Chapter Text
Playing hockey with a mutilated hand wasn’t fun in the slightest. Actually, he decides that applies to everything, not just hockey.
Kevin was blinking back tears as he tried to close his left hand around his cereal spoon. ‘Fuck you Riko. Fuck you cereal spoon. Fuck you cereal.’ He thought to himself, before standing up and pouring it into the trash can and slamming his bowl down on the counter unceremoniously. Neil can take care of that later.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew recovery was going to take a long time, but Kevin was so used to being better than average . He needed to get back on the rink, but how was he going to do that if he couldn’t even tighten his skates without having to put his head between his knees? He missed the solid and familiar weight of his hockey stick. Its length and bend custom for his playing style and build. The routine of re-taping his stick with Palmetto University orange tape. Skating over to Abby for gatorade during water breaks and her words of encouragement being a kindness he still has to get used to. Reviewing plays with Wymack over smoothies in lieu of father-son bonding.
His (frankly, quite depressing) thoughts were interrupted by the dorm room door closing loudly, and the familiar sound of a duffel bag being dropped on the floor. Aaron was back from a tournament. Kevin should’ve been at that tournament.
“Hey dude, how was Kingston?” Kevin asked, walking over to Aaron and giving him a hug.
“Pretty good all things considered. Your dad hasn’t signed me up for any marathons, so there’s not much more I can ask for.” He laughs, wrapping his arms around his teammate’s waist “How’s your hand? Getting any better?”
“Mhm… don’t wanna talk about that right now. What lineup is Coach planning for next game? He’s refusing to tell me anything.” He asks, breaking the hug and following Aaron to the kitchenette.
“Well, I don't wanna talk about that right now, soo… How about a game of chess?” Aaron suggests, pulling out a bottle of ice tea from the fridge, and two cups from a cupboard. He holds one of the glasses up in Kevin’s direction.
“Um, no thanks, I’ll stick to water,” but Aaron hands him some anyways “And hold on. You’re challenging me to a game of chess?” Kevin questions.
“Surprising, eh?” He laughs, “I don’t know… I missed you.”
Kevin had missed him too. So much. Aaron was like a short emotional support blanket, but combined with being on the rink so frequently, and bad circulation a consequence of past drug abuse, he wasn’t the warmest blanket ever.
“Ugh, you fucking sap. Well, there’s no backing out now. You have signed your honour away, good sir.” He said, and grinned, for the first time in a while.
They sat down on the floor opposite each other around the coffee table, making small talk as they set up the pieces. Aaron always mixed up the knights and the bishops, so Kevin had to double check they were all in their proper places. They drew for white or black, and Kevin ended up having the first move. He pushed his pawn forward with such confidence that Aaron exhaled shakily, taking off his backwards baseball hat, fixing his hair and putting it back on, which got a laugh out of Kevin, amused that Aaron is regretting his decisions so early on.
“You’re going to be the end of me, Day.”
“Just be glad it’s not Andrew and his stabby stabby.”