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Willie feels the puck leave his tape as he saucers it to Alex and his heart is in his throat.
There’s a clap! as the puck cradles into Alex’s stick, the slick! of Alex’s stick as he drags the puck to deke around the D, and the crack! from the force of Alex bringing his stick to the puck.
Listen. He doesn’t know. But he knows.
He stops on his skates and beelines towards Alex, before the goal light even goes off. Before the goalie even realizes it’s over. Maybe before the puck even hits the back of the net.
All he can think is Alex, Alex, Alex.
A mantra in his head, Alex, Alex, Alex.
He skates at him full speed, leaps into the air, and tackles him to the ground.
Alex, Alex, Alex.
He feels more than hears Alex letting out a harsh huff of breath below him, but he definitely hears the “What a fuckin’ beaut!” from Alex. The other boy reaches up to hug Willie, tipping them so they’re laying on their sides, face to face, even as their other teammates begin to dogpile them. “Fuckin’ beautiful pass, man!”
“Nothing without your finish!” Willie screams back—the only way he can be heard over the noise in the arena. “Fucking filthy.” He knocks his mask with Alex’s, or at least as much as he can with the bodies on top of them, and stares at Alex through the holes in his mask.
It’s really weird, but even with the scent of sweat, the feeling of twenty bodies pressing up against him, and the cheers of thousands of people he doesn’t know surrounding him, Willie looks into Alex’s eyes and thinks, I’d like to kiss you.
Then Alex’s smile grows wider, and he hugs Willie tighter, and he thinks that, for at least right now, this is enough.
Because, like, it’s not the first time he’s thought about kissing Alex. It won’t be the last, either. But their first kiss doesn’t have to happen in front of thousands—millions, actually, by the time all is said and done, considering the power of video and social media.
So Willie hugs Alex as close as their pads will let them, revels in the sounds of his teammates, his country, his fans, screaming because they’ve just done something incredible.
Willie thinks that at least they have this. At least they did this. Come June, everything is going to change. The hockey that he gets to play every day… It’s not going to be with Alex anymore. The life that he gets to live isn’t going to be with Alex anymore. That… terrifies him. For so long he’s searched for a way so they can be together, but they’re two stars in the same draft class. Willie can’t see rhyme or reason for how or why a team would put so much stock into two prospects.
Well. Unless you’re the Sedins.
They’re not the Sedins.
This game was meant to be one last hurrah—well, unless the Phantoms take home the Clark, which isn’t out of the realm of possibilities. But this. On an international stage, with the world watching. This was their last hurrah.
Their teammates eventually get up from the dog pile. Teammates are going to give stick taps to Reggie, their goalie who played out of his mind, and condolences to any of their friends on Canada’s team. Alex and Willie don’t move, not until Alex reaches up to pull his helmet off. When he does, Willie gets to really see his face. His face is red, his hair is sweaty and matted to his head, and there are tears in his eyes.
He’s fucking stunning.
I’d like to kiss you.
“I fucking love you,” he says instead, and though it’s played off as a heat of the moment, he means it. He doesn’t know if he’s old enough to understand the enormity of love. He doesn’t know if he’s old enough to understand the way his mom supported their family of five working two jobs when his dad was laid off and looking for work, and still came home each night to tell him how much she loved and supported him. He doesn’t know if he’s old enough to understand the way his grandpa sets a plate for his grandma every meal, even though she’s been gone for five years. He doesn’t know if he’s there yet.
But he feels this. He feels it in his chest. The magnitude of his feelings when he looks at Alex, the vastness and complexity of them when Alex says his name. And the boundless, endless energy he feels when Alex looks at him and says right back, with eyes that are too soft and gentle to have just won an international tournament, “I fucking love you too.”
Willie sits up and grabs Alex, yanking him into a hug. They don’t have much longer. Soon the medals are going to come out. Alex is probably going to be MVP. The team is going to go party and they’re in Quebec, so Willie is sure all of the legal players are going out for drinks—which includes him and Alex.
“I mean it, you know? I love you.” He says this into Alex’s shoulder pads, too cowardly to say it to his face.
Alex pats his back twice. “Yeah. Me too.”
He doesn’t get it.
Willie pulls back. Catches Alex’s eyes and just… pauses for a second. Looks at him for a second. Alex’s eyes are tinged red from excited tears, and the longer Willie stares, he realizes they’re welling up with tears once more. This time, he’s willing to be they’re tears of realization. And… Willie love Alex. He does. So much. But he’s not ready to handle that in front of twenty thousand people.
He reaches up and musses Alex’s hair, then hops to his feet and skates away. Teammates scream as he approaches, and he grins as they congratulate him on the game-winning assist.
Alex joins a minute later, met with even louder cries of joy. He grins and accepts the praise, but Willie watches as his eyes flick to Willie, and then away again.
And, well, he knows it’s bad timing and he’s the reason for Alex’s discomfort, but. Willie can’t stop himself from thinking, I’d like to kiss you.
(*)
Willie doesn’t look at a clock, but it must be three in the morning by the time they stumble into their room. They’re not drunk, but they’re not sober, either. They’re comfortably tipsy, but their bone deep exhaustion is rearing its head, too.
Toeing off his shoes, Willie walks three steps into the room, turns, and faceplants on the bed. From behind him, he can hear Alex laughing, but he can’t muster up the energy to do anything more than flap a hand at him in dismissal.
“You had, like, three shots less than me,” Alex teases before sitting on the other bed, upright. Well, that won’t do. That is… Willie reaches his arm out all the way. Yes. That is further than Willie’s arm can reach. Willie whines. Alex frowns. “What?”
Willie beckons Alex over with a hand, which, because this is Alex and Willie, Alex immediately obeys. When Alex settles next to Willie, he sighs, curling an arm around Alex’s waist and pulling him closer. “You had three more shots, but you also are like, fifty pounds of muscle more than me.”
“Not fifty,” Alex hums, then cards his fingers through Willie’s hair.
“Okay,” Willie says. “Forty-nine.”
Alex snorts, then lowers himself to the covers to lay beside Willie until they’re face to face. “Hey,” he says, brushing a piece of Willie’s hair—which Alex had pushed into his face, he’d like to add—behind his ear. “We did it.”
“Yeah,” Willie says. And then, because Alex is right there, and Willie is not fully in control of his words, Willie’s eyes flutter across Alex’s face and he says, “I’d like to kiss you.”
“Oh.”
“Hm,” Willie hums, tangling his fingers in Alex’s shirt, scared that he’s going to run and Willie is going to have to hold on for dear life to not lose him.
He doesn’t.
Run, that is.
He just… stares.
First at Willie’s eyes, as if trying to determine how serious Willie is being in the moment—Willie is flattered but he doesn’t think he has enough brain power to make a joke right now—and then at his lips. And for a second, Willie thinks that Alex is going to go for it. That Alex is going to close the gap and kiss him, just like that.
He doesn’t.
“You’ve always been my biggest ‘what if.’” Alex murmurs. His eyes haven’t left Willie’s lips, though Willie can’t look away from Alex’s eyes.
“That’s funny,” Willie says, and finally Alex lifts his eyes to Willie’s. “Because you’ve always been my biggest ‘what’s next.’”
Alex’s eyes widen just a fraction. Willie wonders if Alex is surprised that Willie has thought about this outside of inebriation, probably similarly to himself. But apparently different, because Alex has always been holding himself back, while Willie has always been looking to the future.
But… that’s the thing. Is that their futures… they’re not together, at least not the way Willie wishes they could be. And he doesn’t want to ask Alex to wait twenty years for their NHL careers to be over. Willie would be willing to do long distance—if it was Alex and if they could make it work—but he doesn’t want to put that on Alex. They don’t need to be figuring out a long distance queer relationship in their first year in the NHL, a particularly queer-aggressive sport.
How does he explain that to Alex, though? That he loves him, that he’s willing to do anything to be with him, but he doesn’t want to put Alex in the position where Alex has to do anything to be with him? It’s just… Willie can’t ask that of him.
“I just… I can’t ask that of you.”
Alex recoils. “Can’t ask what of me?”
Furrowing his eyebrows, Will presses himself up onto an elbow and looks down at Alex. “We’re getting drafted this year,” he says, as if Alex isn’t already very aware of that. “And we’re projected to go top three,” he explains further, as if Alex isn’t already very aware of this as well. He laughs, shaking his head. “This was our last hurrah, Alex. We’re not going to—”
Alex grabs Willie’s bicep and yanks, pulling him with enough force that Willie’s body slides onto Alex’s. Alex’s hand tightens slightly on his arm and he stares up at him, eyes burning. “Stop talking like it’s the end of the line for us.”
“It’s not!” Willie says. “You’re my best friend, you’re always going to be my best friend—”
“Why can’t you ask for more then?”
Willie flicks his eyes across Alex’s face, looking for any signs of hesitancy.
Any buzz that Willie had earlier is gone, and he’s willing to bet the same can be said for Alex. Still. They’re tired.
“We should talk about this in the morning,” he murmurs, letting his eyes linger on Alex’s lips for a second too long. He lifts a hand, traces his thumb over the swell of his bottom lip, and then turns his attention back to Alex’s eyes. “When we’re not drunk and tired.”
Alex is quiet for a moment, but then he sighs. “Yeah,” he agrees. “You’re right.”
“Stay with me,” Willie says, but it comes out as more of a plea. There’s a part of him that’s scared this is their last night, and he doesn’t want it to end with them in two separate beds, five feet apart.
“Okay,” Alex agrees. “I’ll stay.”
(*)
Willie revels in the feeling of waking up with Alex wrapped around him. They cuddle, but they never sleep in the same bed. It’s a line that Willie wasn’t willing to cross—not until last night when he was tipsy and vulnerable—because he knew there would be no going back. And fuck was he right.
The warmth of Alex’s arms around him is intoxicating. The way that Alex is holding him—like he’s something special and Alex wants to keep him safe—makes Willie… upset, almost. That even in sleep, Alex is able to make him feel so protected and loved, when life has thrown them into this impossible situation.
It’s not fair.
Extratracting himself from Alex’s hold, Willie makes his way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. He brushes his teeth and tosses his hair up in a bun, then moves out to the kitchenette to start coffee.
He supposes the smell of the coffee must rouse Alex, because while he’s waiting for it to brew, he hears the bed creaking and sees Alex appear around the corner. With a small wave, he disappears into the bathroom and Willie is left watching the coffee maker drip, drip, dripping into the pot. The smell alone starts to wake him up, the promise of coffee during a hangover too enticing to resist.
Within a couple minutes, there’s enough for a full cup and he pours himself it just as Alex is coming out of the bathroom. Alex looks even more wrecked than Willie does, so Willie hands over the cup wordlessly.
“Didn’t sleep well?” Willie asks.
“What do you think?” Alex huffs, his voice groggy and scratchy. He takes the coffee and rubs a hand over his forehead. “Sorry, that was rude.”
Willie smiles, reaching out a hand to brush Alex’s hair from his face. “We had a long day yesterday, you’re allowed to be cranky that you didn’t sleep after all that excitement.”
Alex reaches up and grips Willie around the wrist. He looks up from his coffee and frowns, his lower lip jutting out in a frustrated pout. “That’s not why I didn’t sleep.”
And… yeah, that’s fair. Willie struggled to fall asleep for the first part of the night, at least until he was more sober and could tell himself everything was going to be all right. He should have known Alex’s anxiety wouldn’t be so kind.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.
“Don’t be fucking sorry, just…” He sets the coffee down on the counter and walks away. Willie almost thinks he’s just going to ignore what happened last night, but then he turns and demands, “If you were really asking what’s next, then you know there’s nothing you can do to make me leave, don’t you?”
“I know that,” Willie frowns. “I know… I know we’re in this together. All of it. You’re my best friend.”
“But that’s it,” Alex says. “That’s it? You want to kiss me but I’m your best friend and that’s it?”
Willie lifts his hands and buries his face in them. “It has to be, doesn’t it?” Because Willie wants to protect Alex. Because Willie wants to protect himself. Because Willie wants to protect this. This relationship between them, even if that means drawing a line. Because how is he supposed to live if they try this and it doesn’t work out? How is he supposed to go on if they choose this and it’s too hard?
“Why does it have to be?”
Willie scowls. “Well if you’re really asking what if, you know that it just… It just doesn’t work like that,” he huffs. “What if we did this and it doesn’t work out? What if we did this and it does? We either lose each other or spend the next twenty years of our lives loving each other from afar.”
“I’m going to love you anyways,” Alex whispers.
It’s a gut punch. It’s true, too. No matter what they choose, Willie is going to love Alex anyway. But…“I can’t ask you to go into this with me, knowing that we can’t be together for the majority of the year,” Willie murmurs. “It’s not fair to you.”
“It’s not fair to m—” Alex huffs, cutting himself off in disbelief. “What’s not fair is not letting me make my own decision, isn’t it? I think I get to make that choice for myself, don’t I?”
Willie blinks.
And… maybe he is old enough to understand.
Because his parents, his grandparents… it’s a partnership. And even when one partner has lost their job, or has even passed away, they never stop being your partner. Every choice you make is done with them in mind and they’re the driving force behind everything you do.
“You’re right,” Willie says. “I think… we get to choose together.”
“What do you want?” Alex asks, his voice no more than a whisper. He reaches over to grab Willie’s hand, twining their fingers together. “Ignore the draft, ignore the complications. What do you want?”
“Us,” Willie answers easily.
Alex stares at him for a long minute until slowly, his face melts into a smile. “Me too,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to give up hockey, which… I’ve been so scared of. You know? I’ve always had hockey and you, and I was too scared to figure out if I could have hockey and us.”
“It’s going to be hard,” Willie says, even though he knows Alex knows. It’s… a reminder. For both of them. That they’re sitting here in this room together right now, coming off of the high of winning world juniors together, but that’s not how it’s going to be next year if they choose this.
“It’s going to be hard no matter what,” Alex counters. Another reminder that, whether they choose this or not, they’re going to be separated next year. Something that… Willie isn’t entirely sure he knows how to do. It’s terrifying.
He huffs a small laugh. “It’ll probably be easier knowing you’re as miserable as me.”
“Charming.”
A bigger laugh. “Not… like that. Just… knowing that you love me too and you’re in this with me.”
“I’m always in this with you, Will,” Alex promises. “But yeah, I love you too. And I promise to be as miserable as you’d like me to be next year.”
They laugh together, and Willie gives it a beat before pressing himself off the counter and striding across the room, reaching up to take Alex’s face in his hands, and pulling him down to crash their lips together.
Immediately, Alex responds. His arms go around Willie, pulling him as close as their bodies physically allow them. Alex gasps into Willie’s mouth and he takes advantage of the vulnerability, pressing harder into the kiss. Breathing Alex, tasting Alex, loving Alex. It’s making him dizzy, so much so that he yanks Alex back with him until they crash onto the bed and he doesn’t have to worry about swaying and falling anymore.
Instead, he flips them, pushing Alex’s chest down as he climbs over him, tossing one of his thighs over Alex’s body so he’s straddling him. Beneath Willie, Alex pushes up on to one elbow, reeling Willie in by the hair. There is a tug, and then a snap, and then Willie’s hair falls around their faces, bracketing them in shadows. Willie pulls away, more out of shock than anything else and laughs, and Alex follows suit.
They spend the next… Willie isn’t sure how long, actually. But they spend it kissing and giggling and pulling each other closer and closer until Willie feels like he’s never going to be able to stop if he doesn’t pull away right then.
“I love you,” he pants as he pulls away, but immediately ducks in to press a kiss to Alex’s temple. “I love you,” he repeats, because he can.
“I love you,” Alex says with a gentle kiss to Willie’s lips. Not looking to start anything again, but just… out of love.
“I know we can do this,” Willie says.
“That’s a quick change of heart,” Alex teases.
Willie elbows him lightly, but laughs along. “I just… I know we can. It’s going to suck, but I love you.”
“I love you.”
A short burst of disbelieving laughter bubbles out of Willie, and he smiles. “Well then,” he says. “What’s next?”