely alleviated, and Wilbur grimaced. He couldn’t just sit in the middle of the side walk forever, and Technoblade was still waiting for him.
Wilbur got back on his feet, this time only standing on his uninjured foot. He awkwardly hopped over to a wall to lean on as Wilbur experimentally walked on his injured ankle.
It was still quite angry at him, and it hurt a great deal. Still, Wilbur could manage to walk on it relatively normally, and he could school his expression to hide the pain. Technoblade need never know, and Wilbur could continue playing normally.
Wilbur knew what happened when he arrived at practices with an injury. His coach would either look all disappointed in him, and he’d quietly demand what stupid thing Wilbur had done to get injured in the first place. None of Wilbur’s reasons satisfied him.
“Do you want to sit out, Soot?” his coach would ask. “I’m sure you were just waiting for an opportunity, weren’t you?”
Wilbur would shake his head frantically. “No, sir. Of course, not. I want to play.”
“Good.” His coach would point at the rink. “Now get on the ice and don’t be a baby about it. I don’t let babies on my team, now do I?”
“No, sir.” Wilbur kept his head down as he got back onto the rink. The others would jeer as he struggled to keep his balance due to whatever injury he would have.
Wilbur had managed to stay relatively uninjured during his time with Phil, and he didn’t know how Phil or any of the others would react if he had an injury that would prevent him from playing on the ice. So far, Wilbur hadn’t ever gotten an injury that fully prevented him from playing on the ice. Sure, they prevented Wilbur from being on the ice comfortably, but Wilbur wasn’t a child. He could handle a bit of pain.
Wilbur still indulged with some limping on his way to the rink. When he got inside, he forced himself to walk as normally as possible, and he texted Technoblade to let him know he was there. Technoblade responded soon after.
On ice already
Marvelous. That meant Wilbur could get his skates on without Technoblade hovering, and Wilbur could be able to moan and grimace to his heart’s content.
Getting his skates on was harder than Wilbur would care to admit. Walking with his skates was even worse, and Wilbur was forced to put more strain on his ankles in order to balance on his blades. Wilbur took a couple of practice laps around the locker-room before deciding that he had “normal” walking down pat. Hopefully, Technoblade wouldn’t notice if any of Wilbur’s skating was off.
Technoblade was standing outside of the rink entrance, and he smiled when he saw Wilbur approach.
“Hey, Wil,” he said. “Traffic particularly bad?”
“You could say that,” Wilbur huffed. He put on his helmet. “I had a late start too. Sorry.”
“No problem,” Technoblade said with a shrug. Wilbur hated that he was relieved. Being relieved meant he expected something worse, and Wilbur hated that he had, at least on a subconscious level, expected Technoblade to be cruel and unfair over Wilbur being slightly late to an unofficial practice.
They got on the ice. Wilbur’s ankle flared up in pain as he put his weight on it, and Wilbur slipped. He managed to grab hold of the side of the rink before he could properly fall, and Technoblade skated to his side, hovering worriedly.
“You good?”
Wilbur nodded, allowing himself a small expression of pain before smoothing it out. “Yeah. Just slipped. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Technoblade said. “You’re not injured anywhere, are you? If you’re not up to skating—”
“I’m fine!” Wilbur said. His voice might have been a tad too frantic and maybe a little too high-pitched, because Technoblade’s expression somehow seemed more concerned at Wilbur’s words. “Sorry. I’m fine. Seriously. I don’t want to miss this.”
Technoblade was still frowning, but he nodded. “Alright. Just checking.”
They skated to the center of the rink, and they started their scrimmage. Technoblade was thoroughly beating Wilbur, making score after score. Wilbur could barely manage to get the puck away from Technoblade, and even that took extreme amounts of effort. Wilbur broke into a cold sweat as he tried to maintain focus. The pain in his ankle seemed to only compound the longer he stayed on the ice, but he couldn’t show weakness. Technoblade wouldn’t respect him at all—
Technoblade shot the puck toward Wilbur’s net, and Wilbur frantically turned on his skates to stop it in time. His stick connected with the puck, and the puck skidded in the opposite direction. Wilbur could only manage a split-second grin of victory before he lost balance from his sudden movement and tumbled to the ground.
Wilbur inhaled painful breaths as he lay on the cold, wet ice.
“Wilbur!” Technoblade cried out. Wilbur could hear him drop his hockey stick as he skated toward Wilbur, skidding to a stop beside him.
Wilbur couldn’t’ keep lying on the ice, as nice as his ankle felt at the moment. Technoblade probably had lost all respect for him, and Wilbur wasn’t about to make it any worse.
Wilbur pulled himself up to a sitting position, and Technoblade offered his hands out. Wilbur took them, and he tried to pull himself to his feet. Wilbur’s ankle seared in pain, and Wilbur cried out and collapsed back to the ground.
“Where does it hurt?” Technoblade immediately demanded, hardly missing a beat.
Wilbur managed a pained grin. “It’s nothing, Techno—”
“Don’t try to pull that on me,” Technoblade said. His voice was harsh, but there was worry behind his eyes. It didn’t sound at all like his old coach. “I know you’re injured, and I can’t help you if I don’t know where.”
Wilbur frowned. “I’m… I’m fine.”
Technoblade’s expression softened. “I don’t know what your old team told you about injuries on the ice, but I’ll tell you what me and Phil both strongly believe. If being on the ice causes you pain, you shouldn’t be on the ice. Alright? Tell me where you’re injured.”
Wilbur wanted to roll up into a ball and disappear. He had thought he was doing the right thing by hiding his injury, but he had only made things worse by hiding it. Did Technoblade want Wilbur off the team now? Now that Technoblade realized how foolish Wilbur could be?
“It’s my ankle,” Wilbur said wretchedly. “I twisted it or something.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Technoblade said. “Let’s see if I can’t help you with that.”
Technoblade helped Wilbur back to his feet, and Wilbur leaned against Technoblade for support as they skated off the rink. Technoblade had Wilbur sit down on one of the benches and not move as he got first aide equipment.
“You don’t have to—”
“I do have to,” Technoblade said. “You’re my friend. Why wouldn’t I want to help?”
“It’s not your problem if I can’t handle a bit of pain,” Wilbur said.
“Can’t handle a bit of pain?” Technoblade looked properly angry now, and Wilbur curled up in on himself. “No, wait, sorry, I wasn’t angry at you.”
Wilbur looked up at Technoblade in surprise. “What?”
Technoblade’s expression wasn’t angry anymore, although he did look very sad. “I wasn’t mad at you, Wil. I was mad at the bastards who taught you that.”
“But it’s true,” Wilbur protested weakly. “I want to skate; I’m not going to let a twisted ankle stop me from doing that.”
“You do realize that if you don’t get the ankle treatment, it’s only going to get worse, right?”
Wilbur did, to a certain extent, know this. IN certain situations were Wilbur had to skate through the pain, it got to the point where Wilbur physically could not even stand up. Wilbur’s coach would yell at him for his laziness, and Wilbur would be allowed to recover enough to be able to get back on the ice again.
It had never been worth it to Wilbur, though. He hated the ire he’d gain from his coach and teammates because of his inability not to injure himself or stay strong through the pain. He’d much rather be able to skate as long as possible.
“Yeah, but…” Wilbur bit the inside of his cheek and stared down at his skates.
Technoblade sat down next to Wilbur. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he said quietly. “But it might help.”
“I just… I thought that not skating was… bad?” Wilbur grimaced at his poor articulation. “I mean, that. Well, I’m an adult. I can skate through a little pain. I’m not going to bring the whole team down because of my laziness.”
“Taking care of yourself is not laziness,” Technoblade said. His voice was soft but stern. “Alright? And, in the end, you’re going to be of no help to yourself or your teammates if you’re on the verge of collapsing onto the ice.”
Technoblade was right, and the treacherous tugging sensation began to build up in Wilbur’s throat. “Sorry,” Wilbur whispered.
“You don’t’ have to be sorry,” Technoblade said. “You were just trying to do what was right. Can you let me patch you up now? Or at least attempt to?”
Wilbur nodded, blinking away the tears that were forming in his eyes. You would think he’d be old enough to control his emotions by now.
“Yeah,” Wilbur muttered. “Sure.”
Technoblade got a first aid kit, and Wilbur carefully took off his right skate. He peeled away his sock as well, and Wilbur frowned at the bruised swelling that had formed around his ankle. Maybe Technoblade was right, and Wilbur should have just left it well enough alone.
Technoblade had Wilbur elevate his ankle and put some ice on the swelling, and Wilbur felt much better already. He was pretty sure he only felt better because he was no longer actively putting his weight on the injury, but it was still a major relief.
“Do you need pain killers?” Technoblade asked.
“Pain killers would be great,” Wilbur said. He gave Technoblade a grateful smile. “I appreciate the help, man.”
“You’re my friend.” Technoblade squeezed Wilbur on the shoulder. “Of course, I’ll help. And Wil?”
Wilbur looked up at Technoblade. “yeah?”
“If you can’t skate because of an injury, please don’t hide it.” Technoblade’s eyes were imploring. “I, and the rest of the team, want each other to stay safe. We don’t’ want you to be miserable in order to skate with us, and we certainly don’t’ want you to be hurt.”
Wilbur looked away. “You sure about that?”
“I’m dead certain.” Technoblade’s voice was so convicted that Wilbur would have a hard time not believing him. “Please tell us when you’re hurt. We can help. I promise.”
Wilbur gave Technoblade a watery smile. “I’ll try,” he said. “I’ll try to do better.”
Technoblade’s shoulders sagged in relief. “That’s all I ask.”
Wilbur opened his arms up for a hug, and Technoblade let out a small sigh before hugging him. It was a short embrace, but it was enough for Wilbur to know that Technoblade was being honest with him.
“Thanks."