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Wherever I Go, You'll Always Be Next to Me

Summary:

He worked twice as much then he should have today, and yet he still felt like he underperformed. Pushing himself to train a little bit more that day, his knee gave out, and his leg crumbled under the weight, and he crashed to the ground. If Matt found out or saw, he’d force him to see a doctor. That meant he’d end up being benched and there was no way he was about to let that happen. He couldn't be benched. All his hard work would be for nothing. He would have nothing to show for the rest of the season if he’s just on the bench.

Notes:

Critiques are welcome! Enjoy!

Title is from Telephones by Vacations

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

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It was around 1 pm by the time Connor got home. He realized Matt was still out with his team having lunch judging by the abnormal quietness of the house. Usually, he’d hear his loud footsteps, his Instagram reels playing at an obscene volume, or something of the sort, but now he heard nothing. Connor never liked coming home to silence even though he used to all the time, but now he can’t live without the noise.

He set his shit down at the front door, in their usual designated pile of hockey stuff they can’t be bothered to clean right now. Or later. Connor was tired as hell and yeah, today was his day off, but he didn’t believe in days off. He went to the rink by himself today just to get some extra practice in even though Matt warned him he shouldn't. Maybe he should have listened as he was feeling a lot of pain in his right knee when he thought about it, but he pushed that thought to the back of his head. He’s felt worse pain before, so there’s no need to dwell and think about this pain now.

He worked twice as much then he should have today, and yet he still felt like he underperformed. He feels like he's been constantly slacking even though his coach has been telling him he’s been putting in the most work on his team, but his brain won't let him be convinced. He’ll probably sit for just a bit before he goes to work out just a little bit more before Matt gets him home, calls him out on it, and forces him to sit down.

Taking a step towards the couch, he feels the pain from his knee shooting up and down his leg, but that’s to be expected after he’s spent so many years hardcore training in hockey, so yet again he ignores it, going to sit on the couch. The second he sits down, feeling relief in his knee, his brain starts to tell him that he’s being lazy, a voice echoing in the back of his head constantly nagging him and making him feel the need to be constantly working so he can be at the top of the league because look where his previous training got him. Drafted to the fucking Chicago Blackhawks of all teams. Sitting for less than 2 minutes, Connor managed to convince himself he didn't need the rest and to just go work out in the gym room for just 20 more minutes. After all, no pain, no gain.

Getting up from the couch, feeling the pain once again, he walks towards their gym room, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge on the way. Walking in, some walls lined with weight racks and machines pushed up against others, a treadmill on one side, and piles of resistance bands and ankle weights. His knee ached as he stepped closer to the bench. Setting his bottle down, he rolled his shoulder and picked up two weights, starting light as a “warm up.”

After his reps, he made his way to the leg press, although something was warning him that this might not be a smart idea. He pushed out a few reps on this machine, with a small amount of weight, but unconsciously used one leg more than the other. Each time he pressed, he felt his knee twinge in pain, but he was focused on pushing through. Words from the media, his coaches, his parents even, rang through his ears. He felt like nothing he did was enough. It was never enough to satisfy himself anymore.

Pulling the lock on the machine, he rolled off the machine and moved on to doing barbell squats. He felt like his legs were the weakest part of his body so he’s been training them a lot more than he usually does. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck and his forehead. He shook out his one leg in pain, trying to loosen it. Loading the bar with his eights, he then gripped it and positioned it over his shoulders, taking it off the rack. The second he began to squat he felt a sharp, jolt of pain shoot through his knee He hissed, then clenched his jaw and he attempted to straighten up with the weight.

He went down again and felt the same pain, just worse. He knew he should stop at this point and he kept trying to tell himself that, but stopping also meant weakness. It meant facing the reality that he doesn’t know his own limits and he pushed himself too hard on accident. Like a rookie.

Just one more set, his brain kept telling him even though his body and knee were begging for him to stop. One more and then he will be done. He lowered himself for the final rep, and then it happened. His knee gave out, a loud pop and crunch echoed loudly throughout the room, and his leg crumbled under the weight, he crashed to the ground, his vision blurry as tears clouded his eyes and pain exploded throughout his knee and leg. The barbell came clattering to the floor. For a moment, he realized he couldn't move.

Connor lay there on his side, panting, feeling every muscle in his body screaming in hot searing aches from the over-exertion and his knee in excruciating pain. A pain that he couldn’t just ignore anymore, but he couldn't let this stop him. He pushed himself up from the ground, teeth gritting in agony and tears dripping onto the floor as he used his shaking arms to grip the bench and steady himself as he rose up onto his one good leg.

He straightened out the bad leg, almost testing it, but it didn’t feel right. It was unstable, but he forced himself to stand on it.
“Fuck,” he muttered behind his gritted teeth. He limped over to the fallen weights. The re-racking process took way longer than it normally does and he began to somehow re-rack them exactly how they had been before, as if no one had been in here at all. As if nothing happened. Since no one saw, it didn’t matter. If Matt found out or saw, he’d force him to see a doctor or even bring him to the emergency room. That meant he’d end up being benched and there was no way he was about to let that happen. He couldn't be benched. All his hard work would be for nothing. He would have nothing to show for the rest of the season if he’s just on the bench.

Connor limped out of the gym, and each step sent a new wave of pain up into his knee. Walking down the hallway and into their bedroom, he felt his knee was swollen, and it was throbbing almost in tune with his heartbeat, but he didn’t care. As long as he was able to walk and function, he was fine. No one could make him stop or sit out if no one knew and he would not let anyone find out. Tomorrow he’ll wrap up his knee tight, take some Advil, and push through the pain. Just like he always does. He sat in their bed, taking off his sweaty shirt and replacing it with one of Matt’s that was tossed onto the bed from this morning. He crawled under the blankets and reached into his nightside table, grabbing some painkillers and swallowing them alongside some water. Maybe if he just shut his eyes for a bit and took a nap, the pain will go away when he wakes up. It’s probably just like any other knee pain he’s had before. It goes away after a while, right? He shut his eyes, encased with the scent of Matt from his side of the bed and the shirt that he was wearing, and he let himself succumb to the sleepiness. The feeling of tiredness overtakes the feeling of pain.

Connor stirred in bed, his eyes still closed, as he heard the door slam and shoes being kicked off against the wall. He was reminded of the pain once again as it came back hitting him at full force the second he came to partial reality, now clenching his eyes shut tighter. Matt’s home.
His voice fills the quiet house, “Connor? You home?” he called out, heading straight to the kitchen to drop his leftovers, hoping to use it for lunch tomorrow. No response from Connor though.
“Con? You better not be in the gym again!” His voice playfully grumbled, and he was able to hear the loud sounds of his footsteps too.

He was still asleep and drowsy from the painkillers he took, but he slowly started to open his eyes as he heard Matt’s loud footsteps come closer to their room. His body was heavy with exhaustion, each limb feeling like it weighed 200 pounds. His knee throbbed underneath the blanket, and he stayed put, hoping Matt wouldn’t make him move. He hopes he isn’t too concerned with the fact that he didn't come running to him the second he got home this time like Connor normally did.

“Hey, you lazy ass. You're still exactly where I left you this morning,” Matt said as he appeared in the bedroom doorway, a playful grin on his face and Connor looked up at him.
“Come sit in the kitchen with me while I make some lunch for tomorrow with the leftovers. I want some company. I’ve missed you.”

Connor groaned, shoving his face a little further into the pillow. His body was already protesting at just the thought of getting up.

“No. Don’t wanna. Tired. Come lay with me,” he mumbled, saying the quickest and shittiest excuse his half-asleep brain could come up with to get Matt to stop asking. It was true at least.

Matt rolled his eyes.
“C'mon, get up, you've been in bed all day. Just for a little bit at least and then we can fuck or cuddle. Your choice,” Matt offered while smirking suggestively. Right. Connor didn't tell Matt he was going to the rink today so he thinks he's been in bed since Matt left to go out with his team earlier today.

Connor’s heart raced in his chest, nervous, but he tried not to show it. He pulled the blanket up higher, attempting to hide his face and how stiff and in pain his whole body felt.
“How about we cuddle now? I’m so tired.”

“Tired? From what?” Matt laughed as he walked towards the bed. Connor hoped it was to just cuddle.
“You didn’t even have practice today. Get up, babe.”

Before Connor could make up an excuse or even get in another word, Matt reached out to the little bit of his arm that was peeking out of the blanket and yanked him up with a playful force, and out of bed. Connor’s body and especially his knee, screamed in protest at the sudden movement, barely having time to brace himself as pain exploded with pain as soon as Matt pulled him up and to stand on the floor and unintentionally forced him to put weight on it. His knee buckled under the weight, and it gave out, Connor collapsed onto the floor in front of Matt. Great. This was the last thing he wanted to happen. So much for not wanting to tell anyone.

“Shit!” Connor gasped out as he hit the floor, clutching at his knee and his eyes welling up with tears once again. The pain was excruciating. Unable to think about anything else other than it. For a second it felt as though he couldn't even breathe. Matt froze, his eyes were wide with shock.
“Connor, what the fuck-”

Connor grits his teeth and attempts to play it off, but it was too late for that.
“I’m fine,” he hissed out while trying to push himself up even though his knee was basically screaming at him. Matt rushed to kneel beside him, panic increasing.
“What the hell do you mean you’re fine? You just collapsed!”

Connor refused to meet Matt’s eyes, clenching his jaw. He knew if he looked he’d break down. “It’s nothing, I swear, Matty.”

Matt’s voice hardened, his expression darkening.
“Connor. What did you do? Don’t you dare bullshit me.”

Connor’s body trembled as he tried to hide and fight through the pain, shaking his head.
“It’s fine… I just overdid it today at the rink and gym. That’s it.”

There was anger behind Matt’s eyes now, mixed with concern.
“You need to go to a doctor, Con,” he said sternly.

“No!” Connor snapped back, with more force than he originally intended.
“No doctors, please. I’m not getting benched over something this stupid.”

Disbelief swept over Matt’s face, staring at him.
“Connor, this isn't about being benched! You can barely fucking stand. You're hurt, baby.” This only seemed to anger Connor more.

“I don’t care!” He shouted out, still struggling to even sit up on the floor.
“If I don’t go to the doctor, then they can’t sit me out. I’m still in the game.”

Matt shook his head at him, placing one of his hands on his back, rubbing it up and down trying to soothe him.
“I have to take you, Con. You can’t just walk this off,” he said softly, but firmly.
Connor wiped at his face, trying to not let Matt see as he tried to hold back the flood of tears that was about to happen.
“I can’t,” Connor muttered, his voice shaky.
“Matt, I can’t. They need me. If I go and they find something–anything– I’ll be out. I can’t do that to them.”

Matt sighed, looking anywhere but at Connor’s face now, trying to think and gather his thoughts. “I get it, baby. I know how much this team means to you, but you’re going to make this so much worse if you keep on going this way.” He moved his hand to his jaw, stroking it with his thumb gently.

Connor shook his head as his eyes glistened and his control of his emotions began to slip away. Once the tears started flowing, he wouldn’t be able to get them to stop.
“You don’t understand, Matt,” he whispered as the first tear began to slowly fall.
“Hockey is all that I have going for me. If they find something wrong… If they bench me or even worse… then what? What if it’s serious? What if I can’t play anymore?” Connor’s voice getting increasingly more panicked as he went on, the weight of his fears overwhelming him more and more, finally making eye contact with Matt as the tears poured down

Matt’s heart shattered watching him plead. He knew how much of Connor’s identity relied on hockey. It was everything to him for as long as they had known each other and since he was born. The thought of being benched felt like the end of the world to Connor. Like he failed.

“Your team will be fine, baby,” Matt smiled softly at him, pulling Connor closer to him into a hug. “You’ve already done so much for them. If you keep trying to push through this, it'll only make it worse. Then you will really have to sit out, for longer than you want or would even have to now.”

Connor buried his face into Matt’s chest, clutching at him, practically sobbing now and Matt could feel the tears soak through his shirt.
“Please, Matt. Don’t take me. I don’t need it. I’ll be fine, just don’t let them take hockey away from me.”

Matt’s arms tightened around him. Each time Connor spoke, it tore at Matt more and more.
“I know you're scared, Con, but this is your body telling you something is wrong. It can get so much worse if you keep letting it go on.”

“I can’t,” Connor cried out. His voice began to sound raw with exhaustion and fear.
“Hockey’s all I have. It’s all I’ve known. It’s everything. If I lose that–”

“You’re not going to lose hockey,” Matt interrupted, firmly, “but you will if you don’t start taking care of yourself and letting yourself rest.” He reached up with his other hand and cupped Connor’s face in his hands, forcing him to look at Matt when he began to look down.
“You don’t have to do this by yourself, okay? I’m here. We’ll figure it out together, but you’re not risking any more injury and harm just so you can play a few extra games.”

Connor’s body continued to shake as he sobbed and tried to hold on, but he was too tired. Too scared. His loud protests began dissolving into small and broken cries. Ignoring how much it pained him to see Connor in this much despair over something like this, Matt got in position to stand, gently scooping Connor up and into his arms and his grip on his shirt tightened as if he was scared Matt would drop him. Matt would never let that happen. Matt continued out of their room, putting his shoes back on and crouching with Connor still in his arms to grab his keys and Connor’s wallet off the table. As he exited the house and carried him to the car, he whispered soft, soothing words to him, as he listened to Connor’s pleas to not take him.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” Matt whispered as he put Connor’s seatbelt on.
“I know it’s scary, but I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Connor’s sobs quieted, turning to small sniffles, but Matt could still see the fear in his eyes as he got into the driver's seat.

When Matt turned the key forward and started the car, Connor’s panic returned, and more tears fell once again.
“Please, Matt… Please don’t. I’ll be fine, I swear–just give me some time, I’ll be okay…”

Matt reached over to hold Connor’s hand tightly in his.
“I know, I know, but you have to do this, Con. You’ll end up hurting yourself more if you don't get this checked out and then it won’t just be a couple of weeks—it could be months. Maybe longer.”

Connor’s cries grew louder, fear encasing him.
“What if they tell me I can’t play again?” He whispered, almost as if he didn't want Matt to hear him, his voice breaking mid-sentence.

Matt squeezed his hand, his heart aching.
“I can guarantee you that isn’t going to happen, but if it does, we’ll deal with it if it comes to that. You can’t keep doing this to yourself though. You’ll get better, Con, but not if you ignore it.”

Connor only seemed to cry harder, and Matt had to fight to keep his own emotions down. Seeing Connor upset made him upset. The drive to the clinic felt like it took years, the weight of Connor’s fear suffocating the both of them. Matt kept glancing over to Connor, squeezing his hand, and offering reassuring words when he could, but he felt like nothing would quiet the panic in Connor.

By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the clinic, Connor had calmed down a little bit, but a few tears still escaped his eyes. He took the key out of the ignition and got out, coming around to help Connor out of the car.
“I’m here,” Matt whispered as he helped him out to stand on his one good leg, one arm wrapped protectively around his waist.
“You’ll get through this.”

Despite the pain he could see etched across Connor’s face, he leaned into Matt, trusting him to hold him up, his body weak from both the emotional and physical strain of today.
“Please don’t let them take it from me, Matty,” he whispered one last time.

Matt pressed a kiss to his temple.
“It won’t come to that. I promise.” With Connor leaning on him, they headed into the clinic, Matt hoping for the best, but Connor was still scared out of his mind. Matt knew it wouldn't be as bad as Connor thought it would be.

The waiting room felt cold, amplified by the white walls, and the faint buzzing of the lights overhead. Connor limped over to sit in the uncomfortable chairs and stared blankly at the wall ahead of him as Matt talked to the receptionist. His knee throbbed in sync with his heartbeat, he realized, when Matt walked back and sat next to him. The nerves somehow still knotted in his stomach, despite the comforting presence of his boyfriend next to him. Matt seemed to realize this, as he kept a hand on Connor’s knee, squeezing from time to time when he noticed Connor getting antsy.

After what felt like hours, the door before the long hall opened, a nurse walked into the waiting room and called Connor’s name. Matt helped him stand, holding his waist and guiding him. They went through the usual motions of a doctor’s visit– filling out forms he’s sworn he’s filled out a million times before, answering questions about his general health and how he hurt himself, making Connor blush at how embarrassing it was to him, and Matt hovering next to him protectively. He kept quiet most of the time, the fear of the diagnosis and time off he’d have to take lingering over his head. He let Matt do most of the talking for him. No difference from when he was a kid making his mom talk for him at the doctor's.

The nurse brought them to a separate and more private room and once they were inside the nurse told them the doctor would be with them shortly, closing the door behind her as she left. Connor used his one good leg to lightly hop onto the exam table, his legs hanging off. Matt sat in the chairs close by, watching him with a small smile on his face, trying to reassure Connor with just his expression and somehow it was working, even though he knew Matt was probably just as worried as he was. Shortly after, the doctor came in, looking at his clipboard and flipping through the sheets that Connor had filled out earlier. Sitting down at his desk, he clicked the mouse for the computer a few times before looking over to Connor.
“Well, Connor, it looks like we're going to need to get an X-ray of that knee of yours so we can figure out the extent of the damage.” Connor clenched his teeth, trying to keep his breathing steady.
“You can head down to the radiology room. It’s the last door on the right,” the doctor finished, before making his exit quickly, leaving Connor and Matt alone again.
Matt looked over at him, trying to read his expression.
“Okay, baby, you ready?”
Connor nodded, hopping off the exam table and yet again letting Matt help and lead him to the X-ray room down the hall. Connor refused to look at anywhere but the ground as they walked. Or limped in Connor’s context.

Matt wasn’t able to come into the room with him, so after both he and the doctor helped him onto the table, he told Connor he’d be sitting right outside. He wasn’t going anywhere. Yet, as the door closed, his anxiety spiked again, looking at the radiologist coming out from behind the glass. She helped him to get in position for the pictures to be taken.

It wasn’t long before they were finished with the X-rays and he was guided back to their original exam room. Connor just wanted this to be over already. He was sick of the smell and the sight of the white walls and fluorescent lights. As they were waiting for the results, Matt stood and leaned against the table Connor was sitting on, holding his hand and giving him squeezes in reassurance.

For the final time of the day, the doctor stepped in once again holding the clipboard with new papers. He glanced at Connor’s red and throbbing knee, and then back at the X-rays as he pulled them up on the computer, clicking his tongue. Matt and Connor both glanced to see the pictures too, and Matt’s eyebrows shot up, eyes widening. Connor knew that is not what a normal knee should look like if he knew anything.

“Well, the good news we have for you is that it’s not as bad as it could have been. It is a serious sprain and we found some ligament strain as well, but thankfully there are no major fractures or tears, and nothing is broken,” the doctor said in a light tone.
“Although, that being said, this didn’t come out of nowhere. From what youve been describing and telling me about your training these past few weeks, I’m surprised it wasnt a lot worse. You’ve been working yourself down to the bone, and that’s exactly why this happened.”

The words the doctor said hit him like a punch to the gut. Connor swallowed hard. His biggest fear had always been getting injured, and now it was his own fault. He did this to himself.

“You have to rest, Connor,” he said sternly, continuing.
“Around four to six weeks of no training and extensive physical movement. You’ll have to start physiotherapy as soon as possible if you want to help speed up the recovery process, but, you need to understand that the more you keep trying to push through it, the longer it’s going to take to heal, okay? You could cause a lot more damage too.”

Connor felt his chest tighten. Reality settling in, but beneath the immense disappointment he felt, there was a small bit of relief. It was not a career-ending injrury. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, and for that he was glad. He would be able to play again, of course.

His boyfriend leaned in closer to him, noticing Connor’s spaced out look, his hand on his shoulder.
“See? It’s not the end of the world, Con. It sucks, yeah, but it couldve been a lot worse.”

The doctor nodded in agreement.
“Exactly. You’re lucky you came in when you did. If you keep up with your physio you’ll be back on the ice in no time, but you also have to give yourself time and rest to heal.”

Connor nodded, staying quiet and biting the inside of his cheek. He hated the idea of resting. Resting while the rest of his team was out there working on the ice and playing without him. The thought of never being able to to play hockey again scared him more.

Matt thanked the doctor, and they were headed back home soon enough. The drive was quiet, but it wasn’t tense. It was peaceful. Matt’s hand never left Connor’s. His thumb stroking the topside of his hand gently.

They finally arrived home and Matt helped Connor out of the car and inside, guiding him to their bedroom.
“Okay, you’re officially all mine to take care of and that means you get the princess treatment you deserve and have been missing out on from here on out,” Matt said laughing, trying to lighten the mood.
“You’re going to relax and let me take care of everything, yeah?”

Connor scoffed, but he had a small smile on his face, nodding.
“I don’t need princess treatment, Matt, I’m fine,” he said giggling.

“Nope,” Matt said, shaking his head.
“You are definitely not fine. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard and I’ve seen the way it's been affecting you.” Matt walked around to the other side of the bed, sitting beside Connor, lying against the headboard, and pulled him close.
“I know how much pressure you’ve been put under. You didn’t deserve that shit. It’s too much, and you need to know your limits. You can’t keep going until it all comes crashing down, baby. You don’t need to do that.”

Connor sighed and leaned his head back against Matt’s shoulder, finally letting himself relax without feeling guilty.
“I just didn’t want to make anyone disappointed in me. Didn’t wanna let anyone down. My team, my coach… you. I felt like I had something to prove.”

Matt buried his nose in Connor’s hair, kissing the top of his head.
“You will never make me anything but proud of you, Con. And your team? They’ll be fine. They can survive a few weeks without you, but if you don’t let yourself rest then you’ll have to be out for way longer. You know that.”

Connor closed his eyes, tears of relief, welling up in his eyes, but not falling.
“I was scared,” he admitted, whispering.
“I thought it could have been the end.”

“I know, baby,” Matt whispered, holding him even tighter.
“It’s not though. You’ll be back on the ice before you know it. Just give yourself time to rest and heal. You deserve it.”

Matt took care of Connor in every way possible he could think. He made him dinner, watched whatever bullshit Connor forced him to watch without complaining, iced his leg and wrapped it, and just whatever he needed. Matt stayed by his side the whole time, reassuring him that everything would be okay.

As they lay in bed cuddling that night, Matt’s arms wrapped around Connor, his head underneath Matt’s chin. He whispered, “You’re going to be fine, baby, you know that, right?”

Connor nodded, feeling safe and content.
“I know. Thank you.”

Matt kissed his head, smiling into his hair.
“Anytime. Now sleep. I’m sure you’re tired.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Connor allowed himself to relax, and trust Matt that everything really would be okay, especially with him there.

Notes:

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I pulled this fic out of my ass, but I'm having mega brain worms about these two rn and since they are a rare pair, I gotta keep myself fed