Chapter Text
April 30 2024, Tampa Florida, Game 5, Series 4-1 Tampa
He wakes up early. Not because he set an alarm or anything, but just because his body wants him to. The blinds are pulled tightly closed, probably by Mitch who hates the sun creeping in, he says that it interrupts his beauty sleep.
The tiny red numbers on the clock of the hotel room show the time 4:16. Auston’s been accustomed to waking up early, has been for 8 years now. It’s the life he signed up for when he became a professional hockey player. But god, there’s no reason to be up at 4 in the morning. There’s no reason to get up for a morning run before hitting the gym. There’s nothing to be training for anymore. Not with another first-round exit.
Auston stuffs his face into a pillow. If he wasn’t beside a sleeping Mitch, he’d scream loudly, get all of his feelings out. It’s not the fact that they lost. Well, it’s partly that - losing sucks, always has, always will - but really, it’s the fact the Auston really, really thought that whatever first-round curse broke when they advanced to the second round last year was gone for good. He thought that this year was going to be their year, the year the Leafs brought the cup back to Toronto. Instead, they let everyone down.
After it becomes apparent that he isn’t falling back asleep, he sits up and lets his eyes adjust to the dark. Rooming with Mitch has just become a thing . Ever since rookie year, even when they weren’t playing on the same line. Neither of them had the seniority for their own room and now that both of them did, they never stopped. Auston’s afraid to hurt Mitch’s feelings by asking, doesn’t know how to bring it up.
Once he feels like he’s sat there thinking for long enough, he stands up, wincing as the bed creaks loudly. The room is pitch black, only illuminated by the clock numbers and the light seeping through the cracks of the door from the hallway.
There’s not enough light in the room to be able to get a good look at Mitch but Auston can see the outline. His hair is sticking up and he’s sprawled the length of his bed, his scrawny elbows peeking out from under the pillows. For a moment, Auston lets himself just imagine Mitch being a normal guy who wasn’t broken by the harsh Toronto media.
He doesn’t deserve this.
A phrase Auston used to find himself repeating over and over and even now, he occasionally lets the thought enter his mind because yeah, it’s true. Mitch doesn’t deserve what the media did to him, no one would deserve it.
Mitch shifts a little, rolling over onto his back. That small movement is what makes Auston realize how much of a creep he’s being just watching Mitch sleep. He quietly grabs a jacket and creeps out of the door, taking care to make as minimal noise as possible.
There’s no one out in the hallway, which is expected. The rest of the guys are probably in their rooms fast asleep. That’s kind of the only thing you feel like doing after you lose in the first round, proving that last year was just a fluke. Auston would be doing that right now if he didn’t have so many thoughts swarming around in his head.
It’s still dark out, which is expected. Auston regrets walking outside with just a black windbreaker, a small Leafs logo on the right side. The wind is way too strong, blowing through Auston’s hair that’s overdue for a haircut. The cold is enough to snap him out of pitying himself.
He starts to blame other people. This isn’t like him at all and he knows it, but he can’t stop. It’s just easier than admitting how much better he could’ve-should’ve played. He didn’t do enough, didn’t shoot enough, score enough, pass enough, but instead of focussing on that, he scrutinizes everyone else because it’s easy. Easy to blame everyone else, to tell himself that the passes he received weren’t good enough, or all the turnovers were because his teammates couldn’t handle his passes. Yeah, it wasn’t his fault, there was nothing Auston could’ve done better.
There’s no reason to stay in the cold for too long, so once his fingertips feel like falling off, he makes his way back inside. According to the clock hung up on the wall, Auston was outside for an hour. It’s now 5:34 and the hotel lobby is starting to come alive. Auston just pulls his hood over his head and keeps his gaze down to the ground as he makes his way to the elevator.
Auston walks back into the room, ready to get ready for an entire day full of annoying press. What he doesn’t expect is Mitch sitting up in his bed, head resting against the headboard, eyes pressed tightly closed, fists clenched.
This isn’t something Auston is used to anymore, seeing Mitch vulnerable that is, so he doesn’t really know what to do. He notices Mitch’s eyes flutter open for a second before they close again, his chest rising and falling at a steady rate before he finally starts to talk.
“M’sorry,”
“For what?” Auston asks because it’s the only thing he can say right now.
“For everything,” Mitch’s voice is so quiet, fragile. “It’s my fault.”
Auston doesn’t know what he’s talking about. On the surface, it’s clear that he’s talking about hockey, what else could it be? And it makes sense too. Mitch made some mistakes, a turnover led to a goal, and failed clears led to shots on the net for the other team. He has a bunch of things to be sorry for. But given their history… He shakes his head, getting those thoughts out of his head.
Words swirl around in his brain, trying to force their way out into the world. Luckily, Auston isn’t impulsive like Mitch, he can actually hold his tongue while he waits for his mind to catch up. It’s how he makes sure that nothing stupid leaves his mouth.
“Mhm,”
Mitch just nods his head as he blinks ferociously. A tear might fall but Auston doesn’t stick around to see. It’s time he gets out of this stupid hotel room filled with stupid memories. There’s no use living in the past when the future’s right here, ready for Auston.
But you can’t focus on the future when you’re stuck in the past.
***
Every off-season is tough in its own way. Some teams have it rough where they just barely missed out on the playoffs, others get so close to the cup but fall short. For the Leafs? The pain is always the same exact heart-wrenching feeling of letting down Toronto.
Auston’s never had to spend off-season alone before. He always had- No. If he wants to move on, he has to stop thinking about before. Because whatever might’ve happened, no matter how good it felt, it’s done, over, finished. And that’s what Auston wanted, what he wants now. So he gets to be alone.
He drums his fingers on his kitchen table as he stares at the cup of coffee that he made to keep him awake. Normally, he’d already be getting back into some schedule of working out and training. But it’s already been 2 weeks and Auston’s barely had enough energy to get out of bed and eat.
Finally, his stomach rumbles loud enough to make Auston search his cupboards for something, anything. When he doesn’t find anything apart from a bag of Skittles, Oreos, and Pringles, he slams the door closed because Auston’s never been one to disregard the meal plan. He’ll just go without eating for now, at least until he builds up enough energy to go to the grocery store.
There was a team meeting this morning, but Auston didn’t go. There was no reason to. Auston couldn’t face his teammates after everything. So he stayed home. Now, his phone is blowing up with text messages.
Message from: Sheldon Keefe
Where were you?
(13:06)
Message from: John Tavares
Are you okay?
(13:09)
Message from: Morgan Rielly
Taking the loss hard?
You did great
(13:11)
Message from: William Nylander
bro, u better be dead
(13:17)
And
Message from: Mitch Marner
hey
(13:23)
it’s not your fault
(13:45)
Auston shuts his phone off, unable to scroll through all of his messages. There’s a lot, not just from his teammates but from his parents and sisters. But it’s all too much, way too much. The concern, worry, Auston doesn’t need it, he’s Auston Matthews ! He’s fine by himself, he doesn’t need to be told that it wasn’t his fault because he’s Auston Matthews, the best player on the Leafs, the top goal scorer in the league, not the one messing everything up.
Whatever Mitch was thinking when he typed out that message, he was wrong. Because Auston doesn’t blame himself.
Message to: Mitch Marner
I know
(14:13)
Maybe Auston could’ve said something else. Mitch is just trying to check in like he always did before, but Auston doesn’t need whatever help Mitch is offering.
Mitch Marner: seen 14:14
Good. It seems Mitch got the message. Yet a small part of him kind of wishes that Mitch would respond, not so Auston can apologize or something, but he needs someone to yell at, someone to blame. And Mitch has always been the easiest target.
The apartment feels bigger now. Every place that the Auston moves to feels large and empty. When he plops down on the couch, he starts talking like there’s someone beside him. When he turns to look, he remembers that he’s alone. Maybe there could be someone here, but Auston burned down that bridge last year.
But if he grabs his phone now, he can call someone, text someone, and the majority of his teammates would rush over to hang out with him. Maybe that’s not that bad of an idea. Auston feels like he’s going to crazy if he doesn’t talk to anyone.
Message to: William Nylander
You wanna come over?
(14:25)
William might not be Auston’s first choice, but he’s good enough.
Message from: William Nylander
oh good, ur alive
but uh
i’m hanging with marns
ur welcome to come but
(14:23)
No worries have fun
(14:24)
u too
(14:28)
Great, of course, William is hanging out with Mitch. Why did Auston think any differently? So he moves on to his next choice. Morgan’s around the same age even if he acts like a 50-year-old man.
Message to: Morgan Rielly
You free?
(14:32)
Message from: Morgan Rielly
No, sorry
(14:37)
That’s cool
U and Tessa doing something?
(14:38)
Um, I’m actually heading over to JT’s with Marns and Willy
Sorry
(14:40)
Of course, Morgan’s hanging out with Mitch. He and JT like adopted him in his rookie year. They’re always worried about him like he’s still some young 19-year-old kid who needs to be protected from every single thing in the world. That hasn’t gone away 8 years later.
Youre good
(14:42)
Just asked Mitch and youre welcome to come over
If you want
(14:47)
Thanks but Willy already offered
I’m good
Tell Mitch I say hi
(14:49)
Got it
(14:50)
Auston’s done trying. He throws his phone to the other side of the couch while he reaches for the remote. He puts on some mindless show from his continue watching list on Netflix before he shuts the TV off, realizing that this was the show that-
Maybe Auston isn’t as over everything as he thought.