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Smitty untied his laces and slipped off his skates, laughing at some dumb joke Matt made. 

He and his team were all exhausted from a long day of practice, ready to get home and crash. Smitty pulled out his phone, passing the time as he waited for his friends to get ready to head out. He wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, mostly just scrolling out of boredom, but something on his Instagram feed caught his attention. 

“Did you guys know there’s gonna be a figure skating competition here next month?” Smitty asked. 

“Dude—how have you not heard about this already?” Puffer asked incredulously. “It’s been all anyone can talk about since that guy Kryoz is gonna be there.”

“Who?”

All his friends turned to look at him in shock. Why were they so surprised he didn’t know anything about figure skating? Why did they know so much about this shit anyway?

Droid scoffed and shook his head. “Man, you live under a rock or something?”

“The guy is mad famous, even outside of the figure skating scene,” Grizzy explained. “He’s that good.”

Smitty shrugged. “Guess I just never really paid enough attention. But that sounds cool, maybe I’ll check it out.”

Matt laughed. “You should watch his freakout moments on YouTube. They’re hilarious.”

Grizzy rolled his eyes, disappointed, as Smitty just looked on in confusion. “C’mon dude—that shit’s not funny.”

“What? Don’t give me that—he earned the nickname Kryoz for a reason,” Matt said. “Bro is ice cold.” 

“Nah, that’s all gotta be bullshit,” Droid interjected. “No way he’s as bad as everyone says. I bet he’s pretty chill once you get to know him.”

“Maybe he’s just going through something,” Smitty tried to reason. 

He wasn’t sure why he was sticking up for this literal stranger, but something within him just felt like Matt was being unfair here. None of them knew this guy or his business, so they shouldn’t make judgments on him based on some outta context YouTube clips. 

Matt scoffed. “When’d you guys get so fucking boring. It’s just a little harmless celebrity gossip, it’s not like we’re ever actually gonna meet this guy.”

Grizzy opened his mouth to say something before Puffer beat him to it, cutting him off. 

“Holy shit—isn’t that him?” he asked, pointing toward the entrance. 

Smitty just shook his head, not falling for the obvious bait. But Matt, as gullible as ever, followed Puffer's gesture and whipped his head around faster than the speed of light. 

“Oh my fucking god it is,” Matt said, immediately turning away and growing pale. “Do you think I summoned him by talking shit? I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a sixth sense for that sorta thing.”

Smitty looked up curiously. He really was here?

There was someone walking over to the bleachers that lined the outside of the rink, but Smitty had no way to discern if it was actually this Kryoz guy or not, so he just had to take their word for it. 

He didn’t look like a figure skater to Smitty—not with the mullet and mustache he was sporting. But hey, don’t judge a book by its cover, right? 

He had on pretty plain clothes, a gray sweater with some black sweatpants and some simple, practical sneakers. He had a duffel bag slung casually over his shoulder as he walked to his destination slowly, almost sluggish. 

He seemed tired. 

His other teammate, Rectrixx, exited the restroom just as Kryoz passed it and Smitty felt his stomach drop as the two collided into each other. 

He couldn’t hear him from here, but it was obvious Rectrixx was apologizing profusely for the mistake. Kryoz just dusted himself off before shooting a glare in Rectrixx’s direction that made him shut his mouth immediately. Smitty felt himself getting defensive, wanting to stand up for his friend—but Rectrixx was already walking back over to the group and he seemed fine, so he dropped it. 

Plus, Smitty had a pretty strong feeling that anything he tried would only make things worse. 

“Was that fucking Kryoz?” Rectrixx asked in disbelief. 

Seriously—how did everyone know about this guy? 

“Dude—that was crazy!” Matt exclaimed, making sure to keep his volume down a bit. “I told you guys—Kryoz is ruthless. I bet he has a block of ice where his heart should be.”

Droid gave Matt a look that was hard to parse—like he wanted to say something but just couldn’t. 

It was weird. Droid never had trouble snapping back at someone when they said shit he didn’t approve of, so what was so different about this time?

“Knock it off, Matt,” Smitty warned, a weird prickly feeling settling over his skin. “Let's just go.”

The group gathered the rest of their things and began to head out. There was no danger of passing Kryoz on their way, since he’d decided to sit on the complete opposite side of the rink from them, purposely choosing a spot that was as far away from Smitty and his team as possible. 

What was he doing here this late anyway? Didn’t he know the place was about to close for the night?

Smitty shook away his questions, tearing his gaze away from the enigma that was Kryoz. He’d never understand this guy, and he didn’t need to. 

He ignored the curiosity that still lingered within him. 

Just keep moving, Smitty. Don’t look back. 

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he braced for the chill outside, freezing when he noticed he didn’t feel his phone. 

“Shit.”

“What’s up?” Grizzy asked. 

“I think I left my phone on the bleachers,” Smitty explained. “You guys can go ahead.”

“You sure?” Puffer asked. 

“Yeah—I’ll see you tomorrow,” Smitty said, already making his way back inside. 

He turned briefly to see his friends shrug and take off to their cars, feeling weirdly relieved that none of them decided to come with. 

When he re-entered the building, he saw Kryoz was getting on the ice, his hot pink bedazzled skates grabbing Smitty’s attention. 

They were so sick, and completely unlike anything Smitty would’ve expected from his admittedly limited knowledge on the dude. 

Something about the choice of sparkling, bright pink ice skates just didn’t scream ‘heartless monster’ to him. 

Smitty took a step toward where he believed his phone sat just as Kryoz began skating to the center of the ice, their movements strangely mirroring each other. They even stopped at the same time—Smitty completely entranced as Kryoz lifted his arms to the sky, breathing deeply before he took off around the rink, his movements graceful but precise. 

He really needed to stop staring. It was fucking rude. 

He instead shifted his attention to the rows and rows of seats, trying to recall where he last saw his phone. He spotted it right where he left it and sighed to himself as he leaned down to pick it up, pocketing the device. 

He looked up just in time to catch Kryoz jumping up into the air, spinning three or four times, moving so fast Smitty couldn’t even be sure of the count. He landed easily on one foot, his other leg lifting up slowly behind him as he slid backwards on the ice, his expression completely blank as if he hadn’t just done the most insane shit Smitty had ever seen. 

Smitty couldn’t help himself. “Holy fuck!”

Kryoz snapped his attention in Smitty’s direction, clearly thrown off by the noise. The foot that hung in the air came down in an instant, meeting the ice at an angle as Kryoz shifted his weight to come to a complete stop, halting his routine. 

For a while they just stared at each other, Smitty realizing just how bad he fucked up the longer Kryoz’s eyes stayed on his. 

When Kryoz started to move again—that’s when Smitty finally got where the name came from. Smitty could swear that the closer Kryoz got, the colder the air became. 

Just one look could leave you frozen for centuries.  

Kryoz came right up to the barrier of tempered glass between them, Smitty silently thankful there was something separating the two. 

“You can’t be in here,” Kryoz said, his voice completely devoid of any emotion. “It’s past closing time.”

And since when had Smitty ever passed up the opportunity to be a little shit?

“I could say the same about you, y’know,” he teased. “‘Professional figure skater caught trespassing a month before his big competition.’ Now that’s a headline. I bet the press would eat that shit up.”

Angry lines made their way between Kryoz’s eyebrows and pulled at the corners of his mouth, an offended grimace. Smitty could practically feel the disgust rolling off of him—like it was a wave that’d crashed into him, intent on knocking him under and keeping him there. Kryoz didn’t want to let him up for air, didn’t want to give him an opportunity to breathe easy. 

He was trying to rattle him. It was working. 

“Are you threatening me?” 

Smitty took a step back, shaking his head vehemently. “What?! No!” he exclaimed. “Dude, I’m just messing around.”

“I know the owner. I’m allowed to be here.”

“Oh, you know Evan? That’s awesome, he’s a really cool dude,” Smitty said. “It’s nice he's letting you use the rink after hours so you can practice without getting bothered.”

Kryoz blinked, seemingly taken aback before his features quickly shifted back into something cold and calculating. “Yes, it would be great if I could practice without being bothered, I agree completely.”

The sarcasm was not lost on him. Smitty rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. 

“I’m so sorry I fucking screamed at you like that. That shit’s not safe, you could’ve fallen and gotten hurt because I distracted you. I just…I’ve never seen anything like that before. It was incredible.”

Kryoz looked confused. “What, the triple Axel? It’s a pretty standard jump, definitely not a ‘holy fuck’ worthy move, as you so eloquently described it.”

Smitty laughed. Kryoz made him laugh. 

“Well, it was to me,” Smitty said, his earnesty evident. “Not everyone can be as impressive as the great Kryoz.”

Kryoz’s gaze grew harsher. Shit, just when he thought he was actually getting through to the guy. 

“It’s John. My name’s John.”

Oh, right. Kryoz was the nickname he got by having a piss poor reputation, of course he fucking hated it. 

Duh, Smitty. You absolute moron. 

“My fault, that was shitty. I genuinely didn’t know that, everything I've heard about you has been from my exceptionally unreliable friends. Sorry,” he said. “I’m Smitty.”

A flash of what looked to be recognition crossed Kr— John’s face, but Smitty must've been mistaken. How the hell would John know anything about Smitty?

“Um…right. Nice to meet you?” John tried. “Look—I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m sorta busy—”

“Would you mind if I stayed?” Smitty asked. 

Where the hell had that come from? He obviously wanted to be left alone, so why couldn’t Smitty just leave him the fuck alone? 

John was clearly baffled, which Smitty thought was fair. He did just spring this on him out of nowhere. 

“Never mind, dumb question,” Smitty said. “I’ll get outta your hair.”

“…I’m not really supposed to have spectators during practice. Parts of my routine could get leaked to my competitors.”

Smitty waved a hand dismissively. “You don’t gotta explain yourself, it was a crazy ask,” he said. “It was nice to meet you, man. Hope to see you around.”

He took a step away, thinking that would be the end of it, but John followed. The scraping sound of his skate against the ice echoed through the empty rink, and it only really hit Smitty then that they were completely alone here. 

No one else got to see this moment, it was just for them. The thought made butterflies erupt in his chest, though he wasn’t sure why. 

Talking to a celebrity one-on-one like this would make anyone nervous, he reasoned. 

Smitty paused, letting John catch up to him. 

“Do you have your phone on you?” John asked. 

“Uh, yeah? Why?”

“I can’t risk you filming me. But if you turn it off and put it away, then you can stay.”

Smitty was reaching for his phone before his brain even caught up to what he was doing. He showed John the screen as he powered down the device, tucking it into his bag. He made a show of shoving his bag under the bleachers and moving a few steps over, making it clear he wasn’t gonna try anything. 

“Alright then. Enjoy the show.”

And with that John pushed off the wall, moving back to the center. Another deep breath, and he was at it again, completely locked into his performance. 

Smitty couldn’t look away. 

He skated a lot, obviously—he was part of a decently successful hockey team, after all. But his skating compared to John’s? It just didn’t hold a candle to it. 

He skated to get from point A to point B, and sometimes that meant it was rough, messy. But every movement John made transitioned seamlessly into the next, a perfect dance as he practically floated across the ice. 

Smitty didn’t know the names of any of the tricks John was pulling off, but he didn’t care. He was perfectly content to watch the numerous spins and jumps in sheer awe, letting the rhythm of it infect him. 

He was beautiful. 

It was beautiful—the routine. Not that John wasn’t, like, attractive. Objectively speaking. But Smitty wasn’t—he didn’t—whatever. 

Just forget it. 

Eventually John’s dance came to an end. His final pose had him reaching his hand up to the ceiling as he held his head high, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he took a beat to catch his breath. 

Smitty didn’t know if he was supposed to clap, but he did anyway. How could he not?

John gave him a big, over dramatic bow that had Smitty grinning like an idiot. 

“That’s mainly what I’m going to be sticking to for the competition, but more cleaned up, obviously.” That wasn’t the cleaned up version? “It’s better to the music, but I like practicing without it sometimes. Makes it more challenging, I dunno.”

Smitty was in a weird sort of haze, his mind transported elsewhere. It made it hard for him to think before speaking. 

“You’re amazing.”

John huffed. “I’m okay.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Smitty asked incredulously. “That was like—the coolest shit.”

“Coming from the guy who thought a triple Axel was impressive.”

“It is impressive. It’s all impressive,” Smitty stated. “You’re selling yourself short, dude. Seriously.”

John just shook his head. He didn’t believe him. Why didn’t he believe him?

“I need to run through the parts I have the most trouble with a few more times, if you wanna stick around.”

Smitty didn’t hesitate. 

“I’m down.”

***

Smitty could’ve honestly watched John skate forever, but eventually he finished his practice and joined Smitty on the bleachers. 

He was sitting next to him, sure—but Smitty could tell John was purposely putting distance between them, refusing to get too close. 

John slid his sneakers back on as he placed his skates in the duffle bag he’d brought along. He kept quiet all the while, an awkward silence lingering around the both of them. 

“I like your skates,” Smitty said, hoping to break the tension. 

John’s shoulders shot up and his eyes narrowed, focusing in on Smitty. Did he say something wrong? 

But then, in the blink of an eye, John relaxed. If Smitty hadn’t been paying such close attention to him, he mighta thought he just made the whole thing up. Smitty’s certain though—what he said made John defensive, put him on edge. He wouldn't have reacted like that otherwise. 

“…Thanks,” John mumbled. 

The awkward silence continued, Smitty unsure where to go from there. 

Mission failed. We’ll get ‘em next time. 

“I should head out,” John said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “But, uh…it’s been chill hanging out, I guess.”

“Wait!” 

Smitty reached out to grab his sleeve, but stopped short of actually touching him. John waited, doing as he was asked, but Smitty was at a loss. What did he even want from John? Why couldn’t he just let him go?

John tilted his head, impatient. Smitty needed to come up with something, anything. 

“…Hockey!” Smitty exclaimed, apropos of nothing. 

“What?”

“I—um, I play hockey,” Smitty continued, floundering. 

John threw an unimpressed look at the hockey stick peeking out from Smitty’s bag. “I can see that.”

Smitty forced out a nervous laugh. God, why did talking to John make him act so stupid?

“We have a game next week,” Smitty said. “You should come, if you want.”

John’s eyes widened, something indescribable shimmering within them before he shook his head and sighed, the shimmer gone as quick as it had appeared. “I can’t.”

“Damn. Mind if I ask why?”

“I have to focus on the competition. I can’t afford any distractions.”

“…You can’t be serious.” John just shrugged in response. Smitty scoffed. “John, you’re allowed to have fun, y’know? I get the competition is important, I do. But skating can’t be your whole life.”

John bristled. “Well, it is. And you don’t get to tell me how I should live my life. I don’t even know you.”

Fuck. “John—”

“Fuck off.”

When John stood and turned away Smitty felt his heart seize in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling. It couldn’t end like this—Smitty wouldn’t let it. 

“No.”

John glanced over his shoulder, but the once intimidating gaze was losing its effectiveness.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t have to come to the stupid fucking game if you don’t want to, okay?” Smitty ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. “And I’m sorry if what I said was outta line. But you don’t just get to leave without giving me the chance to explain myself or apologize. You have to at least hear me out before you just run away.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” John countered. 

“Fine,” Smitty said. “Will you please hear me out?”

John shifted his weight from one foot to the other and toyed with the strap of his bag, contemplating. Smitty waited in agony, dying for a response—hoping John would stay. 

After what felt like an eternity, John sat back down. He kept his gaze straight ahead, refusing to look over at Smitty. 

“I didn’t mean to make you upset,” Smitty said. “You’re right, I don’t know you. If you love skating, and it’s all you wanna do forever—then that’s great. I wasn’t tryna undermine you, or tell you what to do, or anything like that. I just—I don’t know…”

John didn’t move. Smitty knew there was more he should say, but he wasn’t sure how to find the right words—ones that wouldn’t set John off, preferably. 

He had to keep going. 

“I think…I think I just really liked spending time with you. And I wanted to see you again, which clouded my judgment, maybe—because I said some stupid shit and made you mad at me. Which was like, the complete opposite of what I wanted, really.”

“But I also think I’m mad too? Because you didn’t apologize to my friend earlier even though it was just as much your fault as it was his that you ran into each other. And you sat as far away from us as you possibly could, like we were gonna give you the goddamn plague. And I swear you are, like, purposely misinterpreting half the shit I say so you can make me out to be the bad guy, giving you an excuse not to talk to me for any longer than you have to.”

“You’re trying to get rid of me. That fucking hurts.”

…Jesus Christ. Where did all that come from? If John wasn’t already planning on never speaking to him again, he sure as shit was now. 

John bit his nail, anxious. “It’s not personal,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. 

Smitty sighed. “Sure. It never is, right?”

John didn’t say anything, and Smitty had already said everything he could. 

Guess that was it, then. 

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” Smitty said, getting up to leave. 

“…What time is it? The game?” John asked. “I can’t make any promises, but—"

“Don’t bother. You clearly don’t want to.” Smitty didn’t look back. “I’ll leave you alone. Good luck at the competition.”

If only he hadn’t forgotten his damn phone. 

Chapter Text

He decided it was best if he just forgot about John entirely. 

They’d only had one conversation, really, and it didn’t go well in the end—so he needed to let it go and move on. 

The problem, though, was that it was very hard to forget someone he kept seeing around. 

His team's practice was always right before closing—right before John’s own practice. Which meant he always saw him coming in just as he was leaving. Smitty wondered if he should say something, try and fix things. 

He ended up chickening out every time. It was for the best, anyway. John had a bad reputation for a reason, surely—and Smitty didn’t need to get wrapped up in all that. 

Except…why did John have a bad reputation, exactly?

The question haunted him. He only lasted three days before caving and googling everything there was to know about the famous figure skater. 

Several headlines grabbed his attention.  

“Kryoz Returns to the States After a Year of Competing Abroad.”

“Ice Skating Legend Kryoz Brings Home the Gold to No One's Surprise, Continuing His Undefeated Streak.”

"Figure Skating’s Friendly Feud: Will Pezzy Finally Be Able to Dethrone Kryoz at Upcoming Event?”

“Kryoz and Pezzy: Dating the Competition?”

That last one made Smitty roll his eyes. Why did people always have to speculate on celebrities' love lives? They deserved their privacy just like everybody else. 

Of course it was written by TMZ. The only “proof” they had was a picture of John and this Pezzy guy hanging out together at a bar, laughing over a couple drinks. 

Well, Pezzy was laughing. John was scowling at the camera, catching the person who was photographing them before they took the shot. 

Smitty ignored the weird feeling swirling in his gut as he looked at the picture. Maybe the two of them were dating, maybe they weren’t. It wasn’t Smitty’s business either way. 

He moved on from reading various news articles to checking out some of his performances on YouTube. He was just as elegant as he was in person, everything fluid and yet meticulously planned, a seemingly impossible balance pulled off so effortlessly. 

The outfits were something else too. All bedazzled and bright, matching those incredible pink skates that Smitty learned he wore to every competition. Sequins caught in the light and feathers fluttered around him as he twirled and leaped through the air, each costume new and vibrant and perfectly fitting. 

A random comment caught his eye. 

‘I still can’t believe Kryoz makes all his costumes himself. Save some talent for the rest of us man!!!’

He…made them?

Smitty couldn’t help the small, private smile that formed on his lips. John was full of surprises, wasn’t he?

Because Smitty was watching so many videos of John, his recommendations became full of them. Eventually, he even stumbled upon one of those compilations Matt had mentioned the other day.  

🥶❄️🧊KRYOZ BEING ICE COLD FOR 10 MIN STRAIGHT🧊❄️🥶

He shouldn’t watch it. He shouldn’t have watched any of this. He was supposed to be forgetting John—not doing…whatever this was. 

But maybe the video would give Smitty a reason to hate him. Maybe it would make him easier to forget. Smitty could finally get past this—leave John behind for good. 

He worried his lip, hesitant, clicking on the video before he could talk himself out of it. 

The first clip was of John getting in some audience members' face, screaming at him for using flash during another skater's performance. 

“Are you fucking dumb?” John pulled out his own phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it in the guy's face. “How do you like it, huh?”

Smitty couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. The guy fucking deserved it, in Smitty’s opinion. What if the skater had gotten hurt because the flash caught them off-guard?

“I was just trying to get a picture, man,” the guy said.

“No flash photography, dickhead. And I promise you the professional photographers and videographers the venue hired will get much better shots than your shitty android will, so why don’t you just relax?”

Dickhead scoffed. “I need to relax? Look at yourself.”

John moved impossibly closer to the guy, and Smitty braced himself. Was he about to hit him?

If he was planning on it, it never happened. A stern looking blonde woman stopped him, a scowl on her face as she shook her head. John visibly deflated, following the woman away from the audience member without another word, all the fight he’d had within him vanishing in an instant. 

Something twisted in Smitty’s gut. He read the text that appeared on screen. 

‘I can’t believe his coach had to get involved to stop him lmfaooo’

The second clip was short and not so sweet. John flipped off the person recording him as he walked by, frowning. The camera switched to show a shocked girl putting her hand over her mouth. 

Smitty got that what John did was rude—he did. But from the looks of it they were at a grocery store. John was probably just trying to get some damn food, and he couldn’t even do that without having a camera shoved in his face. 

It had to get exhausting. 

The third clip is the one that made Smitty stop watching. 

John was standing outside of some rink, presumably before a competition—maybe after. He was signing someone’s ice skates with a bored expression on his face, the same one he always had, black sunglasses perched high on his nose. 

Smitty squinted to see the signature. He didn’t sign it as John. He signed it as Kryoz, the nickname he clearly despised, but the one everybody used for him nonetheless. 

Which begged the question—why did John insist Smitty use his real name when he used Kryoz publicly? Smitty was just another member of the public, wasn't he? What made him so different?

The video wasn’t anything crazy, probably just an excited fan recording for the sake of having their own footage of John, nothing more. 

But then things took a turn for the worst. 

“Burn in hell, faggot!”

The camera whipped around, catching the guy who made the outburst in frame before it pulled back to John, his attention shifting to the piece of shit who stood just off-screen.

Smitty felt his blood boil. Matt had gotten comments like that all the time in high school after he'd been outed, and Smitty always did his best to protect him from them, to fight back. 

But it never stopped. Smitty wasn’t strong enough to stop them. 

John slid his sunglasses down his nose, revealing the most stunning purple eyeshadow. Smitty had clocked that John wore makeup for his performances when he was watching them, but seeing it up close like this was something else. 

He looked the heckler up and down, his expression unchanging. If he was angry, or upset—he didn’t let it show. There wasn’t a hint of a frown, or even the slightest twitch of an eye—only pure and utter nothingness. 

“You lost or something? This is an all men’s figure skating competition. This place is swarming with fags like me. If you hate us dirty queers so much, you’re in the wrong place.” John turned away, going back to signing someone’s hat. “Go fuck off somewhere else. No one wants you here.”

The man sputtered as the camera panned back to him, security now dragging him away, removing him from the premises. 

The crowd cheered once the guy was gone as the video focused on John one last time. He’d remained completely unphased. 

He probably heard shit like that all the time. 

That’s why he’d been weird after Smitty complimented his skates, he realized. He didn’t know if Smitty was being sincere at first, wondering if he was just another homophobic asshole making a snide remark. Smitty couldn’t even blame him. 

Smitty paused the video, unable to continue. 

This video hadn’t made him hate John at all, not in the slightest. Quite the opposite, actually. 

It just made Smitty feel bad for him.  

These weren’t clips of John acting insanely disrespectful to people for no reason—they were instances where he was being disrespected and reacted accordingly. 

Should he have flipped off that girl? No. Should he have shone a very bright light in some guy's eyes over what was probably an accident? Maybe not. But it’s not like Smitty couldn’t see why he did what he did. 

And, frankly? That homophobe deserved way worse than what John said. 

John had kept his cool in the situation, remaining reserved and level headed when he shouldn’t have had to. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Smitty tossed his phone aside, a frustrated groan escaping him. How was he supposed to forget about John now?

He collapsed onto his bed, not even bothering to change. It was late, around two or three in the morning, his research on John keeping him up longer than he would’ve liked. 

He attempted to will himself to sleep, trying and failing to get his mind to think of literally anything other than John. 

As he tossed and turned endlessly, he came to a horrible realization. 

He’d never seen John smile. 

Obviously he didn’t smile in that last video Smitty watched, but he didn’t during his performances either. 

He could brush that off as just John focusing, maybe. Except John didn’t smile when he won, didn’t smile when he stood on the highest platform on the podium, didn’t smile when they draped the gold medal over his neck or when they handed him the biggest trophy. 

It wasn’t just the videos. There hadn’t been a single picture of him smiling in any of the articles Smitty read either. 

And he hadn’t smiled once the entire time he was with Smitty. 

Did he even like skating? Was he happy?

Maybe John just had trouble showing his emotions. Maybe he just had the worst case of resting bitch face Smitty’s ever seen. 

Or maybe he was fucking miserable. 

Smitty had no way to tell. 

Fuck. He wasn’t gonna be able to get any sleep, was he?

***

It was blatantly clear to everyone on the team that Smitty was off his game. 

They’d split into two teams of three. Matt, Puffer, and Grizzy on one, Smitty, Rectrixx and Droid on the other, with Rectrixx and Grizzy as the goalies. Rectrixx wasn’t usually a goalie, so the other team had the advantage there. But they had Droid, who could basically make any shot from any distance, so they called it even. 

But Smitty was throwing. He missed easy shots, or just hit the puck straight to Grizzy. 

When Matt checked him, hitting him into the wall, Smitty hadn’t been ready for it. He wasn’t able to regain his balance in time, and he fell on his ass, hard. His hockey stick slipped out of his grasp, clattering against the ice angrily. 

Matt stopped in front of him, holding out a hand to pull him up. “What is up with you today?” Smitty accepted the help, moving to stand. “…Are you okay, dude?”

Smitty didn’t want to answer that honestly. So he didn’t. 

“M’fine.”

“Matt!” Puffer yelled, skating toward them. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you trying to injure him before the game?”

“I didn’t even hit him that hard!” Matt whined. 

Smitty sighed. “He didn’t. I just wasn’t paying enough attention. It’s my fault.”

“Aight. Then what the fucks wrong with you?” Puffer asked, pointing the question in Smitty’s direction this time. 

“Nothing,” Smitty mumbled. 

Puffer scoffed. “Bullshit. You’re moving slower than usual, botching simple passes and shots, and don’t get me started on whatever the hell just happened here. Something’s off.”

“I’m fine.”

Maybe if he said it enough times, it’d become true.

The rest of the team looked between Puffer and Smitty, unsure what to do. Smitty wanted to go home. 

“We’re a team, man. We have your back, you can talk to us if something is going on,” Puffer said. 

Smitty knew that was true. His friends were the best, really. Even if they acted like complete and total assholes most of the time. 

But, still. Smitty didn’t want to talk to them about this. He wasn’t sure how to. He really shouldn’t care so much about this, about John. Smitty couldn’t fathom why this stranger even mattered to him after one singular interaction, and he certainly couldn’t articulate it out loud. 

It felt…embarrassing, kinda. 

“I just can’t right now, okay?” Smitty could hear the exhaustion in his own voice. “I just can’t.”

Puffer's face fell. “…Okay, Smitty. That’s fine,” he said. “But until you can figure your shit out, you need to stay off the ice.”

“Fuck that! Our game’s only a few days away—I need to practice if we’re gonna be able to pull off the win against Banana Bus Squad.”

“I still don’t get that name,” Matt interjected. “Is their mascot bananas? Or…buses?”

“Shut up, Matt!” Puffer exclaimed, frustrated. “Look, I’m sorry—but you clearly can’t play for shit right now. If this keeps up, we’re gonna have to replace you with one of the alternates.”

Smitty's eyes widened. “You can’t do that! Eli and Yumi haven’t been showing up to practice for weeks! They only come to the games because they like watching hockey, for fucks sake,” he said. “Coach would never agree to it.”

“If I told him how you were playing? Yeah, he would.” Puffer crossed his arms, daring Smitty to disagree. “Besides, Tyler doesn’t bother showing up to our practices either. Do you really think he’ll stop me from making you sit this one out, especially when I’ve got the whole team backing me up?”

Smitty rolled his eyes. “Not everyone is going to back you up on this. It’s fucking stupid, right guys?” The silence was deafening. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“He’s not saying you can’t play,” Droid said. “He’s just saying you’ve obviously got a lot going on that needs to be sorted first. We want you at that game, man. But we want you at your best.”

Unbelievable. “Yeah, sure. Fine. Whatever.”

Puffer sighed. “Smitty—”

“Forget it.”

Smitty got off the ice and yanked his skates off, throwing on his shoes haphazardly, not even bothering with the laces. He grabbed his stuff and stormed out of the rink, chucking his bag against the wall before kicking a trash can over and over, taking all his rage out on the poor thing. 

It was all just so goddamn stupid. 

“Fucking. Piece. Of. Shit!” Smitty exclaimed, each word punctuated with a kick. 

Suddenly, and without warning, Smitty was lifted off the ground. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, restraining him. His captor was dragging him away from the trash can, preventing him from causing it any further damage. 

Smitty squirmed in the person’s grasp. He couldn’t believe one of his friends dared to follow him out here. Couldn’t they tell he just wanted to be left alone?

“Let go of me!” Smitty demanded. “Get. Off!”

He managed to jab his elbow into the guy's ribs, causing him to wheeze, dropping Smitty as he stumbled back in pain. 

Smitty turned to see which of his friends had stopped him. 

But it wasn’t one of his friends. 

“John?” 

John coughed. “You were going to hurt yourself. I just wanted you to stop.” He moved to stand up straight, righting himself as he met Smitty’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have just grabbed you like that, though.”

Smitty huffed. “Ya think?”

“I’m not sure I was thinking, that’s the problem.”

Smitty rubbed his arm. “…I wasn’t hurting myself. It sounds bad when you say it like that. I was just getting some anger out.”

“Repeatedly kicking a stationary metal object isn’t exactly good for you,” John said, unimpressed. “How much longer would you have gone if I hadn’t interfered? Would you really have stopped when you felt the pain radiating up your leg? Because it sure didn’t look like it from where I was standing.”

“I would’ve stopped.” Would he? He’s honestly not sure. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Never said you were.”

“…Right.”

Shit, this was awkward. Now that the adrenaline had worn off and Smitty had properly assessed the situation, he realized just how bad he’d fucked up. 

John, the guy he inexplicably couldn’t stop thinking about, had just witnessed him completely freak out. To an embarrassingly extreme degree. It had gotten so bad that John felt like he had to physically hold him back. 

“Did something happen?” John asked. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Smitty said. 

“Do what?” 

“Pretend you care.”

John stiffened. “I do care. Why the fuck would I have asked otherwise?”

Smitty didn’t have an answer for that. But he also didn’t have an answer for why John would have any interest in what was going on with Smitty. The last time they spoke it kinda seemed like he wanted nothing to do with him. 

“Nothing happened,” Smitty lied. “Just stupid hockey stuff.”

“Is that why you’re not at practice?”

Smitty crossed his arms, casting his gaze down at his shoes, his untied laces staring back at him. 

“We don’t have to talk about it. It’s none of my business, anyway—I shouldn’t have even asked,” John said. “You wanna go for a walk? Clear your head? I promise it’ll be better for you than beating the shit out of a trash can.”

“What, and you’d…come with me?”

John shrugged. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I was under the impression you didn’t wanna talk to me. You literally told me to fuck off last time we spoke.”

John’s shoulders tensed. “Yeah, well. I’m not exactly great at the whole…‘interacting with people’ thing.”

“That doesn’t give you an excuse to be an asshole,” Smitty stated plainly. 

“No, it doesn’t.”

“…You were really rude to me for no reason, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Smitty frowned. “It’s really hard to be mad at you when you keep agreeing with everything I say.”

“Good,” John said. “Walk with me?”

Smitty rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t suppress the smile forming on his lips. There was something about him, something Smitty couldn’t place. Something about how being around him made Smitty feel electric.

John was magnetic. It made him hard to say no to. 

“Sure. Why not?”

“Cool.”

John turned and started to move away from this place, and Smitty was helpless to do anything but follow. 

***

Maybe this was a bad idea. 

Smitty was still stewing from everything that happened between him and the team, remaining quiet as he tried to collect his thoughts—and John wasn’t exactly known for his exceptional conversational skills—so an uncomfortable silence hung in the air between them. 

Smitty wasn’t even sure where they were going, or if they were going anywhere at all. 

He gathered himself as best he could, looking to the road that stretched before him. It didn’t matter where they were headed, right now they were just walking. He should focus on that.

A cool breeze washed over him, ruffling his hair. He shifted his gaze up to the night sky, taking in the beauty of the moon and the twinkling stars surrounding it. He breathed deeply, allowing the chilly autumn air to fill his lungs. 

Maybe the quiet wasn’t so bad. It was kinda nice, just knowing someone was there. Someone who didn’t mind the lack of what would be an undoubtedly forced conversation. He enjoyed the company. 

He enjoyed John’s company. 

“Feeling any better?” John asked. 

“…Yeah, actually. I think I am,” Smitty said softly, worried if he spoke any louder it would ruin the moment. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” John’s voice was equally as quiet. “You wanna head back soon?”

“Hm?”

“Back to the rink, I mean. I figure you’ve got some shit to sort out with your friends.”

Smitty groaned. “Ugh, yeah—I guess I do. I don’t fucking want to, though.”

“The things we don’t want to do are often the things most worth doing.”

“You don’t gotta get all philosophical on me ‘n shit. I’ll talk to ‘em.”

“I’m sure it’ll work out,” John encouraged. “You all seem close—at least from what I’ve seen. Which isn’t a lot, to be fair. But you're all always laughing and cracking jokes, so I’ve gotta assume you get along on some level.”

Smitty smiled fondly. “We do. They’re great guys.”

John nodded his head back in the direction they came from. “C’mon.”

Smitty turned to follow, but his dumbass forgot his shoes were still untied. He stepped on one of the laces, tripping over himself. 

“Shit!” he yelped, reaching out his arms as he braced for impact. 

But he never hit the ground. John caught him before he could fall. 

Smitty grabbed onto John’s biceps, trying to steady himself but getting distracted by the definition he felt there. Seriously, there was no way this guy got these muscles from fucking ice skating. He distantly remembers the strong arms that easily lifted him into the air, like Smitty had weighed nothing at all. 

Stop thinking about his arms, Jesus Christ. 

He redirected his attention to the fact he’d tripped, giving his brain a moment to catch up to what just happened. 

“Damn, falling for me already?” John teased. 

Smitty felt his face heat up. “W-what?”

“Relax, I’m just fucking with you.”

Of course it was just a joke, Smitty knew that. Him and his friends made stupid flirty comments like that to each other all the time, it never meant anything. 

He didn’t mean it. Stop freaking out. 

He did not, in fact, stop freaking out. 

Smitty swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. He stood perfectly still, not daring to speak, unable to trust his own voice.

John wasn’t moving either, his hazel eyes searching disoriented brown ones, clearly deterred by Smitty’s reaction. 

So they just stood there. Holding each other. For way too fucking long. 

Something had to give—one of them had to move away, break the tension. 

Smitty couldn’t step back no matter how much his brain screamed at him to. 

John looked Smitty up and down, searching for…something. “Your shoes are untied,” he said eventually. 

“Huh?” Smitty checked his shoes, even though he was already fully aware he never bothered tying them. At least it got him to stop staring at John. “Y-yeah, right. I forgot, sorry. Just gimme a sec to tie ‘em, and we can keep going—”

Smitty finally had the awareness to pull away from John—but before he could make any other moves, John kneeled in front of him, taking Smitty’s laces in his hands. 

“I’ve got it.”

Smitty should insist he can take care of it, that he doesn’t need someone to tie his shoes for him, for fucks sake. But that same lump in his throat returned, making it hard to speak. He just couldn’t get the words out, freezing as he watched John do this simple task for him. 

Why was he doing this? Smitty didn’t get it. What did he gain from helping Smitty?

Everything Smitty had learned about John completely contradicted the person that kneeled before him. Who was he, really?

He wasn’t the monster everyone made him out to be—Smitty knew that much, at least. But he wasn’t exactly some angel sweetheart, either. 

Smitty had noticed how John seemed allergic to apologizing when he did something wrong. He didn’t say sorry when he bumped into Rectrixx, or when he grabbed Smitty unexpectedly, and he never actually apologized for how disrespectful he was when they met. 

But he’d also let Smitty stay for his practice when it was clear he wasn’t supposed to. He’d tried to calm Smitty down—and even though he went about it the wrong way initially, he stayed and continued to help. And here he was now, tying Smitty’s shoes. He didn’t have to do that. He didn’t have to do any of it. 

So why did he? Why was the person who was so harsh with his words and glances being so fucking nice?

Smitty tried to get his brain to form any coherent thought, something that would help him make sense of all this, but he could only come up with one word to describe how he felt. 

Weird. This is weird. 

It wasn’t necessarily a bad weird. But it was new, hard to understand. Different in a way Smitty wasn’t sure he was ready to analyze just yet. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Smitty said, even though John had basically already finished. 

“Already done,” John replied, moving to stand. “We should get going. Your team's practice lets out any minute now.”

Smitty nodded, following wordlessly. They settled back into their usual silence, neither of them saying a single thing the whole way back. 

Smitty had never felt so connected to someone, and yet so distant from them at the same time. 

***

Eventually they made their way back to the rink, but John hovered in front of the door, effectively blocking the entrance. 

“Hey, are we good?” John asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like…you’re not still mad at me, are you?”

Smitty shook his head. “I don’t think I was ever actually mad at you. But I just…I don’t really know what you want from me,” he admitted. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you kinda contradict yourself a lot.”

“I don’t want anything from you—that makes it sound like I’m expecting something of you.”

“Then what are we doing here? What do you want?”

John folded in on himself. “I-I don’t know.”

Smitty wasn’t sure what to do with that. If John didn’t know, how was Smitty supposed to?

“Listen—I like you, you’re a cool guy. And I’d like to get to know you better, hang out, whatever.” Just lay all your cards on the table, Smitty. What have you got to lose? “If you want that too, great. If you don’t, that’s chill too. But whatever this weird hot and cold shit we’re doing now is, it’s gotta stop.”

John paused for a beat, processing. “…Okay. Okay, I hear you,” he said eventually. “I’ll figure out what I want.”

Smitty smiled, opening his mouth to say something else when a ringing sound startled them both. 

It was John’s phone. Smitty didn’t mean to snoop, but he caught the name of the person calling him—Jess. 

John sighed, heavy and agitated. “Shit, I’ve gotta take this,” he said. “…You gonna be okay on your own from here?”

“I’m fine.” Smitty’s surprised to find he actually means it this time. “Take care, John.”

John gave him a nod before taking off, walking just out of earshot before picking up the phone. Smitty wondered if he’d ever speak to John again. The thought made him itch. 

He shook it off and braced himself, mentally preparing himself to face his friends. 

They were already off the ice when Smitty got inside. That was unexpected, Smitty was sure there would be at least a few minutes of practice left—him and John hadn’t been gone that long. 

“Smitty! There you are, thank fuck.” Matt rushed over to him and pulled him into a hug. What the hell? “Where did you go?”

“Uh—I just went for a walk around the block, why?” Smitty asked. 

“Why weren’t you answering your fucking phone?” Puffer asked. 

Smitty pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was on do not disturb. He had so many missed calls and texts from all of them. 

“I always put it on do not disturb during practice, you guys know this.”

“We were all really worried about you, man,” Grizzy said. “You took off faster than any of us could follow, and by the time we went to look for you, you were already gone.”

“Your car was still in the parking lot too, so we knew you didn’t go home,” Rectrixx added. “We were just about to call Yumi and Eli to see if you’d reached out to them or if they knew anything about where you went.”

“Why were you even looking for me in the first place?” Smitty asked. “You told me I should leave.”

“We didn’t want you to go,” Droid said. “We just wanted you to take a beat to cool off.”

Smitty scoffed. “A beat? Puffer was threatening to pull me from the game!”

“Because something’s wrong with you and you won’t tell us why!” Puffer yelled. He took a deep breath before he continued, lowering his volume. “And, like—you don’t have to tell us every little thing that’s going on in your life. I get if it’s personal, or if you just don’t want to. But it’s clearly affecting you, and you needed a break.”

A crease formed between Smitty’s eyebrows. Oh, now Puffer was the expert in what Smitty needed, was he?

That’s not fair. 

“Why do you get to decide that?”

“I don’t,” Puffer conceded. “But it wasn’t helping—you weren’t having fun. Hockey can be a good distraction from shit sometimes, I know we all feel that way. But this time it didn’t seem to be working for you—you just looked fucking tired, man.”

Smitty tugged on his sleeve, pulling at a loose thread, unsure what he should say. 

Matt put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re only tryna look out for you, my guy.”

Smitty sighed. “Listen—I overreacted, okay? I just didn’t get any sleep last night, that’s why I sucked today. And why I acted so childish, storming off like that. But I promise, if you let me join practice tomorrow, I’ll be at the top of my game.”

Puffer looked around, assessing the group. Everyone seemed to be in agreement. 

“Aight, fine,” Puffer said. “Just make sure you don’t play so fucking dogshit next time.”

“And if you ever do need to take a break, then take one,” Droid added. “That goes for all of us.”

“Works for me,” Smitty said. 

“Hey—look, that Kryoz guy’s back again,” Grizzy said. 

Smitty knew Grizzy didn’t care that John had shown up, he’d been doing so for the past few days now—it was nothing new. He was just trying to change the subject so the group didn’t have to talk about feelings and shit anymore. 

Everyone silently thanked him for the distraction. 

“Oh, and there he goes, sitting in the far back corner like always,” Matt said. “Do you think we should let him know we don’t have cooties?” 

“I’m definitely not planning on talking to him any time soon,” Rectrixx said. “Bro is scary.”

Droid shook his head. “Drop it, you guys. He’s only gonna be here til his competition next month, and then he’ll be gone. You never have to see him again—so maybe it’s best we just leave him alone.”

…That was true, wasn’t it? John wouldn’t be around for very long. Even if he did decide to hang with Smitty a few times, he’d be gone before Smitty could even realize. And they hardly even talked now despite the fact they see each other every day. They definitely wouldn’t keep in touch once John left. 

Maybe Droid was right. Maybe he should just leave well enough alone, drop it before he gets too attached to someone who was inevitably going to leave him behind. 

It was probably for the best, for both of them. 

Right?

***

Smitty didn’t show up to practice the next day. He just couldn’t bring himself to. 

He texted the group chat to let them know he was gonna be taking that break after all.

Chapter Text

Smitty watched the clock, wondering if he should get over himself and get to practice as each minute passed. 

After twenty minutes, he gave up on the idea he could just show up a little late. After thirty, he curled up in bed and scrolled through TikTok to take his mind off things. 

When there was still ten minutes of practice left, Smitty heard his doorbell ring. 

Who could it even be? He knew exactly where all his friends were. 

It was probably Eli or Yumi, he realized. But they didn’t usually drop by unannounced like this. 

He got up to open the door. 

It was Matt. He held up a six-pack of Miller Lite. 

“I come in peace,” Matt said. 

“What are you doing here?” Smitty asked. “Isn’t practice still going?”

Matt shrugged. “I left early.”

Smitty fixed him with a pointed glare. “Matt—”

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t miss practice just cus you are. And I get that you want your space, and I’m just annoying you,” Matt said. “But—you’re my best friend. I don’t care what Puffer said about how you don’t have to tell us anything you don’t wanna or whatever—I’m not leaving here til I figure out what’s wrong.”

Smitty sighed. Still, he gestured for Matt to come inside. 

It’s like Matt said—they were best friends. Smitty could talk to him. 

“It’s not a big deal. I’ll be back tomorrow, I just wanted the day off,” Smitty said. 

“I just don’t get it. You begged Puffer to let you practice today, and then you didn't even show up.”

Matt took two cans from the pack he brought, passing one to Smitty. Smitty took a sip of the shitty beer, grimacing. 

“I don’t get it either, to be honest. Just wasn’t feeling it, I guess.”

Matt made his way to the living room couch, flopping onto it gracelessly. Smitty joined him. 

“Why not?” Matt asked. 

Smitty scoffed. “I told you, I don’t know why.”

Matt hummed. “I think you do. I think you do and you don’t wanna tell me.”

Smitty worried his lip. “It’s stupid.”

Matt waited for him to continue. Smitty pushed himself to find the words. 

“There’s…this person I’ve been talking to.” Smitty didn’t want Matt to know it was John, at least not yet, so he decided to be as vague as possible. “Well, kinda. We’ve only spoken twice. But I…I don’t know. Something about them makes me wish we could talk more.”

Smitty shook his head. “But it’s a bad idea, getting to know them better,” he continued. “There’s too much in the way, it doesn’t make sense to try and get closer to them when everything is telling me I should be running in the opposite direction.”

Matt smirked. “So, who is she?”

“What? Why are you assuming they’re a she?”

Matt laughed. “I should’ve known this was about a girl. You always get all mopey ‘n shit when you’ve got a crush.”

Smitty flushed. “I-It’s not—”

“Don’t try and deny it, it’s obvious you like her,” Matt said. “So, yeah—unless hanging out with me all these years has finally turned you gay, I’m pretty confident it’s a girl.”

Smitty hugged his knees to his chest. He needed another beer, and he wasn’t even finished with the first one. 

Matt sat up straight. “…Fuck. It’s not a girl, is it?” he asked, suddenly serious. 

Smitty slammed his drink down on the coffee table. “That’s what I was trying to tell you! It’s not like that—I don’t wanna date him, or whatever. I just…like being around him.”

Damn. That sounded pretty gay, didn’t it?

“Sure, I get that. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed shit,” Matt said. “…Do I know him?”

Smitty leaned his head back against the couch cushion, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t even know him.”

“So…this guy’s really the only reason you’ve been so off?” Matt asked. “Please don’t take this the wrong way—but what about him is so important? I get you wanna be his friend, but is it that serious?”

Smitty ran a hand through his hair before dropping his arm unceremoniously at his side. It shouldn’t be that serious—that’s the problem. 

“I shouldn’t care this much, should I?” Smitty sighed. “It’s weird that I care this much.”

“No. It’s not weird.”

Smitty cast a curious glance in Matt’s direction. He looked so intense, so honest. Smitty wasn’t sure he knew how to react to Matt being like this, taking shit seriously instead of making dumb jokes to brush things off. 

“I’m just trying to understand where you’re coming from,” Matt said. “What’s drawing you to him—why aren’t you sure if you should keep talking to him or not?”

Smitty hunched forward, grabbing his drink. He tapped his nails against the can, thinking. 

“He’s…confusing. I keep trying to figure him out, put the puzzle together. But each time I think I’ve found connecting pieces, the picture just comes back all blurry,” Smitty said. “That sounds so fucking dumb—I’m not making any sense—”

“Do you think you’re more interested in the mystery surrounding him than who he actually is as a person?” Matt asked, cutting him off. 

“…I never really thought about it like that. But I don’t think so?” Smitty felt weird talking about this, but he kept going. It was kinda nice to finally say some of these thoughts out loud, instead of holding it all in. “I wanna get past the mysterious shit, and really, actually know him.”

“But you don’t think you can.”

Smitty nodded. “He has all these walls up, and it feels like he wants to let me through them, but I’m not sure. He might not even give a fuck about me, it’s honestly hard to tell with him.”

“None of this even matters, though,” Smitty continued. “He’s leaving town soon, so I need to just leave him alone. He’s super fucking busy anyway.”

“Did he say he wanted you to leave him alone?” Matt asked. 

Smitty hesitated. “N-no, not exactly.”

John didn’t know what he wanted. But he promised Smitty he’d find out. 

Smitty believed him. 

“And what about you?” Matt pressed. “What about what you want?”

It was a surprisingly heavy question. He was so focused on what John wanted, he never really considered that his wants were important too. 

Obviously, he wanted to be closer to John—but what would that even look like? John clearly had his issues, and Smitty wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with them, so shouldn’t they stay apart? 

…Or was that all just an excuse so it’d hurt less when John told him to fuck off again? 

Even if John did want to see him again, that’d mean Smitty would actually have to face him, have to face all the conflicting feelings within himself that didn’t make any sense.

Did he even try to make them make sense? Was the picture only coming back blurry because Smitty insisted on looking at it with crossed eyes?

It’d be so much easier to pretend he never met John—to forget any of this ever happened. It’d be the smart thing to do. 

But it wasn’t what he wanted. And that mattered.

“What I want doesn’t matter.” Wait—shit. “I mean, it does. Just…fuck.” Smitty couldn’t be fumbling this harder if he tried. “What I mean is the ball’s in his court now. I basically told him if he wants to see me again, he knows where to find me.”

“You’re playing the waiting game,” Matt said. “And you’re not sure you wanna know the outcome.”

Smitty nodded. Matt took a swig of his beer before leveling his gaze right at Smitty. 

“You can’t keep giving this guy all your energy, man. Easier said than done, I know. But it’s like you said—it’s outta your hands. For better or worse, you left the decision up to him. You can’t control what he chooses, so please—try to let go, just a little bit. I get that you’re worried about what happens next, but it’s not happening right now. You have time to breathe, my guy. Take it.”

People gave Matt a lot of shit for being a dumbass, but in reality? He could be extremely emotionally intelligent when he wanted to be. He just didn’t like to, avoiding saying anything real in favor of finding the humor in things. 

Smitty understood that. Laughing things off always felt safer than examining them too closely. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Smitty gave Matt a small smile. It was the best he could manage. “Thanks.”

“I just hate seeing you like this,” Matt said. “You’re so focused on him you can’t even do the shit you enjoy doing.”

Aaaaaand there it is. Back to hockey, back to making him feel guilty for his absence. 

“I said I’ll be there tomorrow, didn’t I?”

“You said you’d be there today, too.”

Smitty grimaced. “Fair point.”

“You don’t have to come, if you don’t wanna,” Matt insisted. “I do really wish you wanted to, though.”

“I’ll be there,” Smitty repeated. 

He didn’t say whether or not he wanted to be there. Wasn’t sure he had the answer to that one. 

Or, more accurately, he didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t let Matt down. Smitty didn’t wanna disappoint him. 

Matt smiled, but he bit it back—like he wasn’t ready to get his hopes up just yet. 

“Cool. It’ll be fun.” Who was he trying to convince? “Wanna drink the rest of this shitty beer and watch an equally shitty movie?”

Smitty was already reaching for the remote, eager for a change in topic. Good, this was good. They could finally go back to normal. 

“Absolutely.”

***

Smitty does end up going to practice, if only to make sure Matt won’t show up at his front door with a six-pack of beer again. 

The first day back was a little rough. It was noticeable he still wasn’t at his best, but he was doing better than the other day, so nobody mentioned it. Smitty made a concentrated effort to get back on top. Over the next few days, he got there. Slowly but surely, he returned to his normal self. 

He’d taken Matt’s advice to heart. And while it was impossible for him to stop thinking about John entirely—trust him, he’s tried—he knew he had to give John space for the time being. 

There was a sort of freedom that came with realizing there was nothing left for him to do. All he could do now was wait. 

He still saw John every day after practice, but it doesn’t really affect him the way he thought it would. Instead of feeling confused or weary—he was impatient. Eager. He wanted to know what John would say, what he’d decide. 

When his friends weren't looking, Smitty threw kind smiles in John’s direction, waving from afar but never approaching. John would return these gestures with subtle nods or waves of his own—but never smiles. He still never smiled. 

Before Smitty knew it, it was game day. The locker room was buzzing in anticipation as his team hyped themselves up for the match. 

The energy was different here. They never used the locker rooms during practice, the rink was always empty so they could just throw their stuff wherever. But now the bleachers were lined with fans, friends and family, and with that knowledge came a certain pressure felt by everyone in the room. 

“Alright everybody, huddle up,” Tyler said. 

The team gathered around their coach, waiting for his over-the-top inspirational speech. Even Eli and Yumi joined in, despite the fact they knew they weren’t going to be playing today. 

“I know BBS has a strong team, I know some of you are going into this thinking we’ve already lost. But I tell ya what—you go in with that attitude? We’ll definitely lose. I want you to keep your heads up and your minds clear. Confidence and focus, y’hear me?”

“Yessir!” Droid cheered, giving Tyler a mock salute. 

“Good. Let’s run through some plays before this thing gets started.”

Tyler went over each member's strengths and weaknesses, letting them know where he wanted them positioned and who they should be focusing on from the other team. Puffer needed to run his strongest defense against Brian—they didn’t call him Terroriser for nothing, after all. Their goalie Anthony was tough to get past, so Droid needed to take risky unexpected shots to throw him off. 

So on and so forth. They’d played Banana Bus Squad a million times before, so it wasn’t anything new. Still, Smitty nodded along, taking it all in. Maybe they could really beat them this time. They’d done it a couple times already, why not today too?

“And watch out for Nogla. Especially you, Smitty,” Tyler concluded. “He is going to try and check you. Head on a swivel around him, okay?”

“I swear Nogla has some sorta vendetta against me,” Smitty said. “He’s all up in my shit every fucking game.”

“That’s a good thing. It means he sees you as a threat,” Tyler explained. “Keep giving him a reason to see you that way.”

Smitty gave a resolute nod. “I gotchu.”

“Alright, we gotta get out there,” Tyler said, checking his watch. “The warm up’s ‘bout to start.”

The team made their way to the ice, meeting face-to-face with BBS. They all exchanged practiced sportsmanlike nods. The thing was—the members of Froghouse and Banana Bus Squad were really good friends. But they’d agreed it was important to stay focused during games, and promised not to distract each other with stupid shit. 

They always caught up later, though. They’re all grabbing dinner together after this. 

The scoreboard flashed on, starting the three minute timer for the warm up. Tyler had them run through their usual drills, and Smitty was buzzing with anticipation. 

This was what it was all for. This feeling. 

Not knowing if they’ll win or lose. Pretending like the whole world hinged on his team's success. Acting as if this moment could define everything for him, even if he knew at the end of the day it was just a game. 

It was fun to over exaggerate the importance of it. Smitty’s pretty sure it helped him play better, too. 

Three minutes flew by and the announcer gave his usual spiel about the rules for the audience as well as listing off all the players names, numbers, and which position they’d be playing. Smitty tuned him out—he knew all this already. 

He drummed against his knee, impatient. He was itching to get back out there and play. 

It was easy to stop thinking about John when he had the game to look forward to. 

Fuck, did that count as thinking about him?

Smitty shook it off, filling his brain with thoughts of hockey, hockey, hockey. That was the focus, that was what mattered. 

Not whether or not John would’ve shown up today if Smitty had tried to ask him again. Back when he'd first posed the question, John had asked what time the game was. In the moment, Smitty thought John was asking to be polite, but now he knew better. John hadn’t been making nice or saving face—he didn’t do the fake nice thing everyone else did. 

He probably would’ve come. 

Why didn’t Smitty just give him the damn time? 

Stop it. 

Hockey. He was about to play hockey—and there was a team full of his closest friends depending on him. He wouldn’t let them down. He just wouldn’t. 

John wasn’t here, so what? All his actual friends were. 

The first period started, and Smitty locked the fuck in. 

Game time, baby. 

***

After the first period, Froghouse was up by one goal. After the second, BBS took the lead—but it had still been anyone’s game. 

Now, nearing the end of the third period, everybody knew who was gonna get the W. 

It wasn’t Froghouse. 

Tyler called a timeout with ten seconds left. 

“We can’t win,” Puffer said as they all huddled together. “Why even bother calling the timeout?”

“Because I want you guys to go out with a bang. No, you can’t score three goals in ten seconds. But you can score one. Show them Froghouse never stops fighting,” Tyler said. “Don’t be defeatist about this, alright? You guys played fucking good. So keep playing that way, even if you won’t win. Forget about defense—just attack. And don’t, for the love of god, let them score another goal.”

“Hell yeah, I’m with that,” Droid said. 

“Sounds good to me,” Rectrixx agreed. “It'd be nice if we only kinda lost instead of catastrophically failing like we are now.”

Tyler pointed at Rectrixx. “That attitude is not helpful.”

Rectrixx just shrugged. 

The timeout duration ended and the ref blew his whistle. Ten seconds left. 

Make it count. 

The puck dropped to the ice. Smitty stole it before Marcel could even blink. 

Be aggressive.  

Nine seconds. 

Nogla tried to check him. Smitty wasn’t going to let him this time. He dodged out of the way, and Nogla was the one who went flying into the wall instead. Smitty kept moving forward, his mind on only one thing. 

They would score this goal. 

Eight seconds. 

Matt and Droid were near the goal. He had to choose which of them to pass it to. 

Everything started moving in slow motion, Smitty’s thoughts running a mile a minute as he closed in on his target. 

He could try and make the shot himself, but Brock would probably intercept it. Droid was further back from the goal than Matt was, but Smitty knew he could make it from there. He was being guarded by Scotty and Brian, though—so he might have more trouble than usual. 

BBS had correctly identified Droid as the biggest threat, meaning they’d left Matt wide open. But it was still a tough choice—Matt might not make the shot, but Droid definitely would—if he could get the puck to him. 

Seven seconds. 

Smitty spotted a blind spot between Scotty and Brian where he could pass to Droid. He was confident he could get it to him—certain even. 

Six seconds. 

Droid would make the shot, yeah, but…but Droid always made the shot. 

Five seconds. 

If Matt made the shot, however—now that would be cause for celebration. 

Four seconds. 

Go out with a bang, right?

Three seconds. 

Smitty passed to Matt. Matt looked surprised, but he focused up, receiving the puck easily. All he had to do now was get it past Anthony. 

Two seconds. 

Matt took the shot. Anthony scrambled to block it. 

One second. 

The puck flew in. 

The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game. Froghouse was cheering way louder than what would typically be expected from a team who just lost. 

Matt’s goal was announced over the loudspeaker and the final score was revealed. 

4-6. How about that?

BBS was doing their own celebrating, but Smitty didn’t really pay them any mind. He just skated over to Matt and shook him violently by his shoulders, screaming in his face. 

“Holy fucking shit, dude!” Smitty exclaimed. “You did it! I fucking knew you could do it!”

“I sure as hell didn’t!” Matt laughed in disbelief. “I almost shit myself when you passed to me.”

The rest of their friends joined them, crowding Matt. Grizzy got a bit over excited and tackled Matt to the ground. 

“Fucking ow,” Matt whined. 

Grizzy got off and helped him up. “Yo—that was goddamn beautiful. What a shot dude, seriously.”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck, bashful. He’d always been bad at accepting direct compliments like that. 

“Ah, you know I can’t take all the credit. That assist was crazy, Smitty. You lined that shit up perfectly.”

Smitty shook his head. “Nah, this was all you.”

Matt smiled. Smitty yanked Matt’s helmet off his head and ruffled his hair. Matt batted his hand away in faux annoyance. 

BBS came up to say the usual, telling them they played a good game, and Smitty spotted Tyler shaking hands with their coach Delirious. 

The group confirmed their dinner plans before making their way off the ice. Froghouse was still buzzing as they headed to the locker room, unable to stop talking about that incredible final goal. Tyler congratulated them, saying he was proud of how they fought til the very end. Smitty was proud of his team too. 

They took off their gear and got changed, leaving the locker room once they were finished. Smitty almost had a heart attack when he stepped out the door. 

John was here. He was just there, leaning against the wall across from the locker room as he picked at his nails. 

He lifted his head as Smitty and his friends came into view, standing up a little straighter. Smitty was going to die. 

“Bruh am I hallucinating right now or is that actually Kryoz staring at us?” Grizzy asked. 

“What is he doing here?” Rectrixx asked, genuine curiosity masking most of his fear. “Do you think he knows someone from Banana Bus Squad?”

John took a step toward them. Toward Smitty, the person he was there for. 

…He was here for Smitty, right?

“Hey, Smitty,” John said. 

Well, that answers that.  

Fuck. He still hadn’t told his friends about John. He could feel their eyes on him, and it took everything he had in himself not to shrink under their critical stares.  

“…Hi? I, uh—I thought you weren’t coming?” Smitty said, his voice pitching to make everything sound like a question. 

“Yeah, about that—I was hoping I could talk to you for a sec, if you’ve got a minute.”

“Well, which is it?” Matt asked, narrowing his eyes at John. “Is it a second or a minute?”

Smitty elbowed him in the ribs. “We can talk.”

“Cool. Uh, I’ll just be outside—I’m not trying to interrupt or anything,” John said. “Um…good game. You guys all played really well. At least—I think you did. I know fuck all about hockey.”

Smitty laughed. He heard Droid laugh too before he tried to disguise it as a cough. Huh. 

“Thanks,” Smitty said. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

John nodded and took off. The group was eerily quiet until they were certain John was out of earshot—and then Smitty was flooded with questions. 

“You know Kryoz?” Rectrixx asked. 

Puffer squinted at Smitty, like he was trying to analyze him. “Are you friends?” 

“Why didn’t you tell us you knew him?” Grizzy wondered. 

“Okay, okay!” Smitty shouted over their voices, finally getting them to stop. “I promise I’ll tell you guys everything, alright? But I really do need to talk to him so it’s gonna have to wait.”

His friends continued to pester him, wanting answers, but Smitty wouldn’t budge. He’d talk to them later, they’d be fine. But if Smitty didn’t go see what John wanted right this very second he might actually fucking explode. 

Matt and Droid remained strangely silent as Smitty shrugged off his other teammate’s questions and concerns. 

“I’ll meet you guys at dinner, okay?” Smitty walked backwards toward the front door, where he saw John go.

“We carpooled here!” Puffer exclaimed. “How the fuck are you gonna get to the restaurant?”

“I’ll call an Uber!” Smitty spotted John and found himself moving in his direction without really meaning to. “Seriously, just go—I’ll see you there.”

He turned away from his friends, not waiting for their response. He heard some sighing and sounds of exasperation from behind him, but he ignored it. He’d find a way to make it up to them later. 

When he finally came face-to-face with John—he realized he had no idea what to say. 

But the thing on his mind was—“You said you were gonna be too busy.”

John gave him a half-shrug in return, a non-committal thing to try and downplay what it meant for him to be here—how substantial it was. 

“I made time.”

Smitty laughed—a surprised sound that bubbled out of him unexpectedly. He shook his head in disbelief. 

“I’m never gonna figure you out, am I?”

“Maybe not,” John said. “But…I hope, eventually, you will. I…I want you to.” 

Smitty smiled. “So, you’ve made up your mind then?”

That same shrug again, trying to pass this off like it was no big deal. Smitty wouldn’t have it. 

“You know this means you’re stuck with me now, right? I’m about to become so fucking annoying with how much I plan on bothering you.”

And then something happened. John smiled. 

It was a small thing, nothing more than a smirk, really—but it was there. Smitty’s head spun. 

Now that he knew John could smile, he wanted to see it all the time—wanted to make him beam so bright that all his teeth showed—wanted to make him laugh. 

Smitty doesn’t understand the feeling that rushed through him, but he does know it made him feel so very warm. 

“You can bother me all you like.” John’s voice was so soft it made Smitty want to melt. 

Smitty felt his face heat up. He willed the blush to go down. If anything, he was the one feeling bothered. 

“Have it your way,” Smitty said, playing it as cool as he could manage, hoping beyond hope his voice wouldn’t waver. 

John faltered, his face giving away how false his confidence really was. “I wasn’t lying before, you know. I fucking suck at talking to people. I only have two friends—one of them is another figure skater and the other is just his boyfriend who I only know by association. So, like—seriously, I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to back out now. I’m not the easiest to get along with.”

Smitty remembered the articles that talked about the friendly feud that John had going on with another skater. Pezzy. His friend’s name was Pezzy.

Smitty wasn’t sure why he felt relieved to hear that Pezzy had a boyfriend. It really shouldn’t have mattered. He didn’t even know the guy. 

But that means he’s not dating John. 

Smitty shook the thought away. “Oh, trust me—I know. I’ve literally never met anyone worse at socializing than you,” he said, unable to keep the smile off his face. Had he been smiling this whole time? “But you’re not getting rid of me that easily, man. Congratulations, you just made your third friend.”

John rolled his eyes, but the twinge of red that appeared at the tips of his ears and the way he playfully fidgeted with the rings on his fingers gave him away—he was happy. 

Smitty had made him happy.  

After only ever seeing doom and gloom from the guy, it was a refreshing sight. And a very, very welcome one. 

Actually, about the rings…

Smitty hadn’t properly looked John over until just now. He wasn’t in his usual attire, which made sense. He wasn’t here to practice skating. Which meant he was wearing clothes he actually liked instead of the plain workout clothes Smitty always saw him in. 

And…yeah. John had a really good sense of style. 

Beautiful intricate rings lined his fingers, matching the gold bracelets around his wrist and the chain hanging from his neck. His white jeans were covered in random smears of paint. (Did John paint? Or did he just buy them like that?) His pale blue shirt had a big flower stitched onto the front. Smitty wasn’t sure what the flower was—a daisy, maybe? The white petals stretched past the yellow center, and Smitty couldn’t help but notice the handmade quality of the thing. 

He remembered that John made his own competition outfits. Had he made this, too?

The jacket he was wearing sorta distracted from the look, if Smitty was being honest. It was just a simple zip up hoodie that John had clearly brought as an afterthought—like he only realized it was cold out right as he was leaving and grabbed the nearest thing to keep him warm. 

Speaking of it being cold out—Smitty was starting to feel the chill settle into his bones. He hadn’t worn a coat or anything—he wasn’t really planning on being outside for this long. 

“Hey, uh, as much as I’d like to stay and chat, I promised my friends I’d go meet them for dinner.” Smitty rubbed his arms to stay warm. “They’re already gonna be pissed with me, so I really shouldn’t make them wait too long.”

“Why would they be mad?” John asked, shrugging off his jacket. 

Huh, weird. Did he leave something in an inside pocket he needed to grab?

Smitty went to answer John’s question, but he lost all his words the second John held out his jacket toward him, gesturing for him to take it. 

Smitty looked down at the jacket, then back up at John. He blinked, if only because he didn’t know what else to do. 

John frowned. “You’re cold.”

“N-no, I’m fine. I’m used to this weather. I’m from Canada, so trust me—this isn’t that bad,” Smitty said. “Besides, if you give me your jacket then you’re just gonna get cold.”

He would’ve suggested they just go back inside so that neither of them had to be cold, but he knew that was no longer an option. After game days, Evan locked the doors to the rink the second the last person walked out, eager to get home as soon as possible. 

John tsked. He threw the jacket at Smitty, and Smitty caught it instinctively. 

“Well, I’m not putting it back on,” John declared, crossing his arms. “So you might as well wear it. Otherwise we’ll both be cold for no good reason.”

Smitty couldn’t help but laugh. “No one can change your mind once you’ve made it up, can they?”

“No, not really. Guess you’ll just have to get used to it.”

Smitty slid the jacket over his shoulders. “Guess so.”

It smelled faintly of honey and vanilla. It smelled like John. 

He zipped it up and shoved his hands in the pockets, feeling warmer for more reasons than just the jacket. 

“You never answered my question,” John said. 

“Huh? Oh.” Right. Why his friends were going to kill him. “I sorta…never told them about you? I was going to, but only if you actually wanted to be friends. But now they think I’ve been like…hiding something from them. And they hate that shit.”

“Oh, damn. I wouldn’t have talked to you in front of them if I knew it was gonna be a big deal. But…why would they even care?”

Smitty tensed. “Please don’t take this the wrong way—but some of my friends think you’re…uh…”

“An asshole?”

“They wouldn’t if they knew you! But, well—yeah. Kinda.”

John smiled again. And, yeah. Smitty could definitely get used to seeing that. 

“It’s cool, I’m not offended. It’s not like I don’t know how I come across.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them to change their minds about you. Once I tell them what you’re actually like, they'll calm down.”

John got this mischievous glint in his eyes. Smitty couldn’t tell if he should be excited or nervous. 

“Oh? And what am I actually like?”

It’s like John had started some kinda game between them. Smitty wasn’t sure what the game was, exactly, but he did know that he very much wanted to win. 

“Eh, you know. You put on that tough guy act, but it wears thin pretty quick. You were intimidating at first, sure—I’ll give you that. But you clearly can’t manage it for very long.”

John huffed, disbelief mixing with his amusement. “Is that so?”

Smitty shrugged. “I hate to say it, but you’re not nearly as mean as you’d like everyone to believe.”

John stepped closer. Smitty suddenly found it hard to breathe. 

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, his voice low. His tone was almost… inviting, somehow. “Maybe I’m only nice to you. Maybe you’re special.”

And just like that, Smitty knew—he’d lost. Game over. 

…But maybe losing wasn’t so bad after all, not if it felt like this. 

Smitty sputtered as he quickly tried to change the subject. “I-I gotta…dinner. My friends. I’m late.”

John took a step back, and—so suddenly it made Smitty feel nauseous—everything went back to normal. It was as if the past minute had never happened, like Smitty’d dreamt up the whole thing. 

Like it was never real. 

“Sure. You got a ride?” John asked. 

It irked Smitty how relaxed John seemed. How unaffected he was. 

“N-no, I’m just gonna call an Uber.”

John pulled out a set of keys from his pocket. “I’ll drive you.”

A few things struck Smitty as a bit odd, then. 

The first one being, “You have your car here? Aren’t you only here for the month?”

“It’s a rental.”

Okay, that tracked. A little weird to rent a car for a whole month, but sure. There was a bigger problem to address anyway. 

“…We could’ve gone to the car the whole time. Why didn’t you suggest it when you realized I was cold instead of giving me your jacket? We coulda just turned the heat on and then we both would’ve been warm.”

John doesn’t react, not really—but Smitty noticed the way he paused for just a beat too long. 

“Guess I didn’t really think about it.”

Smitty decided to drop it, not wanting to make a big deal out of what was probably nothing. But the thing was, John was the one who suggested that they talk outside. He knew it was going to be cold out. And the jacket he brought didn’t match his otherwise meticulously planned outfit. 

So…had he been planning on giving Smitty his jacket the whole time?

Smitty dismissed the idea immediately. John couldn’t have known Smitty wasn’t going to wear a coat. It was just the way things worked out. It simply hadn’t crossed John’s mind they could go to the car to warm up. That was all. 

“It’s whatever,” Smitty said. “But you should go start it so you don’t have to be cold anymore. And don’t worry about me, seriously—you don’t gotta take me.”

John looked at Smitty like he was an idiot. “I’m not leaving you out here.”

Smitty went to argue, but the look on John’s face made him realize his efforts would be futile. There was no fighting this. John had already made up his mind, and Smitty was just gonna have to get used to it. 

Besides, it wasn’t like he wanted to stop talking to John. It’d be nice to stay with him for a little while longer. 

“Okay,” Smitty relented. “Lead the way.”

***

Smitty didn’t wanna be rude, but…

“You drive like a grandma.”

John didn’t seem phased. “Yeah, I know. I only just recently got my license, so I’m being overly cautious,” he explained. “Bear with me, I promise I’ll get you there.”

“Wait, wait, wait—how recently?” Smitty asked, suddenly anxious. 

“Uhhh…well, technically I got it last year. But it was right before I left to go compete overseas, and I didn’t drive the whole time I was traveling, so I’m rusty. The last time I drove was when I passed my driving test, actually.”

Smitty’s eyes widened. “I feel like this is information you shoulda shared with me before I got in the car with you.”

“Relax. I said I passed the test, didn’t I?”

“A year ago.”  

“Right. Which is why I’m driving a little slow. Which I explained already,” John said. “It’s not as big a deal as you’re making it out to be. I’d never have offered to give you a ride if I didn’t think it’d be safe.”

Smitty sighed. “Fine. But next time we go somewhere, I’m driving.”

“Works for me. Where we going?”

“Huh?”

They were going to the restaurant. John’s phone had the GPS on, Smitty gave him the address before they left. He knew where they were going. 

“You said ‘next time we go somewhere,’” John reiterated. “So? Where were you planning on taking me?”

Oh. Smitty hadn’t even realized, but…yeah. He definitely implied they’d be doing this again. 

But that only made sense, right? They were supposed to be getting to know each other better. 

Did John think it was weird he was already thinking of seeing him again?

“Um. I don’t know, wherever you wanna go.” 

“Wherever, huh?” John asked, amused. “It’s a date, then. What time were you thinking of going? Whenever?”

Smitty laughed. “Shut up, dude.”

A date?

John hadn’t meant it like that. It was just part of the set up for his joke. John didn’t wanna date Smitty. 

…And Smitty didn’t wanna date John, obviously. 

Smitty suddenly needed to think about literally anything else. For no reason in particular. 

“Why’d you get your license right before leaving the country anyway?” Smitty asked. “Seems like you knew you wouldn’t be doing any driving while you were gone, so why not just wait til you got back?”

John tensed, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “I…I didn’t know I’d be leaving.”

“…What?”

“My coach plans where I compete and when. She usually tells me well in advance so I can prep properly, but she…It just slipped her mind. She forgot to tell me until the last minute.”

Smitty could only think of one thing to say. “That’s fucked.”

John shook his head. “I gave her free reign to choose my competitions forever ago. She’s way better at deciding this stuff than I am, and she’s always done an incredible job. I’m not gonna hold one little mistake against her.”

Smitty was beyond baffled. “One little—John. You were gone for a whole year! And you didn’t even know you’d be leaving! She uprooted your entire life without even having the decency to tell you it was happening! How can you be okay with that?”

“I told you before. Skating is my entire life. If I really didn’t wanna go then I didn’t have to. I chose to leave,” John said, his voice carefully even. “And don’t talk bad about my coach ever again, okay? She’s done everything for me.”

“…Okay. I’m sorry.” 

He wasn’t sure which part he was sorry for. All of it, maybe. 

“It’s fine, just—let’s just talk about something else.” Some of the tension left John’s shoulders, but it didn’t fade entirely. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, anyway.”

Smitty knew they should just move on, but he couldn’t get past it. What his coach did was wrong, mistake or not. 

Still, Smitty didn’t know her, and John obviously did—so he could only go by John’s account. If he says it’s fine, then it was fine. 

Knowing that doesn’t stop the unpleasant feeling swirling in his stomach. It just rubbed him the wrong way. 

But it wasn’t his business. It was between John and his coach, and Smitty didn’t need to get involved. 

“What is it?” Smitty asked, allowing the change in conversation. 

“You passed to Matt on that last shot.”

“…Yeah? That’s not really a question.”

“Why? From what I could tell, Droid was better at actually scoring. I know Matt made one of the goals before—but Droid made the other two. And he never missed, but I saw Matt miss that one in the second period.”

“I thought you said you knew fuck all about hockey.”

John huffed. “Just because I paid attention to the game doesn’t mean I understand it. But I can tell when a goal is or isn’t made—I have eyes.”

“Heh, fair enough.”

“…So?” John pressed, still waiting for Smitty’s response. 

Smitty decided to just go for the easy answer. “Matt was open. Droid was blocked by two guys. It was the obvious play.”

“You could’ve gotten it to Droid.” John sounded so confident that Smitty couldn’t help being taken aback. 

“I mean, it wouldn’t have been impossible, but—”

John shook his head. “I told you—I was paying attention. When you were able to get past that one guy who kept running into you, you always made your passes, no matter who was blocking what. It was like…” John paused, searching for the words. “It was like you could see it. There was always some line you were following—you could predict the path. It was pretty incredible to watch, actually.”

Smitty sunk into his seat, embarrassed. How could John just say shit like that? He said it so casually too, like he was talking about the fucking weather. 

“Uh…well, you know. Everyone on the team has their strengths,” Smitty deflected. “Mine is being good at assists. It’s really nothing special.”

John shrugged. “I disagree. But I know I’m not gonna change your mind with one conversation,” he said. “Besides, I still wanna know why you passed to Matt over Droid. And give me the real reason, this time.”

Why did he wanna know so bad? It wasn’t for any spectacular purpose, really. It was just what was best for the team. 

“We were obviously gonna lose either way, but coach said we could get one more goal if we committed. I saw no reason not to go for it,” Smitty said. “You’re right—I could’ve passed to Droid. I lined up the shot in my head perfectly and everything. But I knew it’d be a bigger win for us if Matt could score that final goal instead. It was risky, but the reward was too good to pass up.”

“But isn’t it better to get a guaranteed point? You weren’t sure Matt could make it.”

“Nah, I had faith in him. Besides—if Droid scored, it really wouldn’t have been all that impressive, and my team would’ve still gone home feeling shitty after the loss. This way, we had something to celebrate too.”

John pulled up to the restaurant, putting the car in park. He leaned on the center console, turning to face Smitty. His eyes were as piercing as ever, even in the dark. 

“So, you did it because you were looking out for them? You just didn’t want them to feel bad?” John asked. 

His tone was laced with something Smitty couldn’t quite put his finger on. He seemed overly invested in this one small choice. 

Smitty unbuckled his seat belt but made no move to leave the car. “They’re my friends. Why wouldn’t I be looking out for them?”

John looked confused and amazed all at once. “It’s really that simple, huh?”

Oh. 

John didn’t really have too much experience with having friends like that, did he?

Smitty was sure John’s friends were great. But based on what he knew about him…Smitty doubted John would ever let them get too close—always determined to keep everyone at arm's length. 

So that feeling of knowing someone who always has your back—someone who’d do anything for you without asking for something in return—John didn’t know it. 

And that broke Smitty’s heart. 

“It is, yeah,” Smitty said. “Or, it can be. As long as you don’t insist on making it complicated.”

John nodded, lost in thought. Smitty didn’t wanna leave him. 

He wanted to tell John to drive away from here, wanted to ask if they could wander aimlessly through the night and get lost together. 

He didn’t want to face his friends. 

…His friends…

Hey, wait a minute—

“How’d you know my friends' names?” Smitty asked. 

He swore he saw John’s eye twitch, but it was such a slight motion that he could’ve just imagined it. “The announcer said all your names before the game.”

And he remembered them? After hearing them once? And also—

“That explains Matt, but the announcer uses our real names. How’d you know about Droid?”

John wasn’t looking at him anymore. “I overheard it a few times at the rink.”

But John always sat on the opposite side of the rink from the rest of them. Could their voices have really traveled that far?

Smitty decided to let it go. John had no reason to lie, and he and his friends were pretty loud. 

A horrible realization dawned on him that made him forget the whole thing. “You heard…when the announcer called our names. You heard all of them?”

John seemed to pick up on what Smitty was getting at. “…Yeah.”

“Even mine?”

“Yeah.”

Smitty groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. “Can you do me a favor and forget that one please?”

“I can’t forget it. But I can promise you I’ll never use it.”

Smitty dropped his hands in his lap, sitting up a little straighter. “Really?”

“I’m not gonna call you something you obviously don’t wanna be called. You don’t call me Kryoz,” John said. “For what it’s worth, I think it suits you.”

Smitty made a face, twisting his features into something akin to a scowl. “I don’t. I’ve never really felt like a Jaren. It’s not like I hate my name or anything, but the only people who even call me that anymore are my parents, so it’s just weird to hear it from anyone else.”

“Makes sense. I still think it’s a cool name, but I get you. If you go by a nickname for long enough, you can sorta feel removed from your real name—like it’s not… you anymore.”

“…Is that how you feel about people calling you Kryoz?”

John had to constantly live up to this fictionalized version of himself. To the public, he was almost an idea more than a person. 

Did John feel like he was losing himself to Kryoz?

“No, it’s…I dunno.” John ran a hand through his hair. “You should get going. Your friend’s staring at us.”

“What?!” 

Smitty turned to see who John was talking about. He felt John grab his wrist, which made him turn right back around before he was able to see who was watching them. 

“Don’t look!” John chastised. 

“They’re looking! Why can’t I?” Smitty asked. “At least tell me who it is.”

“It’s Matt.”

Smitty groaned. “Has he been staring this whole time?”  

John nodded. Smitty wanted to scream. 

It’s official—he’s dead. Matt was gonna murder him in cold blood, feeling no remorse. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” Smitty whined. 

“Cus I knew you’d have to leave if you realized he was there. And I wasn’t ready for you to go yet.”

Smitty hated that those words made all his anger vanish in an instant. He hated the way his face started heating up. 

He hated how easily John could sway him. 

“Thanks for driving me,” Smitty said, putting his hand on the door handle. 

The longer he made Matt wait, the more trouble he’d be in. 

“Hang on,” John said. 

…Matt could wait a little longer. 

Smitty let go of the door. “Yeah?”

“Let me see your phone.”

“Why?” Smitty asked, already passing it over. 

“So I can give you my number.” John reached into his pocket and pulled out his own phone, unlocking it and handing it to Smitty. “And so you can give me yours.”

“Oh…right.”

He looked down at John’s phone in his hands, his heart beating a little faster. How could John trust him so quickly, so readily, when he seemed to trust no one at all? 

Why was Smitty always the exception?

He went to put his number in John’s phone as John added his to Smitty’s. Smitty couldn’t help but notice how plain John’s phone was. 

He had a simple black case on it, and his wallpaper was just one of the default ones. He didn’t seem to have any apps that weren't strictly necessary. It had no personality. 

There wasn’t a trace of John to be found. 

When he went to enter his number, Smitty caught a glimpse of the most recent contacts—Jess, Pezzy, and D. His two friends and his coach, probably. 

Smitty returned John’s phone as fast as he possibly could, feeling like he was invading his privacy. John handed Smitty’s phone back not long after. 

Smitty glanced down to see John’s number staring back at him. It was a little surreal. It was concrete proof that John wanted to keep talking. 

John had put a single sunflower emoji next to his name. Smitty wanted to ask him about it. Why a sunflower? Did they mean something significant to him? Did he just pick an emoji at random?

Whatever the reason, it made Smitty’s heart swell. 

But there was still something missing. 

He tapped on the blank contact photo and opened the camera. He threw his arm around John’s shoulders, pulling him close. John made a strangled sound of surprise as Smitty beamed, holding up a peace sign before taking the picture. 

He saved it to John’s contact without another thought. 

“Okay I forreal gotta go now,” Smitty said, finally stepping out of the car. “Here—”

He started unzipping John’s jacket so he could return it, but John held up a hand to stop him. 

John cleared his throat, like he was collecting himself. He seemed flustered, almost? But Smitty wasn’t sure why.

He was probably just tired or something. No need to read too deep into every little thing. 

“Keep it,” John said. “You can always give it back later.”

He knew he should insist, but the promise of later made Smitty’s protests die on his tongue. 

“Sure. See you.”

“Text me when you get home?” John asked. He must’ve noticed Smitty’s confusion. “I just wanna make sure you get back safe.”

“Okay, mom,” Smitty teased. “I promise I won’t stay out past curfew.”

John shook his head in a poor attempt to hide his smile. When he looked back up at Smitty, there was a certain fondness in his eyes that was almost overwhelming. It knocked Smitty off balance, how genuine he seemed. 

He wasn’t hiding anymore. Not from Smitty. 

“Bye!” Smitty could hear the strain in his voice. He slammed the car door shut without another word. 

He turned around and refused to look back, even when he came face-to-face with Matt. 

Now was when the real trouble began. 

Chapter Text

“Hey!” Smitty called, bounding across the parking lot to make his way to Matt. “You coulda waited for me inside. It’s cold out here, man.”

Matt didn’t waste any time. “He’s the guy, isn’t he?”

Smitty doesn’t have to ask what he means. “…Yeah.”

Matt only nodded, which drove Smitty up a wall. He just wanted him to say something. 

“I was going to tell you.”

That does get Matt to break. “But you didn’t.” He didn’t even sound angry. Just upset. And that was almost worse, somehow. “I had to find out.”

“Matt—”

“You’re my best friend. I tell you fucking everything. Why couldn’t you just—” Matt sighed, collecting himself. “You know I never woulda said all that stuff about him if you’d told me you were trying to be his friend.”

Smitty crossed his arms, folding in on himself. “I know you never meant anything by it. It’s like you said—it was just harmless celebrity gossip. You never thought you’d ever even talk to him,” he said. “…You never thought I would talk to him.”

It was quiet between them for a long time. Too fucking long. 

Matt was never quiet. Smitty wanted him to go back to screaming at the top of his lungs about the most insane shit, wanted to hear his loud laugh, wanted Matt to go back to being Matt. 

But eventually, finally, he spoke. “…Okay.”

“…Okay?”

“Okay. I get why you didn’t tell me. I wish you had, but I get it,” Matt said. “I’m only going to ask you one thing, and then I’ll never question you on this again. Afterwards you and Kryoz can hold hands and frolic into the sunset for all I care—but I just have to make sure.”

Smitty shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a new type of discomfort settling strangely through his whole body. “What is it?”

“…I know you know him better than I do. But he doesn’t have the reputation he does for no reason,” Matt began. “Are you positive it’s a good idea to get mixed up with him? Can you be 100% certain he can be trusted?”

For some reason that struck a nerve. “What, you think I’m a fucking idiot? You think I haven’t thought this through?” Smitty asked, defensive. 

“I never said that. Don’t be a dick.”

Smitty frowned. Matt was only asking because he was worried about him. He was asking because he was a good friend. And Smitty had been a pretty shit one recently. 

“…He’s far from perfect,” Smitty muttered. “But so am I. So is anyone. Is there something so wrong with giving him a chance?”

Matt stared into Smitty’s eyes, studying him. Smitty refused to let his resolve crumble under his unwavering gaze. 

“No, there’s not.”

The immense relief Smitty felt came as a bit of a shock. For some weird reason having Matt approve of John made it feel like a massive weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could breathe a little easier now.

“…So, we’re good?” Smitty asked. 

“We’re good. If you’re sure, then I’m sure,” Matt said. “Just don’t keep shit from me anymore.”

Smitty laughed. “Deal.”

“Ready to head in?” Matt asked. “You know they’re all gonna wanna talk about it. I can’t stop that from happening.”

“I know. But I gotta rip the band-aid off at some point, right?” Matt just gave him a shrug. “…Or maybe I could pretend this never happened and go home. That also sounds like a good plan.”

“Ignoring the problem doesn’t make it go away, dipshit.”

“…That’s fair,” Smitty agreed. “Fineeee, let’s go.”

Matt nodded and held the door open, letting Smitty go ahead. “Nice jacket.”

Smitty flushed. Matt knew this jacket didn’t belong to him. He knew it was John’s. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Smitty said, keeping his tone light—playful. “It’s windy out here.”

Matt laughed, loud and obnoxious. And what a wonderful sound it was. 

***

Smitty barely had time to sit down before everyone swarmed him, demanding answers. 

“You fuckin’ bitch!” Puffer screeched. “How could you not tell us you’re hanging around Kryoz?!”

“Seriously,” Grizzy agreed. “Like, how the fuck did that even happen?”

“I’m so confused…” Nogla muttered. “Why do we give a fuck about this Kyroz guy again?”

“It’s Kryoz you fuckin' idiot,” Brian said. “He’s a famous figure skater. That’s why everyone’s freaking out that Smitty knows him.”

“…He actually prefers to go by John,” Smitty mumbled. 

“Oh my god you’re on a first name basis with him,” Rectrixx said. “That’s crazy. You realize that’s fucking crazy, right?”

“I don’t think it’s that crazy.” Smitty looked around at their table. “Hey, where’s Scotty and Brock?”

Puffer pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t try and change the subject!”

“I’m not! I’m genuinely asking!”

“They headed home. Said they were too tired to hang after the game,” Marcel explained. 

Puffer wasted no time getting things back on track. “So, Kryoz—”

“It’s John,” Smitty insisted. 

“Sure. John. What’s the deal?”

Smitty decided it’d be best to just jump right into it. Dive into the water headfirst. 

“I met him the first day he showed up at the rink. I forgot my phone, went back to get it, and—I don’t know—he seemed cool. But I honestly never thought I’d talk to him after that,” Smitty said, internally cringing at the memory of how their first interaction ended. “I ran into him again that day at practice when I was playing like shit and you guys said I needed to take a break. He could tell I was upset and just offered to go on a walk with me. It sounds stupid, but—he really helped me. Today was only the third time I’ve ever spoken to him, so seriously—please don’t be too mad. It’s not like I was talking to him every day, I legit barely know him.”

“Alright, but you had to know we’d be curious about this,” Grizzy said. “You’ve been chatting up a celebrity.”

Anthony grabbed another roll out of the complimentary bread basket. “I don’t really get why we’re taking this so seriously. I get this dude is like, semi-famous, or whatever—but shouldn’t we just be happy that our friend made a new friend?”

Marcel nodded. “I’m with Anthony on this one. Like, genuinely—what’s the problem with Smitty hanging out with John?”

“The problem isn’t that he and John are friends,” Puffer stated. “The problem is he lied about it.”

“He didn’t lie,” Droid said, speaking up for the first time since Smitty sat down. “He just didn’t tell us yet—and he probably would’ve when he was ready to. Puffer—you told Smitty that he didn’t have to tell us shit if he didn’t want to. So, if anything, you’re the one who lied.”

The whole table fell silent as awkward glances were exchanged amongst the group. Droid wasn’t wrong, but he sounded a lot more intense than usual. More frustrated. 

“…Okay, I hear that. I’m being hypocritical,” Puffer said. “My fault, Smitty.”

Smitty waved a hand dismissively. “It’s totally chill. It’s not like I don’t get where you're coming from. It’d be one thing if I was just keeping something to myself, but I was doing shitty in practice and you guys deserved to know why. I knew I could tell you but I snapped instead, and that didn’t help anybody. So…you know. I’m sorry.”

Puffer’s face soured. “Wait—he’s the reason you were playing poorly?”

Grizzy cracked his knuckles. “Oh, don’t tell me that. Are we gonna have to kill this guy, Smitty? What’d he do?”

Smitty laughed. “Guys, relax. John didn’t do anything. I was just in my own head after talking to him and I was overthinking shit that didn’t matter,” he explained. “It’s all good. Please don’t kill him.”

His friends didn’t seem entirely convinced, but luckily they dropped it. Unluckily, Nogla just had to open his big mouth.

“You must be pretty gay for him if he’s got you fucking up at practice.”

Smitty instinctively sucked in a breath. His chest felt tight, his shoulders tensed, and he used all the willpower he had within him to keep his expression completely neutral. Nogla was just being Nogla. It was nothing he hadn’t said a hundred times.

…But then why did this time feel so different? Why did it hurt?

Brian elbowed Nogla in the ribs and rolled his eyes, his subtle way to tell him to shut the fuck up. Matt took a more direct approach.

“Shut the fuck up, Nogla.”

Nogla rubbed his injured side, frowning. “What? We make jokes like that all the time, why am I suddenly an asshole for it?” He seemed to come to a realization, his eyebrows raising. It was like a lightbulb went off over his head. “Ooooh. Unless you actually are gay for him?”

“Nogla,” Marcel scolded.

Brian hit him again, harder this time. Anthony only shook his head. He knew better than to get involved. 

But Smitty’s team, his ride-or-dies, the ones he’d trust with his life—they looked at Smitty like they were worried he was about to break. Suddenly, he was this fragile thing they had to handle with care.

Fuck that. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t glass.

And what Nogla said didn’t matter. It didn’t affect him. It shouldn't.

Why would it, anyway? Nogla was wrong, after all.

He was wrong.

“That’s not why, dipshit,” Matt said. “And, seriously? Throwing Smitty’s sexuality into question just cus no one found your ‘joke’ funny?”

He was mad. Really, actually mad, which Matt hardly ever was. Which didn’t make a lot of sense, because Matt had never been offended by gay jokes before, and often encouraged them. Early on in the group's friendship, Matt made it explicitly clear he was unbothered by shit like that, and made plenty of inappropriate jokes himself. So, what about this was different?

“Alright! I’m sorry!” Nogla tried. “I didn’t know the fucking rules changed, sue me. I won’t do it again if it means so much to you.”

“I don’t have a problem with it when you’re not being a fucking idiot,” Matt said, his voice as sharp and cutting as a knife. Smitty wanted them to stop. “But do you have any idea how much Smitty had to hear that kinda shit just for being friends with me? How often people assumed we just had to be dating because Smitty dared to be seen with me in public?” he asked. “And now he’s hanging out with another queer guy so he must be in love with him, right? There’s no other reason to chance talking to a faggot. Certainly not to be their friend.” 

Nobody talked for a long while after that. Not much to say, really, was there?

But at least Smitty knew what the issue was now. Matt never cared what anyone said about him, but the second it was about Smitty? All bets were off. He was protective of him, just as Smitty was of Matt. It’d always been that way. 

The only difference was that Matt actually succeeded. Smitty never could stand up for Matt in a way that mattered, a way that lasted. He felt like a failure for that. 

But it wasn’t the time to linger on the past. Smitty had to fix this, now. It was his fault, after all. 

If only he’d told his team about John sooner. Then he wouldn’t even need to bring it up with BBS. Not that he had anything against the other team, they were his friends too, but he didn’t particularly want to talk to them about this. 

But his team deserved answers, and they needed them tonight, so Smitty’d had no choice. And now this happened. And it was all his fault. 

…So much for not lingering on the past, huh?

“Matt,” Smitty started carefully. “Nogla didn’t even know who John was before today. He had no way of knowing John was bi. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah!” Nogla agreed immediately, echoing the sentiment. “I swear—I wasn’t trying to be like that. I was just saying shit, you know my mouth moves faster than my mind does.”

That at least got a half-hearted snort outta Matt. “That’s true,” he whispered. “It’s whatever. I was making it something it wasn’t. Just try and use at least half a brain cell before speaking next time?”

Nogla laughed, but it was strained. “Promise.”

The waitress came by to take their orders soon after that and the conversation shifted away from John. Things got lighter as time went on, but the tension in the room never fully dissipated. 

Smitty hated that. Hated that he didn’t fix it like he was supposed to. Hated how much he kept letting his friends down. 

Why couldn’t he do anything right?

Dinner ended and everyone said their goodbyes. Puffer dropped him off at his house and he crashed into his bed, barely remembering to text John that he’d made it home before passing out from sheer exhaustion. 

***

Smitty woke up and showered, trying to wash the self-loathing off him. It was going to have to be enough for now, he couldn’t wallow in this pity forever. He had shit to do. 

When he checked his phone a swirl of panic and something else filled his chest when he saw the missed call from John. From last night. After Smitty’d texted him and went to sleep. John had wanted to talk to him. 

With fumbling hands Smitty called the number back, not really thinking much beyond feeling like he absolutely had to. 

But when the ringing stopped and John’s quiet hello came through the speaker, it took everything in him not to hang up right then and there. 

But that would be the cowardly thing to do. And Smitty was tired of being a coward. 

“Hey, sorry I missed you last night,” Smitty said, clenching his fist in an attempt to keep his voice from shaking. “I was pretty tired when I got back.”

“No worries,” John replied easily. Seriously, how did he always keep his voice so even? So perfect? “I was just gonna see if you wanted to stay after hockey today and hang with me for my practice.”

Smitty’s head spun. John wanted to hang out with him? So soon?

…John wanted to hang out with him!

“I thought outsiders weren’t allowed at your precious practices,” Smitty teased. 

“I said you were special, didn’t I?” John asked. Smitty was glad John couldn’t see how red his face got. “I think I can make an exception. Just don’t tell my coach.”

Smitty laughed. “Deal. I’ll be there.”

“Cool, see you.”

John hung up startlingly fast. Smitty didn’t even have time to mention that there wasn’t hockey practice today. He figured it was still fine to show up for John’s, though. 

***

“Where’s your team?” John asked when Smitty walked into the rink. He’d made sure to get here just around the time his practice usually ended. He thought he’d be here before John, though. It was almost like he came early today. “Did they head out already?”

Smitty shook his head and took a seat next to John who was tying up his skate’s laces. Those same bright pink wonders that Smitty just adored. 

“We didn’t have practice today,” Smitty explained. 

John’s eyes widened. “Oh. I wouldn’t’ve asked you to hang today if I knew it was going to be out of your way.”

Smitty shrugged. “I wanted to come. Plus, the rink is only like ten minutes from me. Definitely not out of my way.”

John’s face twisted, unsure. If Smitty were to guess, he’d say John was worried about bothering him. Which was funny, really—because Smitty felt like he couldn’t get enough of him. 

As always, John’s neutral expression returned. “Do you guys not always have practice on the weekends? I guess I should’ve thought of that.”

“Yeah, not usually. We do when we’re about to be up against the stronger teams, like BBS, but otherwise we usually skip Saturday and Sunday. Games get cancelled or moved around on occasion too, which is why we had practice last Friday instead of a match. We just kinda gotta be flexible with the scheduling sometimes,” Smitty explained. “But, actually—we don’t have practice for the whole week.”

“Really?” John sounded incredulous. He probably couldn’t imagine a day off from his rigorous routine, let alone a week. “Why?”

“Our next game’s against The Misfits. And no offense to them, they’re good guys—well, when they wanna be, anyway—but they are terrible at hockey.”

“Why does that mean you shouldn’t practice?”

“Dude. They literally show up to every match high as fuck. They’ve never even scored a point against us.”

John frowned, like this was somehow genuinely upsetting to hear. “What happens if they suddenly decide they want to take the game seriously? What if they’ve been practicing every day since your last match and because you've been slacking you lose against someone you shouldn’t have?” he asked, truly seeking the answer. “You should never underestimate your opponent.”

Smitty blinked at him, astounded. What the hell was that?

“Okay, like, I hear you—but I promise it’s not that serious,” Smitty reasoned. “Honestly, if The Misfits did somehow manage to win a game against us, my team would probably celebrate.”

The crease between John’s eyebrows never left, but a small smile split the illusion that he was actually frustrated. 

“I just don’t get you,” John murmured. 

Smitty balked. “What? Why?”

“You don’t seem to care if you win or lose. Isn’t the whole point to win? Don’t you want to?”

“Of course I want to.” Smitty laughed. He wasn’t trying to be mean, but John was being more than a little ridiculous. “I like winning. It’s not like I’m out here throwing games for the bit. But, I mean…c’mon. It’d be one thing if we were in the NHL, and not that we never take it seriously, but all of us are mainly there just cus we like hockey. We do it cus it’s fun.”

John looked at Smitty like he was an alien from another planet. A whole other galaxy, really. 

“…Isn’t that part of why you skate?” Smitty asked. “Because you like to?”

John ignored the question. “So, theoretically—you’d rather lose a game you had fun playing rather than win a game where you didn’t.”

Smitty contemplated this. “I don’t know—is that even a fair question? Isn’t winning always fun?”

John seemed so lost after that, so far away. “Not always,” he said, and didn’t elaborate. 

John got up without another word and made his way onto the rink. He skated to where Smitty was seated, throwing one arm over his head and leaning it against the glass. 

Smitty’d once been grateful for that wall between them. Now all he wanted to do was take a hammer to it. 

The glass divided them, and Smitty so desperately wanted them to be close. 

“Do me a favor?” John asked. 

“What’s up?”

“My phone’s already connected to the overhead speakers. I just need you to press play when I say so,” John said. “I’m gonna run through the whole routine with the music, and then I’m gonna need you to go to specific parts that I need to do over again. Got it?”

“Well, uh—”

“Good.” 

John pushed off the wall without waiting for a proper answer and skated toward the center. It gave Smitty déjà vu watching John put his hands to the sky as he stood in the middle of the ice, looking like some ethereal, untouchable being. 

How did John have that effect on him? It must’ve been magic—John had cast a spell. 

“Now,” John called, his voice booming out, the echo carrying the message to Smitty. 

So Smitty hit play. And John began to move as the music swelled. 

And sure, Smitty had seen him skate once before. But to the music? It was another thing entirely.  

The song started slowly. A soft piano that sounded as if it was crying came through the speakers, and John matched his movements to every note. The pain in the song only grew, even as it crescendoed and became louder, almost harsh—but still somehow always managing to sound beautiful throughout. 

There was a certain power John wielded when he was on the ice. Like he’d learned fucking wizardry the same time he’d learned figure skating. The music had possessed him entirely, his body merely a vessel to express the meaning of the sound. 

And yet, despite how wonderful it all was, Smitty could feel his heart breaking apart. When John was done, he’d wanted to cry. 

Not because it was over, no—more because it had happened at all. 

Smitty couldn’t explain that feeling. He only knew he felt it. 

John skated back up to Smitty after catching his breath, a faint, insecure twist to his mouth. “What, no applause this time?”

Smitty was only faintly aware of his body as he moved to stand, his legs carrying him closer and closer to John. He put his hand against the tempered glass. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could reach through and touch. 

What he wanted to say was, “I’ve never known anyone like you.” 

What he said instead? “S-sorry, uh—I think you actually just made me speechless for a minute there.”

John rolled his eyes like Smitty was being sarcastic. “You’re way too easily impressed,” he said. “It’s doing incredible things for my ego, don’t get me wrong—but you should really raise your standards.”

“My standards are fine,” Smitty said. “You’re the only one who can’t see how great you are.”

A tiny hint of a smile slipped its way onto John’s lips. Something Smitty was learning was how shy John could be. It was cute. 

Or—cute wasn’t really the right word. Endearing, more like. 

“I need you to go to a minute thirteen in the song,” John said, switching gears. “There’s a jump there I need to work on. Just keep replaying it for me.”

“Sure.”

And so it went. John kept asking Smitty to play the music from different timestamps, and Smitty obliged. Even if he didn’t understand how John knew the exact second each of his tricks took place. It was all so purposeful, like John had done the math and his routine was the perfect formula for success. 

Every decision had meaning. Nothing had been left to chance. 

Eventually, practice ended and John rejoined him on the bleachers, and it all felt too familiar. 

Smitty was on edge, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Any moment now, he would say something wrong, and John would tell him to fuck off. 

It had happened before, and it could happen again. 

He told himself he was being absurd, he and John were clearly past that—but the anxiety dug its claws deep into his skin and didn’t let go regardless of how hard he tried to fight it off. 

“How’d it go with your friends?” John asked, shaking him out of his stupor. “They still think I’m an asshole?”

Smitty tried for a smile, but even he knew it looked wrong. “No, not really. They know I wouldn’t be friends with you if you were,” he said. “Though there was that brief moment when Grizzy threatened to kill you. He got over it pretty quick, if that makes you feel any better.”

John leaned against the bleachers and fixed Smitty with a lopsided grin. “It doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence. But hey—at least it means you’ve got good friends.” John’s smile dissipated as his gaze grew more serious. “They’re not still mad at you, are they?”

Smitty thought of how everything went down last night. How he’d thought his friends being mad at him was going to be the worst of it. 

He’d never been more wrong. 

“Nah, I don’t think so. To be honest I think they were more surprised than anything else,” Smitty said. “Matt was the most upset but he had the most right to be. After clearing things up with him it felt easier to do so with the rest of my team.”

John frowned. “It sounds like it went well.”

Smitty matched his expression. “Yeah? Is that a bad thing?”

“No, it just doesn’t explain why you’re upset.”

What? “I'm not upset.”

“Yes you are.”

Genuinely, what the fuck?

“If you keep insisting that I am then yeah—I’m about to be.”

John sighed. “I’m not trying to be difficult, it was just an observation. I thought it was because of me at first, like you weren’t sure you made the right call about seeing me again or something.” He picked at his nails, like he needed a distraction from his own honesty. “But it wasn’t that. You’ve been spacing out, thinking about something else entirely. I figured it had to do with last night, was all.”

How had John noticed all that? Smitty hadn’t even realized how off he’d acted but looking back on it…John wasn’t wrong. He’d carried yesterday with him, bringing it in here without even knowing. 

“…Okay, so it didn’t go perfectly,” Smitty admitted. “But it’s not like I thought it would.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to like it,” John said. “If you wanna talk about it…y’know. I’m here.”

Smitty scoffed. John didn't exactly strike him as a guy you could talk about your feelings to. 

“You don’t wanna hear about my bullshit.”

“Sure I do.” John crossed his legs, the motion effectively moving him closer to Smitty. “What are friends for?”

There was something about their proximity, something about how there was no one else around, that made Smitty feel like he could spill all his deepest, darkest secrets. They’d be safe here, Smitty’s sure of it. 

They’d be safe with John. 

“…I’m sorry I was so out of it. I was actually really glad you invited me here, it was an excuse to take my mind off things,” Smitty said. “But you deserved to have my full attention, and you didn’t. I never meant to make you feel like I was upset with you.”

“You don’t gotta apologize for having a life outside of me, man. We’re not married. And even if we were—it’d be pretty toxic of me to demand you give me your undivided attention 100% of the time.” Smitty tried not to imagine John in a suit, his makeup done beautifully, waiting at the altar for someone else to arrive. He really, really tried. “You’re allowed to worry about the shit that’s worrying you.”

Smitty gave a weak nod in acknowledgment. “Yeah, thanks. I appreciate that.”

“Don’t gotta thank me either. Not when I’m only stating the obvious.”

Smitty shrugged. “Sometimes the obvious gets…obscured. It can be easy to forget,” he said. “It helps to have someone who can remind you.”

John looked at him with such a wonderful warmth in his eyes. “Well, in that case I’m glad I could be that for you.” There was a brief moment where they just smiled at each other. It was nice, though the butterflies fluttering frantically in his stomach might disagree. “So what’s really been on your mind, then?”

Smitty pulled a knee up to his chest, resting his cheek against his leg as he looked up at John. It was then that he could feel it, how exhausted he was. 

“A lot of stuff, I guess. I’m tired of letting my friends down, for one,” Smitty started, keeping his voice low. “Matt deserves a better best friend. My teammates deserve a better player. If I hadn’t been so caught up in my own bullshit, they could’ve focused on themselves during practice instead of having to pick up my slack. We could’ve won against BBS. We would’ve, if not for me.” Smitty held his leg a little tighter. “And I have no idea what’s going on with Droid. No one will talk about it, even though we can all feel it. Something’s been up with him for a while now, but of course they haven’t forced him to talk because his hockey hasn’t suffered. And I don’t know how to get him to open up, let alone help him. It feels like it’s been getting worse, and that it’s going to keep getting worse the longer we pretend it’s not happening. And Nogla—”

Smitty swallowed. No. He didn’t want to talk about Nogla. 

“…And Nogla what?” John prompted. 

Smitty shook his head. “Nothing. He was just being an idiot and it didn’t help the already shit mood I’d been in. So…yeah. I, uh…I guess that’s why I was a little distracted.”

Smitty felt a rush of embarrassment swim through him. After airing everything out like that, the only thing left was the regret of having said anything at all. 

That was a bit much, don’tcha think?

What was it about sitting on these bleachers with John that made him share way too much?

Or, more accurately—what was it about John?

“C’mon, Smitty—you have to know that’s not true,” John said. “You are not letting your friends down.”

Smitty scoffed. “Yeah? How would you know?”

“I know you passed to Matt over Droid because you knew it would make them happy to see him score that final goal.”

Smitty appreciated what John was trying to do, he did. But John just didn’t get it. 

“But I told you—we could’ve won. My team would’ve felt a hell of a lot better if we’d pulled that off,” Smitty argued. “But I fumbled one too many practices, and look what that got us. I should’ve played better. I can play better.”

“Shoulda, coulda, fucking woulda. Didn’t you just say winning isn’t everything?” Smitty went to explain himself—to try and defend his position, but John continued, refusing to let him get a word in. “Besides, you may not have been at your best—but you still showed up for them, didn’t you? You went to practice whether you wanted to or not all for their sake. Hell, you went for the simple fact that Matt wanted you there.”

Smitty startled. “How did you…”

“I saw both you and Matt missing from the rink the day after I caught you harassing that poor trash can. All I know is hockey was pissing you off, you took a break the next day and Matt just so happened to also be absent, and all the sudden you’re both back like nothing ever happened,” John said. “You’re telling me you didn’t come back for him? For your whole team?”

Smitty wanted to say a lot of things. What he settled on was, “You pay a lot more attention than you let on, don’t you?”

“Answer the question,” John deflected. 

He wasn’t going to let Smitty out of this. Fine. He supposed he brought this on himself. 

“Yeah, I came back for them,” Smitty relented. “So what? I still failed them, when it came down to it.”

“Is that how they see it?” John asked. 

That gave Smitty pause. He tried to view it from his friends’ perspectives. 

Froghouse had celebrated last night, despite the loss. They’d celebrated because Smitty made a good call in the final moments of the game. That's how they’d seen it. 

“No,” Smitty admitted softly. “Not at all.”

“Then you didn’t let them down.” The way John said it made it sound so simple. “And you said they weren’t mad at you anymore for not telling them about me, so there’s nothing for you to worry about on that front either. They’re with you, Smitty, the same way you wouldn’t dare to be without them. Quite frankly—I think it might be impossible for any of you to let the others down. You simply won’t allow it.”

Smitty smiled at that. Him and his friends had a strong bond, no doubt about that. And to know it was so visible, even to an outsider—well, that was just nice to hear. 

“You’re right. I was being way harder on myself than I needed to be.”

The corner of John’s mouth pulled upward into a cocky grin. “I always am.” 

What a smug bastard. Smitty wanted to kiss that stupid smirk off his face. 

…What?

Wait…what?

No he didn’t. 

What?

“…And, look—about Droid,” John continued, his voice taking on a different tone. He suddenly looked so guilty. That made Smitty nervous. “I’m sure he knows he can talk to you guys. I bet he wants to.” Smitty didn’t understand how John could sound so confident about a situation he had no real context for. “Maybe it’s just…hard for him to bring up. If he gets worse then, yeah, you should try and figure out what’s up. But for now…maybe it’d be okay if you let him take his time. Wait til he’s ready to mention it on his own, y’know?”

Smitty scuffed his shoe against the floor. “…I just wanna know he’s okay.”

John seemed conflicted. “…Smitty. Droid, he…” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly as if he’d changed his mind on what to say. “It only makes sense you’d worry about him. He’s someone you care a great deal for. But I’m sure he’s fine. He clearly has a great support system he can turn to whenever he needs. He knows you’re there for him. Just let him come to you.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Sure. But that doesn’t mean you can’t do it.”

Smitty finally let go of the vice-grip he’d had on his leg, allowing it to fall to the side. He leaned back, more open, the stress finally starting to trickle out of his body. 

“I know. I just hate having to be patient,” Smitty said. “But it’s not a bad idea. So long as nothing too drastic changes, I’ll wait as long as it takes.” He put his hands in his lap, fiddling with his shoe laces. “Thanks for the advice, and for listening. I didn’t mean to dump so much on you. I know we still don’t know each other that well.”

John shrugged. “The only way we can get to know each other better is by sharing shit, no?”

Smitty huffed out a laugh. “That is true.”

But Smitty had the distinct feeling he was going to be the one to do most of the sharing. He doubted John would ever tell him much of anything.

He hoped John would prove him wrong. 

“You must be hungry after all that,” Smitty said, shedding off any lasting intensity from their conversation. “Wanna grab something?”

John wore a disappointed scowl. “Wish I could. But, actually—the reason I asked you to hang at practice today was because I don’t really have any other free time.” Smitty wanted to argue that practice was not, in fact, free time. “I like being around you, but you’ve gotta understand—nothing about me has changed. Skating’s constantly gonna be in the way of me seeing you.”

Smitty wished John would just allow himself the tiniest of breaks. Wished he could understand the importance of getting away from it all. 

But he knew he couldn’t change his mind. Not now, anyway. 

“That’s understandable. I know skating is the number one priority for you. I’m not gonna try and fuck with that,” Smitty said. “But if practice is the only time I can see you—you mind if I keep dropping by?”

John beamed, like Smitty had just given him the most amazing gift. Just as quick as that wonderful smile appeared, it was gone—John tampered it down, always refusing to show any emotion for too long. It was as if, in his mind, it was a crime to be happy. Like it was a weakness instead of a strength. 

All Smitty wanted was to make him light up like that again. Over and over again, forever. 

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” John said. 

Despite the evenness of his voice, Smitty swore he could hear the excitement in it. It was faint, but it was there. 

Or maybe he was only imagining it. 

“Then I’ll be there.”

***

Smitty didn’t miss a single practice.

The week went by far too quickly for his liking. But, hey—that just meant he was having fun, right? Time flies and all that.

“How do you remember the timestamps for the music?” Smitty had asked on Sunday. “Seems like a hard thing to keep track of.”

“Not really,” John said. “I kinda just know what trick goes where, which is easy to remember since I made the song and I specifically planned the rhythm around the routine I had in my head.”

Smitty couldn’t help his jaw from falling open. “You made it?” he asked, astonished.

“Uh, yeah. It’s the first time I’m gonna be using an original song at a competition. My coach had to fight pretty hard to convince the judges to even allow it.”

“God, John—that’s incredible!” Smitty exclaimed, unable to contain his amazement. “Dude, I swear, you are the most talented person I have ever met. Is there anything you can’t do?”

John glanced at Smitty with something like doubt clouding his eyes. Whether he believed Smitty or not, he turned the most lovely shade of red.

Red always had been Smitty’s favorite color. John wore it well.

“There’s plenty I can’t do.”

Smitty scoffed. “Like what?”

John shrugged, looking away. “I’m not brave like you.”

Smitty had tried to ask him what he meant. He didn’t particularly consider himself brave of all things. Quite the opposite, actually. But John refused to elaborate.

Maybe he just saw something in Smitty that Smitty couldn’t see for himself. Maybe they both put the other on too high a pedestal, only seeing the good and refusing to look at the bad.

Or maybe they could only ever see the bad in themselves, and they needed each other to show them that there was so much more to them than they realized. Maybe they completed each other.

That’s a weird way to think of a friend.

On Monday Smitty saw Evan talking to John outside the rink. They didn’t spot him before finishing their conversation, and John headed inside. 

As Evan walked toward the parking lot he saw Smitty, greeting him with a smile. Smitty smiled back, giving him a nod.

“Hey, what’s up?” Evan asked. “I thought you guys didn’t have practice this week. Did you leave something here? It’s past closing, but I can run in and grab it for you.”

Smitty shook his head. “Nah, I’m just here for J—”

The name died on his tongue. John wasn’t supposed to let people watch him practice. Telling Evan could get John in trouble. That was the last thing Smitty wanted.

“...What, did you forget?” Evan asked, teasing.

Smitty didn’t say anything. His eyes darted from Evan to the entrance of the rink. He should just say he forgot what day it was or something. He could turn around and walk back to his car and wait there until Evan left. 

But Smitty had been silent for too long. Evan came to a conclusion all on his own.

“Oh, god—not again…” Evan ran a hand down his face. “First the Pezzy situation and now John’s doing it too?”

What the fuck was he talking about? What did Pezzy have to do with any of this?

“Who’s John?” Smitty tried.

But his voice came out shaky and high-pitched. Evan wasn’t buying it.

“Look—I have a hell of a lot of respect for both Jess and John. And you, for that matter. Which is why I’m gonna pretend I never saw you here today, okay? But you need to be fucking careful if you’re gonna keep sneaking around like this. Jess would kill you two if she ever found out.”

Smitty huffed. “It’s not like we're doing anything wrong.”

Evan’s expression softened. “No, you aren’t,” he said, his tone so genuine it caught Smitty off-guard. “But trust me, you do not wanna piss her off.”

Smitty frowned, staring down at his shoes. He decided he did not like Jess.

Evan sighed. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. You’re both grown ass men. You can make your own decisions,” he said. “But leave me the hell out of it. I want no part in whatever’s going on here. The less I know, the better. Got that?”

“...Yeah. Got it.”

Evan was silent for a while, his eyes searching Smitty’s. Smitty wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

He put a hand on Smitty’s shoulder. “Good. Take care of yourself, yeah?” Evan hesitated before adding, “Take care of him too.”

Smitty surprised himself with how fast he answered. “I will.”

Evan smiled, patting Smitty’s shoulder before walking off, leaving Smitty alone in the cold. Something was off. Smitty had missed something crucial.

“Hey, there you are,” John said upon Smitty’s arrival. “How are you?”

Smitty plastered a smile on his lips. “Never better.”

After that, Smitty made a promise to himself that he’d never be caught like that again.

“Do you think you’ll beat Pezzy?” Smitty wondered on Tuesday.

John paused, his hands stilling around the laces of his skates. “...How do you even know who that is?”

Oh, right. John had never told him about Pezzy. Oops.

“Okay, so—don’t be mad, but I may or may not have googled you after we first met,” Smitty admitted.

John smirked. “I’m not mad. More flattered, really,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Just couldn’t get enough of me, huh?”

Smitty rolled his eyes and playfully shoved John’s arm, but he knew he was blushing. “Just answer the question. I saw you had some kinda friendly rivalry going on with him. I’ve never seen him skate, but if people think he’s got a shot at winning against you, he must be pretty good.”

John tucked his skates away, moving to put on his sneakers. “Pezzy won’t win.”

John sounded certain. “I gotta say, I love the confidence,” Smitty said. “Where was this before? I seem to recall you saying you were just ‘okay’ at skating. Which is still such bullshit, by the way.”

“I know that, objectively, I’m good at what I do. But I have higher standards for myself. I know I can be better—I need to be better. If I just say I’m the greatest skater who ever lived or whatever, I’ll never improve. There’s no room for narcissism.” What the fuck was he talking about? This didn’t sound like John—all the sudden it felt like Smitty was talking to someone else. “Pezzy’s a fantastic skater. But he started later than I did, so he’ll always be playing catch-up. And he won’t ever be able to close that gap, not with the way things are now.”

“What do you mean?”

“...Pezzy has a life outside of all this. I don’t.” John picked at his nails, frowning. “So, I don’t know. At the competition, when you see me with the gold and him with silver, he’ll be smiling and I won’t. You’ll have to tell me who really won, then.”

Smitty’s chest ached, a stabbing pain shooting straight through his heart. “John—”

“Pezzy’s great, though. It’d be cool if you got to meet him.” Why did he do that? Why does he always avoid talking about anything real? “He kinda reminds me of you. He wasn’t intimidated by me at all when I met him.”

Smitty allowed the change in their conversation, even if he didn’t really want to. But he couldn’t force John to open up, and besides—he did want to hear more about John’s friend. 

“Really?” Smitty asked, unable to hide the giddiness in his voice. 

John nodded. “Really. He just kept gushing about what an inspiration I was to him with these wide, starry eyes. I didn’t pay him any mind, really, but he didn’t even care. And then he got way too close to my score for my coach’s liking, and you bet your ass I was paying attention then. He even had the audacity to ask me for tips on how to improve so that he could beat me next time. He wasn’t even remotely bothered by the fact he lost. If anything, it just seemed to spur him on.” 

Smitty laughed. He had to respect it, Pezzy was bold. 

John smiled, recalling the memory. “Jess said it’d be a good idea to get close to him for, like, tactical reasons, y’know? So she didn’t mind me hanging around him. And at first, I was gonna try and get in his head, mess him up like Jess wanted. But he was just so irrefutably, impossibly nice. No matter what I said, and I said a lot of shit. But it just bounced right off him. He only ever showed me kindness, so it was only fair I showed him the same. If I wasn’t going to win fairly against my opponents, I may as well not win at all. That's what I was telling myself, anyway, instead of just admitting to myself that I liked the guy. And before I knew it, I stopped having the energy to pretend there was still some ulterior motive to spending time with him, and we were friends. Just like that.”

Smitty beamed. “That’s awesome. He sounds really cool. If you get the chance to introduce us, I’d love to meet him.”

John’s expression faltered. “Y-yeah, I mean…I want you to meet him. It’s just kinda complicated. He’s been glued to his boyfriend’s side lately, and they aren’t exactly public, so…you know.”

“I get it,” Smitty said. “But if they ever do go public, let me know. I wanna meet both of them. They’re your friends, and they’re important to you, so they’re important to me, too.”

John looked wistful, like Smitty meeting his other friends was some far-off dream he could never hope for. Smitty didn’t fully understand. What was so unrealistic about it?

Unless John had no plans of keeping Smitty in his life after he left. 

Smitty wanted to push the thought away. But when he tried to picture what their relationship would look like once John was gone, he came up with blank, empty, nothing. He just couldn’t see how this was going to work.

He felt an overwhelming sense of dread.

“I’d really like that,” John said. 

Smitty couldn’t help but wonder if John was telling him the truth. 

On Wednesday, John had somehow convinced Smitty to get on the ice with him. 

Smitty had only asked how John did that one move—the 360 jump where he landed facing the same direction he’d started from. Smitty was just trying to understand how he got it so precisely, so accurate and exact every single time. But John took it a different way. 

“Oh, it’s really not that hard,” John said. “C’mon, I’ll teach you.”

Smitty scoffed. “Teach me? No, John, I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah. But it’ll be fun.” John had that glint in his eye that Smitty knew meant trouble. “And I could use a break from practice, anyway.”

John knew how desperately Smitty wanted him to take a break. He was using this knowledge against him to get what he wanted. It was really unfair. 

And yet, Smitty was smiling. 

Goddamn it. 

“I don’t even have my skates,” Smitty said. 

John gave him a blank stare. “Just grab a pair from the counter at the front. No one’s gonna care.”

It took a bit more pushing from John, but eventually Smitty caved. 

Next thing he knew he was skating to meet John in the center of the ice. Smitty stopped about a foot away, suddenly nervous about getting too close. 

John tried to show him what to do with his arms, then his legs—and Smitty was paying attention, really, but it was difficult after John closed the distance between them. 

“Actually, it’ll just be easier if I move you into the starting position,” John said. “Is that okay?”

Smitty nodded, swallowing hard—unable to form words. 

“Cool.” Then John’s hands were on his wrists, tugging them gently. Smitty’s arms turned to jelly, allowing John to manipulate them however he pleased. “So, your arms are gonna start down here, slightly to the left, but when you jump they’re gonna move with you. Up and diagonally. You wanna move them as right as you possibly can, but keep them tight and close to your chest, okay? Like how you’ve seen me do it. The momentum helps carry you forward so you can spin the whole way around.”

Smitty didn’t catch any of that. “Right, got it.”

He let go of Smitty’s wrists to tap the side of his thigh, and Smitty fully lost the ability to form any coherent thought. 

“Move this leg back a bit—no, too far—okay good! Stay there,” John said. “That’s the form you need to be in before the jump. You ready to try it?”

“Not even a little bit.”

John just shook his head. Smitty asked him to show him the jump a few more times, stalling. But eventually John caught on to what he was doing, and made Smitty make his attempt. 

Smitty knew he couldn’t do it. He’d seen John do it plenty of times by this point, sure. But that was part of why he knew he couldn’t do it. He knew his strengths, and he was confident in utilizing the abilities he had to their full potential. This, however, was not a part of his skill set. 

But, whatever. John wanted him to try, so he’d try. 

He took a deep breath, getting into position just as John had shown him. Then he leapt. 

He didn’t make it the full 360. Maybe 275, and that was being generous. He landed at an awkward angle and wasn’t able to recover fast enough before the skates slipped out from under him and he fell gracelessly on his back. 

Well. That was horrifically embarrassing. 

Smitty sat up with a groan. He saw John standing with his hands over his mouth and wide eyes. The second he saw Smitty was okay, though—a miracle happened. 

John’s widened eyes narrowed, creasing at the edges as his hands moved to clutch his stomach, and then he laughed. 

It was vibrant and uncontrollable, tearing out of him without his permission. It was the most beautiful sound Smitty had ever heard. He never wanted it to stop. 

The laugh seemed to surprise John as much as it had surprised Smitty. He tilted his head back, looking away from Smitty for a beat to let some air into his lungs and regain his composure. 

“Fuck,” John said, another snicker breaking through. He reached out a hand to help Smitty up. “I know I shouldn’t laugh, but in my defense it was pretty funny.”

Smitty didn’t move to take John’s hand—he didn’t move at all. He only stared up at John, replaying that laugh over and over again in his head, committing it to memory. 

John frowned down at him. Fuck. He’d just been smiling, laughing, and Smitty made that all go away in an instant. All because he couldn’t contain his awe. 

“Shit, you aren’t actually hurt, are you?” John asked, kneeling beside Smitty and looking him over. 

Smitty had to explain. “I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

It was the wrong thing to say. John’s expression only soured further. 

“It just caught me off-guard,” Smitty tried. “You have a nice laugh.”

“I like it when you’re happy,” he doesn’t add. 

John sighed and pulled Smitty to his feet. “Alright, you’re done. No way am I letting you try that again when your first attempt was that disastrous. No offense.”

“Some taken.”

John huffed. “Just go sit down before you really get hurt.”

Thursday was the last day Smitty got to watch John practice before his game against The Misfits. He learned from John that Evan didn’t allow John to use the rink on game days. Said it was too much of a hassle.

“Do you want me at your game tomorrow?” John asked. 

“You don’t have to bother. It’s probably gonna be super boring,” Smitty said. “I mean, it’s kinda funny to watch The Misfits stumble around the ice for a few minutes, but it doesn’t stay entertaining for long.”

“Okay. But do you want me there?”

This felt like a trap somehow. A trick. 

John had to know Smitty wanted him there. Smitty was convinced John just wanted to hear him say it. 

“You know I do,” Smitty said, enjoying the way John tried to hide his shy smile behind his hand. “But, actually—I’d much rather you come to the party we’re gonna have the night after. The Misfits won’t be there, just me and the guys from Froghouse. I was thinking about how I might not get to meet your friends, at least not for a while, and figured I could at least introduce you to mine.”

John made a face, his features scrunching up in uncertainty. It was the exact face Smitty had pictured John making when he’d first had the idea to invite him. It was kinda funny how accurate Smitty’s imagination had been.

“I have practice, Smit.” Smit? “Besides, don’t most of your friends hate me? Doesn’t exactly sound like a good time.”

Smitty sighed. “None of them hated you. They had… concerns that I have since cleared up. They’ve honestly been pestering me about meeting you all week. I’ve already asked if it was okay if you came Saturday.” That wasn’t a lie. His friends had been asking about John non-stop. In person, over text, on the phone—it was constant. And it was getting annoying fast. The sooner they got to meet John, the sooner they’d stop badgering Smitty about it. “But I get you’re busy. Still…think about it, yeah? I’ll send you my address in case you end up being able to make it.”

Smitty pulled out his phone before John could protest. He smiled at the last text John had sent him, a picture of a tree John had stumbled across on his jog earlier. 

Smitty had been truly delighted to find out that John liked texting. A lot. They didn’t call much, but Smitty assumed that mainly had to do with the fact John spent most of his time with his coach. And Smitty was 99% sure Jess didn’t even know he existed.

Scratch that—he’s 100% sure.

So they texted. John sent photos of the sky and pretty flowers he found on his runs around the city, Smitty sent dumb memes that popped up on his For You page and pictures of his food he got while out with friends. And they just…kept each other updated on what they were doing all throughout the day.

It was nice. John was carving out a space for Smitty, a place to stand beside him. To be a part of his life.

Smitty typed in his address and sent it to John, and heard John’s phone ding with the notification. He didn’t think much of it, but John was staring at his phone in awe. He couldn’t believe Smitty had shared such private information so freely, Smitty reasoned.

“...It’s at your place?” John asked, never looking up from his screen.

“Yeah. And don’t worry if you can’t stay too long, or whatever. Even if you can only swing by real quick, it’d mean the world to me. It’d be nice if we got to hang outside the rink for once, right?”

John had this incredible hopefulness swimming in his eyes that he was actively trying to blink away. He never let himself feel anything other than emptiness. To do so only seemed to set him up for disappointment.

“I want to go.” John had to force the words out. “I’ll try to be there. But, for the sake of transparency—”

“I know,” Smitty said, cutting him off. “No guarantees.”

There never was. Not with John.

***

As expected, they absolutely destroyed The Misfits. 

They did almost score a point against Froghouse, though, which was certainly an improvement. Swagger had tripped over nothing when literally no one was near him, which caused Grizzy to double over with laughter, and Fitz had used the opportunity to take a shot. Grizzy was able to recover just enough to block it, still wheezing hysterically as he did.

Tobi, their coach, had only shook her head in disappointment. But her red eyes and her inability to stop giggling gave her away. She was high too.

John did end up managing to make it to the game. Though he only made his presence known at the end of the night, when Smitty had parted from all of his friends, standing by his car and fishing in his pockets for his keys.

Froghouse usually came to games together—but after last week Puffer told Smitty to drive his own damn self as punishment for ditching them. Smitty thought it was only fair, and Puffer agreed that after tonight they’d go back to their usual routine.

“Boo,” John whispered against his ear. 

Smitty didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. He felt his skin tingling and had to suppress a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.

He faced John with a lopsided smile, leaning against his car door. “I told you it’d be boring.”

“I wasn’t bored,” John insisted. “How could I be, when I was watching you the whole time?”

Smitty felt the air grow warm, then warmer. It was almost winter, and yet, he felt like he was standing beside a goddamn furnace.

“Well, regardless,” Smitty said, clearing his throat. “Our next game’s gonna be so much better. We’re playing against a team that’s actually competent, thank fuck. Oh—but don’t worry about making it to that one, it’s an away game, and I know—”

“Smit.” John’s eyes filled with crushing sorrow. “Your game is on Friday. My competition’s on Thursday. I’ll be leaving the next morning. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. And I do want to, for the record.”

Smitty felt something in him crack. He nodded, resigned.

“Right, well…like I said. It was too out of your way anyway, it wouldn’t’ve worked out.” Smitty clutched his arms over his chest. “Don’t worry about it.”

John looked like he wanted to say something, but he seemed to pivot, changing his words at the last minute. He did that a lot. “I believe you promised me a ride,” he said, gesturing to Smitty’s car.

Smitty smirked. “That I did.”

“You ever decide where we’re going?”

He had the horrible feeling he’d go anywhere with John if it meant staying by his side.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Chapter Text

They’d ended up at Mellow Point. It was this outlook over the city that had the best views, especially at night. Smitty wasn’t sure why he’d taken them here, it was just that John said he didn’t care where they went and Smitty had a bad feeling about taking him anywhere too public.

Up here, they could be alone.

“How many girls have you brought to this place?” John asked.

Two.

“What?” Smitty laughed, pretending the idea never even occurred to him. “None.”

John shrugged. “That’s a shame. It’s a good date spot,” he said. “Sucks you wasted it on me.”

“Doesn’t feel like a waste to me.”

John shook his head, but he was smiling. Smitty counted it as a win.

“Sure,” John said. “I’m just saying, it’s romantic. Next time you should bring someone you’re interested in.”

Smitty thought about the girls he brought here. Thought about how much he trusted them before he did. Thought about how he hadn’t shared this spot with anyone else since.

But John wasn’t just anybody. So what if the feelings he had for him weren’t romantic? That didn’t make them any less real. Friendship was just as important as anything else.

…Sure, he’d never taken any of his other friends up here. But that didn’t mean anything.

None of it meant anything.

“Yeah, maybe.” But the only person Smitty wanted to be beside him was already there. “I’ll think about it.”

They were sitting on the hood of Smitty’s car, their backs pressed against the windshield. They’d stopped at a gas station just before coming here, so they had some snacks and drinks laying between them. Smitty took a drink of his Arizona Iced Tea and passed it over to John for him to try.

John took it but frowned, not yet taking a sip. Smitty rolled his eyes.

“Are you seriously worried about drinking after me?” Smitty asked, incredulous. “It’s not like I have herpes or some shit, dude.”

“It’s not that.” John flipped the can around and pointed to the ingredient list. “Too much sugar.”

Oh. Smitty hadn’t really thought about it before, but—

“You on a pretty strict diet?” he asked.

John nodded, holding the can back out to Smitty. Smitty made no move to take it.

“Only you and me up here,” Smitty said. “No one would know if you had a bit. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. You can give it back. But you could stand to live a little.”

John took that as a challenge. He tilted the can back and took three big gulps before tearing it away from his lips. Smitty watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

“...This tastes like ass,” John said, his nose scrunching up in disgust.

Smitty laughed, snatching the tea away. John unscrewed his water bottle and took a swig, swishing it around.

“You’re so fucking dramatic,” Smitty said. “It cannot have been that bad.”

“No—I’m forreal worried about you.” The corner of John’s mouth quirked up into a smirk. “Your palette is beyond fucked if that garbage is anywhere near enjoyable to you.”

Smitty stared John dead in the eyes before chugging the rest of the tea in one go. Was it a good idea? Far from it. But the look of horror on John’s face he saw once he’d finished had made it all worth it. There was also this gleam in his eyes that made Smitty think he might’ve even been impressed.

The initial shock faded, and John burst into laughter. 

That beautiful laughter.

Smitty’s pretty sure he’d do just about anything to hear that laugh.

“Wow, you’re a fucking idiot,” John said.

Smitty beamed. He sure was.

“No, you.”

***

They’d fallen into a comfortable silence after a while. They’d laid back, staring up at the endless expanse of stars. Smitty kept getting this itching feeling under his skin, like he was being watched—but anytime he turned to John to see if he was looking, John was only staring at the sky.

“Hey, so—I talked to my coach,” John said, his voice breaking through the quiet. Still, he was speaking softly, not disturbing the peace that’d settled over them. “She was supposed to come watch me practice tomorrow, but I convinced her to give me one more day to make sure I had the routine perfect before she saw it.”

Smitty had to process this information for a minute before he understood what it meant. When it finally clicked, his eyes widened. He shifted from his current position, moving to face John. 

This time, John was looking back.

“So, theoretically—you could skip practice tomorrow and come to my place,” Smitty said.

John shrugged. “Theoretically.”

Smitty smiled. “Cool.”

John bit back a smile of his own. “Cool.”

Smitty forced himself to turn back to the stars. They seemed dimmer than before. Maybe because they couldn’t hold a candle to John’s eyes.

That’s just fucking stupid.

“...Can I ask about her? Your coach?” Smitty asked, pushing his strange thoughts aside. “I get if you don’t want to, but I promise I’m not gonna talk shit or anything like that. It’s just—she’s such a huge part of your life and I know nothing about her.”

John sighed. “You know her name’s Jess,” he tried.

Smitty scoffed. “I mean anything real.”

“That is real. Jess is her really real, real name.”

“...Okay, John. We don’t have to talk about her.”

He heard John shuffle beside him. He was uncomfortable.

That wasn’t what Smitty wanted. He only wanted to understand.

“She’s a family friend,” John started. Smitty swallowed his surprise and listened. “My parents were pretty busy when I was growing up—still are, really. Being big, hot-shot lawyers will do that, I guess.” Smitty wanted to look back over at John, but he worried that’d make him stop talking. “Anyway, Jess was around when they weren’t. Which was, uh…often. She drove me to school, helped me with homework, gave me advice about girls—then boys too, once she found out. She was the first person I told I was bi, actually. I trusted her with everything. For so long it felt like us against the world, you know? She just always had my back.”

Smitty’s ribs felt funny, too tight around his lungs. John spoke of Jess with such fondness that it made Smitty want to cry. 

Because Smitty can hear the wistfulness in it, the nostalgia. John was talking about a version of Jess that existed solely in the past.

“That sounds really nice,” Smitty whispered.

“Yeah.” John’s voice cracked around the word. “She was the best.”

Was.

“She took me skating a lot. I loved it. I loved it because she loved it. She taught me everything I know. She was coaching me long before she was ever actually my coach.” John dropped his hand to his side, his pinky brushing against Smitty’s. Neither of them moved. “It was fun, when it was just us. And I’m not saying it’s not fun now—but it is…different. At first it was this cool hobby we shared, but she said I had real potential. That I could go pro, like she did.” Smitty linked their pinkies together, an attempt to be a reassuring presence. “She suffered a severe injury early in her career. It completely fucked her future. She wasn’t ever able to compete again, after it happened. And I thought…this was her chance. I was her chance. Her name would finally get the respect it deserved.”

Smitty finally turned back to John, so John turned toward him too, the two folding into each other. They didn’t break the small point of contact between them.

“God, I can’t even imagine how awful that was for her, never being able to compete again,” Smitty said, his voice low and somber. “It’d kill me if I couldn't play hockey anymore.”

John shook his head. “She didn’t deserve that shit. It never should’ve happened. It’s so fucking unfair.”

John was blinking back tears. One fell down his cheek, and Smitty wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

“I know.” Smitty heavily debated the next words out of his mouth. He knew what he wanted to say, but he was almost certain John wouldn’t take it well. Still, he couldn’t help but think it was something John needed to hear. “But you can’t keep destroying yourself trying to fix something that broke a long time ago.”

John doesn’t get mad like Smitty thought he would. He hardly reacted at all.

“It’s late.” John sat up, stretching his arms over his head, ripping his hand away from Smitty’s. There was nothing in John’s inflection that gave him away, no sign of what he was really thinking. He sounded hollowed out. He had nothing left to give. “We should get going.” 

Smitty stared at the back of John’s head. John continued to face forward, refusing to look behind him—refusing to meet Smitty’s gaze. Smitty knew there was nothing he could say to get through to him, to make him really listen, so he didn’t even try. John was done talking about this, so that was that. It was how it always went with him. 

Smitty felt like screaming. “Okay,” he said instead. “We can go.”

So they left.

***

The drive back had been terribly silent. The only words they’d exchanged were when John thanked Smitty for taking him back to his rental car (which he’d left at the rink so he could ride around with Smitty). It had been so unbearably awkward. 

So Smitty wasn’t sure if he was going to come tonight.

He’d kinda hinted that he would, but that was before Smitty had the bright idea of bringing up Jess. But now?

Now every time the doorbell rang Smitty’s whole body reacted. He jumped, his head whipping toward the noise, walking over to answer it just a bit too quickly.

But it was never John. 

First it was Matt, then Rectrixx. Puffer arrived shortly after with Grizzy. 

Puffer, Grizzy and Rectrixx were in the living room, setting up Mario Kart. Smitty was mixing Matt’s drink when the doorbell sounded again. Smitty flinched reflexively, his eyes drawn away from his task.

“Dude!” Matt cried.

Smitty’s gaze turned back to Matt, and then down to where Matt was looking. He forgot to stop pouring. Orange juice spilled over the cup onto the counter before dripping to the floor. What a fucking mess.

“Shit,” Smitty hissed, reaching behind him for some paper towels. “Can somebody get that?”

It was just gonna be Droid, anyway. He’d be fine if Smitty wasn’t the one who answered the door.

“I got it!” Rectrixx exclaimed. 

The open floor plan made it easy to hear him, even from the kitchen. The layout was actually why most of their group hangs were at Smitty’s place—they could talk to each other from pretty much anywhere. Plus the vibes were good here. At least, according to his friends. 

Smitty didn’t mind hosting. He actually really liked it. It was almost a point of pride, knowing he’d created such an inviting atmosphere. His friends felt at ease here, in his home. He’d made it a spot for them just as much as it was for him. They could come here whenever they needed. They were always welcome.

Smitty watched Rectrixx move toward the entryway before returning his focus to cleaning the spill. Matt snatched a few paper towels of his own to help him.

“You’ve gotta relax, man,” Matt said. “If he shows, he shows. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t.”

Smitty rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “That’s super helpful.”

Matt took the damp paper towels from Smitty’s hand and tossed them into the trash with a sigh. “I’m just saying—”

“Oh, fuck,” Rectrixx said, startled. 

Smitty looked over at Rectrixx, concerned. The front door was open. Rectrixx’s grip on the knob was too tight, his knuckles going white. The person standing before him wasn’t Droid. 

It was John.

Oh, fuck indeed.

“Um, hi,” John said. He sounded so nervous. “It’s Rectrixx, right?”

Smitty rushed to clean the rest of the drink off the floor. He shouldn’t leave Rectrixx with John for too long—not before he could prove to Rectrixx that John wasn’t as scary as he seemed.

“...You know my name?” Rectrixx asked, disbelief mixing with something else Smitty couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“Yeah, of course,” John said. “Smitty talks about you guys all the time.”

Smitty almost went to correct him. Yes, Smitty talked about his friends a lot, that was true. But that wasn’t how John learned their names. He knew them before Smitty ever told him.

He kept telling himself John simply had a good memory. It would make sense with all the routines and schedules he had to keep track of. But something about that explanation just didn’t sit right with him.

“Awwww,” Puffer cooed mockingly. He shifted his body to rest his arms over the back of the couch so he could bat his eyes at Smitty. “You been talking about us? I knew you were obsessed with me.”

Suddenly, Smitty hated how open his house was, resenting how easily everyone could hear everything.

Smitty flipped him off. Puffer just laughed.

The floor was still a bit sticky from the orange juice, but Smitty left it for now. He could tell Rectrixx was floundering, unsure what to do or say. 

Smitty walked over, beaming at John. “Hey, man! Glad you could make it.”

John smiled back at him. “Yeah, me too.”

Rectrixx held the door open a little wider to let John inside. John adjusted the strap of his duffel bag before stepping in.

Smitty stared at the bag, confused. It was the bag he usually carried his skates in.

“What’d you bring?” Smitty asked. “Those aren’t your skates, are they?”

“Oh, no. But I told Jess I was gonna be at practice so I left with my stuff to make it more convincing,” John explained. “My skates are in the car. This is actually filled with something else.”

Smitty raised an eyebrow. He had to admit, he was intrigued. 

John reached down and unzipped the bag, holding it open to show off the contents inside.

“Holy shit…” Rectrixx said.

“Jesus Christ, John,” Smitty muttered. “That is a fuckton of alcohol.”

Smitty spotted a bottle of Jack Daniels, three different brands of vodka, and two separate cases of beer. And that was just what was visible. There might’ve been more.

“Yeah, I swung by the liquor store before I got here.” Swung by? He cleared out the place! “I didn’t know what you guys liked so I just grabbed whatever.”

“You could’ve texted me and asked,” Smitty said, amused.

“Yeah, but you woulda just told me I didn’t have to bring anything.”

“Eh, you’re not wrong.”

John hauled the bag off his shoulder and passed it to Smitty. Smitty took it and brought it to the kitchen, John and Rectrixx following close behind. He set it on the counter, taking everything out. Matt immediately grabbed a beer.

“Matt!” Smitty chastised. 

“What?” Matt asked. “He brought ‘em for us, didn’t he?”

“At least wait til I get everything out, damn.” Smitty tsked. “So fucking impatient.”

John laughed. It was quieter than usual—more reserved.

“Nah, he’s good,” John said. “I don’t drink, so you guys have at it.”

He didn’t drink at all? Yet he’d gone out of his way to buy all this alcohol just for them? What the hell?

Puffer and Grizzy joined them in the kitchen, looking over the merchandise. 

Grizzy whistled, low and impressed. “If this is an attempt to get on our good side, it’s working.”

“You don’t drink?” Matt asked.

John blinked, surprised. “Uh, no. Never have. It’d just fuck with my training.”

“What about that picture of you and that guy everyone thinks is your boyfriend at the bar?” Why was Matt interrogating him like this? When had Matt looked John up? Smitty shot him a look, but it went ignored. “You weren’t drinking with him?”

John tensed. “Pezzy’s not my boyfriend,” he clarified. “He had a drink, yeah—just one to celebrate us getting first and second at our competition. But I was drinking water. Not that anyone believed that when that stupid picture started going around.”

Matt hummed. “Sorry to hear that, man. I’m sure that got annoying,” he said, genuinely sympathetic. “Hope you aren’t mad that I asked. I wasn’t trying to assume anything, just making sure I had the facts straight.”

“...Right, yeah.” John leaned closer to Smitty. Smitty got the sense John would be hiding behind him if he could. “No worries.”

“Okaaayyyy.” Puffer tried for a laugh, but it came out a bit wobbly. “If we’re done with…whatever the hell that was—I’m Puffer. I know you already know all our names, but—eh.” He shrugged. “Still feel like we should introduce ourselves.”

John relaxed slightly. “It’s good to meet you.”

Grizzy nodded at John. “I’m Grizzy. And you got my favorite,” he said, holding up the bottle of Jack Daniels. “So we’re cool.”

The last bit of tension left John’s shoulders. “Cool.”

Rectrixx shifted awkwardly. “...You said my name by the door, I don’t feel like I really gotta repeat it—”

“No, yeah. I’ve got it,” John said. He faced Matt, then. “Which just leaves Matt.”

“Yeah. Nice to finally get to meet you,” Matt said. “Sorry again if I was being shitty, I really wasn’t tryna be like that.”

John shook his head. “It’s fine. You and Smitty are close and I’m pretty publicly known as an ice cold piece of shit, so…I get it.”

Puffer shrugged, opening up one of the vodkas. “You don’t seem like a piece of shit to me. You brought free booze, for one thing,” he said. “And Smitty talks about you like the sun shines outta your ass, so you’re probably alright.”

“Oh?” John smirked, catching Smitty’s eye. All his shyness vanished in an instant, replaced with that usual mischief Smitty was starting to get used to. “What have you been saying about me, Smit?”

Smitty felt his mouth go dry. He saw Matt tilt his head curiously at the nickname. He started pouring another drink to distract himself, refusing to face anyone in the room. He wasn’t sure what his expression would give away.

He’s saved from having to answer John’s question by the doorbell. Perfect timing.

“That’s gotta be Droid,” Smitty said. “Finish getting your drinks ‘n shit. I’ll be right back.”

Smitty opened the door. Droid immediately wrapped him up in a hug.

“Yo!” Droid cheered. “My man!” He pulled back, keeping a hand on Smitty’s shoulder. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic, y’know?”

Smitty could tell he was lying, but he didn’t wanna push it. Wherever Droid was before this, he would tell Smitty if he wanted to. And he obviously didn’t want to right now.

“It’s cool. You know I’m good with you guys showing up whenever,” Smitty said.

“That’s what’s up.” Droid kicked his shoes off, leaving them by the door. “Please tell me you’ve got a Modelo.”

Smitty laughed. “You know I always keep that shit stocked for you. But actually, John brought some too.”

Smitty didn’t realize it til just then, but—John had pretty much perfectly picked his friends’ favorite drinks. Hadn’t he said he’d just guessed? How the fuck had he gotten it so accurate?

“Oh, he’s already here?” Droid asked, whispering so no one else could hear. “My fault, man. I shoulda been here to meet him with everyone else.”

Smitty waved a hand dismissively. “I already told you, you’re all good. Let’s get you that drink.”

Droid and Smitty joined the group in the kitchen. Puffer passed Droid an open Modelo. 

“See? This is why I fuck with you, Puffer.”

Puffer laughed, knocking his drink against Droid’s. 

Droid took a sip of his beer before addressing John. “Sup, man? I’m Droid.”

John couldn’t meet Droid’s gaze. He had no problem managing eye contact with everyone else when they’d introduced themselves, so what was so different about Droid?

“John.” 

He’d barely managed to say his own name, for fucks sake. Something was definitely going on there, but what?

Could…Could John and Droid know each other? 

But—no, that was impossible. They wouldn’t keep something like that a secret for this long. They had no reason to. Besides, Smitty knew the names of everyone John talked to on a regular basis, and Droid wasn’t one of them.

No one else seemed to notice the weird energy between the two, so Smitty let it go. John was probably just getting overwhelmed by meeting so many new people at once.

Smitty was asking a lot of him with this, he knew that. But he also couldn’t help feeling relieved that John was getting more and more out of his comfort zone. And, selfishly, he wanted to keep pushing John to see just how much he could do when he wasn’t confined to insane predetermined bullshit standards.

Droid chugged the rest of his Modelo, already reaching for another one. “Let's get this shit started, then!”

***

Smitty was happily surprised by how easily John acclimated to the group. He fit right in without even having to try—he belonged here.

As the Mario Kart competition started up, John and Grizzy talked about their workout routines and diets. Rectrixx, Puffer, Droid and Matt screamed in the background of their conversation, each of them desperately trying to win the stupid race playing on the TV. Puffer won, shocking absolutely no one, and he and John bonded over being extremely competitive. Even Matt started cracking jokes with him. 

Rectrixx didn’t speak with John much, but that was okay. He could be pretty shy too, same as John. They just needed time.

Droid, though…Droid and John got along like old friends. 

It was a good thing, Smitty told himself. But…Droid got John to laugh so easily, so freely. Smitty had fought a whole battle just to get him to smile. 

And Smitty was glad John was laughing more—elated, even. But there was still something about the way Droid and John interacted that just made Smitty itch.

…Was he jealous?

He took a swig of his drink, ignoring the burn of it—ignoring everything.

They played a few more rounds of Mario Kart, the losers passing off their controllers so new people could play. John always passed when it was his turn, though. Said he’d just get infuriatingly angry. They tried to tell him that that’s the whole point—but he wouldn’t budge.

“I am insufferable when I lose,” he’d said. “None of you wanna see that, trust me. Besides, I am very much enjoying watching you all get exceedingly worse at this the drunker you get. It’s genuinely incredible.”

Smitty lost the next game and passed his controller to Droid. He stood and stretched, feeling dizzy. The alcohol was starting to get to him, just a bit.

“Alright, I’m gonna go start the fire outside before I get too drunk,” Smitty decided. “You guys keep playing, I’ll be back in a sec.”

Matt took the last sip of his drink. “I’ll go with you.”

Smitty nodded and grabbed the shit he needed before heading to his backyard. He stepped out onto the small concrete patio and waited for Matt to follow him before pulling the sliding glass door closed behind them.

They stepped off the concrete and onto the grass, making their way to the shitty rusted fire pit. Smitty added some kindling into the pit, stacking a few logs on top. He clicked his lighter a few times until it sparked to life. He held the lighter to the kindling, waiting for the flame to spread. Him and Matt took their seats in two of the six mismatched foldable chairs that surrounded the pit and watched the red-orange glow grow larger and larger.

It wasn’t until Matt cleared his throat that Smitty realized he’d been tricked. Matt didn’t follow him out here to enjoy the fire, or the quiet—no. He did it to corner Smitty.

For what reason, though—Smitty didn’t know. 

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Smitty said. “What is it?”

“...I told you I’d never question you on John again. I don’t wanna go back on that.”

Smitty sighed. “What’s your deal with him, anyway? Why’d you have to interrogate him the second he got here?

“I was just trying to check something.”

“Check what?”

Matt shrugged. “Wanted to know if that Pezzy guy was his boyfriend or not.”

“...Why?”

Matt wasn’t into John, was he?

Matt worried his lip, scratching his arm. He was being avoidant, despite the fact he was obviously barely holding something back.

Smitty dropped the lighter to the ground, crumpling up some old newspapers and stuffing them between the logs to continue to fuel the fire. “Well clearly you have something to say. So just say it.”

“...I could be imagining it,” Matt muttered, hesitant. “But…like…do you think it's at all possible that John wants you guys to be something more than friends?”

Smitty laughed, but it came out weird—strangled. “Dude, genuinely what the fuck are you talking about?”

Matt stared him down, unimpressed. “He calls you Smit.”

Smitty flushed. “That’s—”

“He’s been sitting directly next to you the whole time he’s been here. And I get that—you’re the person he knows. But he always makes sure his leg is touching yours. And he even gets up with you when you go to get another drink,” Matt stated. “The only reason he didn’t come outside with us was because he was in the middle of a conversation with Droid.”

“...None of that means he’s into me. He doesn’t really go to parties or anything, at least not very often. It’s like you said, I’m who he knows here. He’s just sticking close to me so he doesn’t get overwhelmed or some shit,” Smitty said. “You’re reading too much into it.”

“Okay, yeah—maybe. But what if I’m not?”

“I don’t know? What’s the point you're trying to make here?”

Matt kicked the dirt beneath his feet. “Do you see John as just a friend?”

Oh hell no. Matt didn’t get to do this—not here, not now. He was simultaneously too drunk and not drunk enough for this. The fire crackled, mocking him.

“Oh, so Nogla can’t throw my sexuality into question, but you can?” Smitty asked. He meant for it to be a joke, but his tone came out harsher than he'd expected. “That’s cool.”

“So you do? Just see him as a friend?”

Why wouldn’t Matt stop pushing? What was he hoping to achieve? Did he want Smitty to break down in front of him? Was that it?

Smitty’s brain to mouth filter wasn’t working the way it should be. He spoke before he even knew what he was saying.

“How the hell should I know?!” 

Smitty hadn’t meant to shout. He swallowed. He stared into the fire, not daring to look at Matt. 

“You…aren’t sure?” Matt asked quietly. 

It wasn’t unkind, but Smitty felt his heart drop to his stomach all the same. He blinked a few times in rapid succession. He wouldn’t cry, not over this.

Smitty shook his head, finding his voice. “No.”

Matt scooted his chair closer to Smitty’s before taking Smitty’s hand in his own. They sat like that for a while, Smitty focusing on his breathing as Matt patiently sat with him, never forcing him to talk.

Smitty leaned his head on Matt’s shoulder, needing comfort. “...Fuck.”

Matt laughed softly. “You okay?”

“M’fine. I just…I’ve known since day one that something was different about him, but I never thought…I mean—I did, kinda. But even still, I don’t—ugh, I dunno.”

“Ah, the age old dilemma,” Matt said. “‘Do I have a crush on that guy or is he just really cool?’”

That got Smitty to crack a smile. But it faded as quick as it came.

“How do you tell the difference?” he asked.

He felt Matt shrug, his shoulder pushing against Smitty’s cheek. “It depends. My answers would be different than yours—if you even did like guys. Which, for the record, I do think is possible. But I could definitely be wrong. It’s something you gotta figure out on your own, unfortunately.”

“...Do you think I’m into John?”

“John, I’m not sure. But you remember Peter? From high school?”

Smitty did remember. He lifted his head off of Matt so he could look him in the eye.

“Yeah, why?”

“I kinda got the impression you had a crush on him back in the day. I never said anything because I thought I was just projecting my queerness onto you or something, and I didn’t wanna be like those assholes who insisted you had to be gay because you were friends with me.”

Smitty never thought of Peter as more than a friend, at least—not when they were friends. But looking back on it now, he could sorta see what Matt was talking about. He’d liked it when Peter’s attention was on him, liked when he got to spend time with him, just the two of them. He’d done some pretty dumb shit for Peter’s approval.

“I mean…I guess I wanted to impress him more than my other friends,” Smitty admitted. “But I think that was mostly cus he was the captain of the varsity hockey team.”

“Fair. But you also have that list of NHL players that you would, and I quote, ‘go gay for.’”

Smitty laughed. “That doesn’t prove shit. Tom Wilson could turn any straight man and I stand by that.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Matt agreed. “Like I said, I can’t tell you your sexuality. And I’m not tryna push you to figure it all out tonight or anything. I just…I think there’s a real chance John’s attracted to you. And if you wanna go for that, you should.”

“...You wouldn’t be mad?” Smitty asked, timid.

Matt smiled, confused. “Dude, what? Why would I be mad?”

“You constantly stood up for me, y'know? Telling people they were fucking stupid for saying I was gay or that we were dating, whatever. You’d literally tell them to redirect all their homophobic bullshit to you so at least it’d be ‘accurate.’ And they would. When they decided they wanted to hit something you made sure you had the bigger target painted on your back. You took that all on for me, so I didn’t have to face it,” Smitty said. “But, after all that, I might’ve liked guys this whole time. You had to deal with it alone when you shouldn’t’ve had to.”

Matt sighed, giving Smitty’s hand a squeeze. “Smitty, listen to me. Neither of us deserved to be treated the way we were. I didn’t deserve to get outed by a shitty ex, and you didn’t deserve to deal with the fallout of that happening to me. If I protected you from even a fraction of it, it was fucking worth it to me, okay?” Matt stared into Smitty’s eyes, making sure he understood him. “I’m not gonna lie to you and say none of it ever got to me. But I didn’t face it alone. You were right by my side, no matter what. You were the only reason I even had any friends. I could only see the worst in people, and I was way too hostile toward everyone I met, but you were always just so you.”

Smitty huffed. “What does that even mean?”

“People are drawn to you, man. I get why. You’re this endless source of positivity—it's infectious. No matter what anyone said to you, it always seemed to bounce right off. You’d throw a joke back at them, turning an insult into something playful. For the longest time I didn’t get how you did that, until I started doing it too,” Matt said. “And things got easier, after that. You made it all easier.”

Smitty shook his head, trying to fight off a smile. “C’mon, man…”

“I’m just saying. I’ll fuckin’ love you no matter what, yeah?”

Smitty nodded, trying not to get choked up. Matt meant everything to him, and Smitty felt like he could never do enough to make up for what Matt had done for him. But…hearing all that? Knowing it had always been a two-way street? That made Smitty so fucking happy.

“Yeah,” Smitty said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I love you too, man.”

Matt smirked. “Shit, you’d better!”

Smitty couldn’t contain it all anymore. He crashed into Matt, pulling him in close, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

“I fucking mean it, Matt,” Smitty said, barely louder than a whisper.

Matt wrapped his arms around him, returning the embrace. “I know,” he said, keeping his volume low, same as Smitty. “I mean it too.”

They hug for longer than they probably ever have in all their years of knowing each other, but Smitty didn’t care. He just kept holding on.

Matt didn’t seem to be planning on letting go anytime soon either. Maybe they both needed this. 

They never really talked about the bullying, not if they could avoid it. Hell, they refused to acknowledge it while it was happening. They were both experts in pretending nothing was wrong. But pretending could only get them so far, could only protect them from so much. Eventually they were going to have to admit that they were messed up, a part of them ruined by their past, whether they liked it or not.

And not that all their problems could be solved in one night, but this was certainly a start. This felt like healing.

Neither of them spoke as they broke apart. There was only the silent understanding that they were going to be okay. It was all going to be okay.

Smitty wiped his eyes with his sleeve, sniffling. He took a deep, steadying breath. His heart felt a little lighter as he looked up to the stars.

“...I should go tell the rest of the guys that the fire’s ready,” Smitty said. “See if they wanna join us.”

Matt grabbed Smitty’s shoulder and squeezed, shaking him a bit. There were no words, but Smitty understood him anyway.

He gave Matt a smile, and left.

***

They were all sitting around the fire now, a few more drinks into the night. Smitty was starting to get that lightheaded feeling that came from being on the verge of drunkenness. 

He was better off than most of his friends at least, seeing as he wasn’t as much of a drinker as they were. Droid and Grizzy pounded beers back like they were nothing, but the effects were definitely starting to catch up to them. Puffer had a couple shots of vodka, but was slowing down since he planned on driving home later. Matt and Rectrixx had just about matched Smitty’s pace, but they were slightly further along than he was.

There were only six chairs and seven of them, so Smitty ended up sitting on the arm of John’s chair, his arm slung around the back to keep himself steady. Smitty was sure he was burning hotter than the fire, his whole body reacting to this new closeness. He was practically sitting in his lap, for fucks sake.

He blamed his not so sober self for getting himself into this predicament. When they all realized there weren’t enough seats Smitty had stupidly said he didn’t mind sharing, and John just had to go and offer up his chair for the taking. 

What was he supposed to do, say no?

“Oooooo, yo—that gives me an idea,” Grizzy said. Smitty had been too distracted by how the light of the fire was hitting John’s jawline to know where this train of thought had come from. “We should play Never Have I Ever.”

Puffer frowned. “Didn’t we ban that game, like, years ago?” 

“Wait…yeah, you’re right,” Grizzy realized. “What was the reason for that again?”

The group looked around for answers. No one seemed to have any.

“...I swear there was a good reason for it,” Smitty muttered.

Droid shrugged. “Eh, if we can’t even remember why we banned it in the first place, I say it’s fair game.”

“Fuck it, why not,” Matt said. “What’s the rules? Take a drink and put a finger down every time you have done something?”

“I’m down,” Rectrixx said. “Oh, but John can just put a finger down without drinking so he can play too, if he wants.”

John smirked. “Sure, I’ll play. I win this easily. I don’t do shit.”

Puffer cracked his knuckles. “Oh, don’t say that. I’m about to get fucking annoyingly competitive over a goddamn game of Never Have I Ever.”

“Bring it, bitch,” John said, egging him on.

“Fine. Never have I ever been a professional figure skater.”

John frowned, putting a finger down. “So that’s how it is, is it?” Puffer just shrugged. “Alright. Never have I ever played hockey.”

The whole group groaned, taking a sip of their respective drinks. Now everyone had four fingers up, a level playing field. 

John laughed. “Easiest game of my fucking life, right here. This shit is so free it’s not even funny.”

It was Smitty’s turn next. But he still wasn’t paying much attention to anything other than John. 

It upset him, how little John felt like he’d done in his life. Smitty wondered if John ever felt far away from everyone else because he’d been forced to miss out on so much with everything skating had taken from him. Did John feel like he was too distant—too different— to ever really connect with anyone?

“Uh…fuck, I don’t have anything,” Smitty admitted. “Just skip me.”

Matt grinned. “Fine by me. Never have I ever kissed a girl.”

“Dude, that is such unfair bullshit!” Puffer whined, taking a swig of some seltzer Smitty couldn’t read the label of. 

Everyone else joined him, taking their drinks and putting another finger down. 

“I do not wanna hear it, Puffer. You and John both just heavily targeted each other, I’m allowed to do it too.”

“You really never have?” John asked. “I know you’re gay but that’s still pretty surprising.”

“Oh, dude. I knew I was gay since day fucking one. Just didn’t have the words for it for a while,” Matt said. “Before I met Smitty I was mostly friends with girls, and they all liked boys, so I just kinda assumed everyone liked boys. I eventually realized that wasn’t the case, obviously, but I already figured out that I definitely did. And I never really bothered pretending otherwise. No point in lying to myself, even if I learned to lie to everyone else about it.”

John nodded. “It’s cool you knew, like, instantly. Took me forever to figure my shit out.”

Matt shrugged. “Everyone figures things out at their own pace. I’m not saying I was never confused, y’know? But learning who you are takes time, right? No need to rush it.”

Smitty knew Matt was speaking generally, but he couldn’t help but feel like those words were directed right at him. Matt’s subtle way of letting him know that he had plenty of time.

“That’s definitely fair,” John agreed. “I didn’t mean to derail the game, I was just genuinely curious.”

“I don’t mind,” Matt said. “I don’t really talk about this stuff super often. S’kinda nice.”

John smiled. “Cool.”

“Aight, who’s next?” Matt asked, getting them back on track. “Grizzy?”

“Well, if we’re unfairly targeting…” Grizzy started. “Never have I ever kissed a dude.”

Matt punched him in the arm. “Dick.”

Grizzy just laughed as Matt took his drink. Interestingly, Droid and Rectrixx took drinks too. Smitty assumed it was some college experimentation and thought nothing of it.

John sighed as he put another finger down. “This is literally biphobic.”

Smitty laughed, patting him on the back. “Awwww, someone’s upset that they’re losing!”

John frowned, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I could kiss you right now to make you lose another point. Don’t fuck with me.”

Smitty knew what his reaction should’ve been. John was joking, so Smitty should smile—tell him to fuck off and move on. Distantly, he felt his body doing just that, his own voice sounding a million miles away.

But the more present, conscious part of him wanted to know how John would do it, if he followed through on his empty threat. What he’d taste like.

Smitty drew his gaze away from John’s lips. He was only gonna drive himself crazy. He needed to figure out how he felt about John later— not when he was in a half-drunken stupor.

“Alright, Rectrixx,” Puffer said. “Your turn.”

They played a few more rounds, drinking and laughing and yelling over each other. Droid was the first out, followed quickly by Rectrixx and Matt. Grizzy and Smitty dropped at the same time right after, leaving only John and Puffer, each with one remaining finger. Unfortunately for Puffer, it was John’s turn.

“Damn it, man!” Puffer exclaimed. “Came all this way just to fucking fumble at the very end. Tragic.”

“He could still fuck up,” Droid said. “Unlikely, for sure, but you never know.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Fuck you, John—you don’t know shit about what I’ve done!”

“This is such a shitty way to end it, but I gotta guarantee my victory,” John said. “Never have I ever needed glasses.”

Puffer glared at John, slowly putting his last finger down. He sighed, chugging the rest of his drink and crushing it, tossing it aside. 

“Whatever,” Puffer mumbled. “You win.”

John beamed. “Told ya I would. Should’ve listened.”

Someone’s phone went off, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Shit, sorry—that’s mine,” Rectrixx said, quickly turning off the sound. “I set an alarm so I wouldn’t stay out too late. I got work tomorrow so I gotta get going.”

“Awwww booooo!” Matt whined. 

“You’ll live without me.”

“How you getting home?” Smitty asked.

Rectrixx held up his phone to show that he was ordering an Uber. Good, he was being safe. 

Smitty relaxed. “Alright, man. It was good having you.”

Smitty got up so he could say his goodbyes, and everyone followed suit. They complained he wasn’t staying longer, but they understood. Work was work.

“Okay, I’m just gonna wait inside til my Uber gets here. But it’s been fun,” Rectrixx said. “I’ll see you guys at practice. You too, John.”

“Could I actually talk to you before you leave?” John asked.

Rectrixx blinked at him, confused and a bit weary. “...Sure, yeah.”

John followed Rectrixx inside so they could have some privacy, but they left the door open, so they could easily be overheard. Smitty’s backyard wasn’t that big, and John and Rectrixx hadn’t gone far. Everyone pretended not to be listening, but they very much were.

“Um…Is everything okay?” Rectrixx asked, anxious.

“Yeah, no—it’s all good,” John said. “I was just hoping to apologize.”

“...Apologize? For what?”

“I’m sorry for running into you that day we met. I mean, we sorta bumped into each other, I guess—but you were super nice about it and I acted like a total dick.” Holy shit. Smitty’s never heard John say sorry before. He couldn’t believe John even remembered that. “Sometimes my ego gets the best of me and makes me act like I’m better than everyone else, even though I am definitely not. I should’ve just said sorry when it happened, but since I didn’t—I hope it’s okay that I’m doing it now.”

Rectrixx was quiet for a while, processing. Smitty felt strangely anxious awaiting his reply. He desperately wanted Rectrixx to forgive him. He wanted them to be friends. 

Smitty needed his friends to like John. There was this craving in him that only desired seeing them all get along.

Because if his friends despised John, hated him irrevocably—Smitty knew he’d never talk to John again. It wouldn’t even be a question. 

But it would absolutely destroy him.

“...You know that was no big deal, right?” Rectrixx asked. “I wasn’t, like, mad at you. It was just an accident. And you intimidated me a little, sure—but now that I know you and Smitty are cool I have no problem with you. I hope I wasn’t giving you the impression that I did.”

“No, you weren’t,” John reassured. “But you still deserved an apology, however late it may be, so it was the least I could do.”

“Well…don’t worry about it, man. Seriously. We’re cool.”

“Okay, cool. Thanks for hearing me out.”

“Yeah, anytime.” Rectrixx’s phone chimed. “Oh—my Uber’s here. But, uh—good talking to you man. Hope to see you around more often.”

“See you.” 

Smitty was facing away from the door and couldn’t turn around without making it obvious he was eavesdropping, but he could still hear the smile in John’s voice. He could imagine the way his features softened, his eyes lighting up in that wonderful way they do. 

Smitty’s shoulders relaxed. He heard John’s footsteps approach behind him.

Since there was now a free chair, Smitty had no excuse to share with John anymore. John took Rectrixx’s old seat, and Smitty couldn’t help being disappointed. 

Matt gasped suddenly, snapping his fingers. “I just remembered why we banned Never Have I Ever.”

“Why?” Droid asked.

“Because it always led to us wanting to play Truth or Dare,” Matt explained. “And we banned that because Smitty ended up in the emergency room that one time.”

John shot up, eyes wide in alarm. “What?”

“Waiiiiitttt, that’s right,” Droid said. “Holy shit, how did we forget about that?”

“I mean, we were pretty blasted when it happened,” Smitty said. “And it’s not like I got hurt that bad. Besides, it was years ago now.”

“Okay, what the hell happened?” John asked, appalled. 

Smitty laughed. “So, basically—this was around the time we all first met, freshman year of college. We just found out we were all gonna be on the school’s hockey team, right? None of us knew each other that well, besides me and Matt, so we figured we should celebrate together. Like, uh… ‘a team bonding exercise,’ I think we called it.” 

“Ah, yes,” Puffer interjected. “Because nothing screams team spirit like getting alcohol poisoning together.”

“Let's face it,” Grizzy said. “We were just looking for an excuse to get drunk.”

“Damn right we were!” Matt cheered. 

“Anyway, we’re drinking, and I think we did, like, one round of Never Have I Ever before someone suggested Truth or Dare,” Smitty said, continuing the story. “I can’t remember who—might’ve been me in all honesty. And we were just fucking around outside, and we go over this bridge—and Puffer dared me to jump off it. There was water under it, so it seemed fine. And I was too drunk to consider it might be a bad idea. All I knew was I was dared to do it, so I had to.”

Droid saluted him. “A true man of honor. I gotta respect it.”

Smitty rolled his eyes. “Honor? I think you mean stupidity. Or did you forget how this story ends?”

“Ay, you might’ve gotten hurt, but I’ll be damned if I don’t appreciate the commitment,” Droid said. 

Smitty shook his head, amused. “Sure, man. Whatever you say.”

“Ugh, god—I still remember the way my stomach dropped when you went over the ledge,” Matt said. “I tried to stop your dumbass, but you jumped before Puffer even finished his fucking sentence.”

Smitty rubbed the back of his neck. “...Yeah, I don’t know. Not my brightest moment. Blame the alcohol.”

John leaned forward. “So then what? How’d you wind up in the hospital?”

“The water wasn't even like, more than a couple feet deep. So it already hurt when I landed, but then of course there had to be broken glass at the bottom. I took my fucking shoes off so they wouldn’t get wet, and ended up cutting my foot. Just my luck.”

“...Shit, Smit—that’s fucking crazy,” John said.

Smitty shrugged. “I only needed a couple stitches. Still got the scar from it, though.”

John sighed, settling back in his chair. “Well, I’m glad you were okay.”

“Sucks, though,” Grizzy said. “That night was fun as fuck before that.”

“Yeah, it was,” Smitty agreed. “I’d be so down for Truth or Dare, for the record. Matt’s the one who demanded we never play it again.”

Matt frowned. “And I stand by that.”

“What if we just added a rule?” Smitty suggested. “No dares that could get someone hurt.”

“You actually still want to play Truth or Dare after remembering all that?” John asked, incredulous and maybe a little offended.

Matt huffed. “I don’t!”

“But we’ve got a sober person to watch out for us this time,” Puffer said. “John can be like…a referee.”

“Under no circumstances am I going to agree to that,” John stated.

“What if we promise we’ll be super chill?” Grizzy asked. “No crazy dares. Fuck, I’ll pick truth more if it’ll make you feel better.”

John’s eyes darted around the group, baffled. “Are you guys really not gonna let this go?”

“Guys, relax,” Droid said. “We can’t put this shit on John. Most of us barely know him.”

Puffer shook his head. “Shit, you're right. Never mind, John. We won’t play. It probably wouldn’t end well, anyway.”

The mood darkened slightly. There was a certain disappointment felt around the fire, hanging in the air and catching on the ash.

Smitty never should’ve told that story. He should’ve told John it was nothing, just something that happened a long time ago that didn’t need to get brought up. Talking about it had only upset everyone. It should be a funny story, now that they could look back on it, but it never was. That’s why they always conveniently forgot it ever happened at all.

John tapped his fingers against his thigh, thinking. “You guys banned it for a good reason, I don’t think you should go back on that. But… I’m not banned from playing. You could come up with a truth and a dare for me to do, if you wanted.”

Puffer perked up. “Yoooo, I’m so down for that, actually.”

“How would that work?” Grizzy asked. “We just all have to decide on the same thing for you to do?”

John scratched his cheek. He looked like he was already regretting this.

“Basically, yeah.”

“You don’t have to, John, if you don’t wanna,” Smitty said.

“Nah, it could be fun. But I reserve the right to veto any shit ideas.”

Puffer laughed. “Fair enough.” He turned to address the group. “Alright, what are we thinkin’?”

“Should we start with a truth?” Grizzy asked. “Feel like it’s better to end on a dare.”

“...I’ve got an idea for one,” Matt said.

Smitty gave Matt a look of warning. He better not say anything stupid.

“Let’s hear it,” John said.

“What’s something you’ve been purposefully keeping from Smitty?” 

Smitty hit Matt on the arm, hard. “Matt.”

Smitty heard the clink of a bottle and looked over just in time to catch Droid knocking his drink over. The beer spilled into the grass, staining the soil.

“Shit…” Droid muttered, picking up the bottle.

…What happened there? Was Droid drunker than he realized?

John laughed nervously. “No, it’s fine—they’re supposed to be tough to answer, right?” he asked. “Just gimme a minute to think of something.”

Everyone waited with bated breath while John came up with his answer. Smitty’s heart was beating concerningly fast.

“...Okay, I’ve got it,” John said finally, putting Smitty out of his misery. “You know how you said you googled me after we first met?”

Oh, real nice, John. 

Way to put him on blast in front of all of his friends. Smitty nodded, albeit reluctantly. 

“Well, I never planned on telling you, but…I definitely stalked you on Instagram. I went through every fucking photo, I’m not even kidding. I had to be so careful about it too, to make sure I didn’t accidentally like anything. I felt crazy cus we had only spoken once, so when I found out you kinda did something similar it was honestly a pretty big relief.”

Smitty’s face warmed. There was a part of him that wondered if he should be mad, or maybe even weirded out, but he couldn’t bring himself to be either. If anything—Smitty found the whole thing…incredibly endearing.

Something clicked for Smitty, then. “Is that how you knew everyone’s names so quickly?”

John shrugged, looking away. “I mean…partially.”

Puffer tsked. “Man, that’s nothing. Everyone stalks everyone on social media. That’s what it’s there for.”

“I thought of something else, if you guys don’t think that was a big enough truth,” John said. “But I’d have to only tell Smitty. Whether or not he tells you guys would be up to him.”

“Well, damn. Now I’m curious,” Grizzy said. “You’d better fucking tell us, Smitty.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He probably wasn’t going to tell them.

John stood and slowly walked toward Smitty. He bent at the waist, cupping a hand over his mouth to protect the secret from spilling out beyond the two of them. John’s breath tickled his ear, and he was already falling apart before John had said a word.

And then John decided to ruin him.

“You are so fucking hot.”

Smitty laughed—if only because his body wasn’t sure how else to react. He playfully shoved John away from him, purposefully putting some distance between them. His mind couldn’t even begin to process that. 

John smirked down at him—like he was fucking proud of himself. Smitty might be going insane.

“...What’d he say?” Droid asked.

Smitty waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing. He was just fucking with me. He didn’t actually tell me a secret.”

John tilted his head, that infuriating smirk never leaving his lips. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

Fuck. Smitty really couldn’t think about if John had meant it right now. 

Sober Smitty was gonna have a lot of shit to work out tomorrow.

John moved back to his seat, leaving Smitty’s side. “Alright, I’m ready for my dare.”

I dare you to kiss me.

No. Not that. Definitely not that.

“...How committed are you to the whole no drinking thing?” Grizzy asked.

John made a face. “Yeah, no. Veto. I’ve got nothing against it, but I’ve never had any alcohol ever and just really don’t plan to.”

Grizzy nodded. “Extremely fair.”

“What if you just…pretended to be drinking?” Puffer asked. John tilted his head, confused. “Like, prank call someone and tell them you’re trashed and they need to come get you.”

John hummed. “I could do that. But there’s really only one person I could call and there’s no way he’d ever believe it. I can try, but he’s always been able to see right through my bullshit.”

“If you’re able to convince him I’ll give you twenty bucks,” Puffer said. “Add some stakes.”

“...I already regret telling you I’m competitive.”

Puffer laughed. “So? We on?”

“Sure. A dare’s a dare.” 

John pulled out his phone and clicked a few buttons before the line started ringing. John’s leg bounced up and down as he waited for the call to be answered.

“Hey!” the voice on the other line exclaimed. “Are you still at Smitty’s?”

Pezzy, Smitty realized. He was listening to John’s closest friend.

“Yeahhhhh,” John started, purposely dragging the word. “About that—I might need you to come get me.”

“...Why?” Pezzy already sounded suspicious. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh—everything is amazing!” John giggled, trying to sell it. “I just don’t think I should drive like this.”

“Drive like what? Cus I know your ass isn’t drunk.”

“Only a little! Or, alot, depending on who you ask.”

“...Okay, what is this? You’re not gonna trick me, dude. You’d never drink, not even if your new boyfriend asked you to.”

John put his head in his free hand, dragging it down his face. Was…was Pezzy referencing Smitty?  

“You are actually the worst,” John said, fully dropping the act. “I had twenty dollars riding on this, you know.”

Pezzy laughed. “But you had to know I’d never believe you.”

John sighed. “Whatever. It was worth a shot,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later, alright man?”

“Sure. Don’t let those hockey boys trick you into doing anything else stupid like this, yeah? No matter how cute they are.”

“I’m hanging up now!”

Pezzy’s uproarious cackle got cut off halfway through as John ended the call.

John rolled his eyes. “Ignore him. He has a thing for hockey players.”

“Does his boyfriend play hockey?” Smitty asked. 

John looked alarmed by the question. Smitty thought it was a pretty simple thing to answer.

“Um…I think so, yeah.”

Huh. Maybe John just didn’t know Pezzy’s boyfriend very well so he had trouble answering questions about him. Smitty’d assumed the three of them were all really close, but he could’ve been wrong.

“You were right, he didn’t buy that shit for a second,” Puffer said. “And your acting wasn’t half bad, either.”

John smiled. “He just knows me too well at this point. I can’t get anything by him, I swear.”

Smitty suddenly wished Pezzy was here. John would have someone else he knew at the party, and Smitty would get to meet him along with the rest of his friends. It’d be nice to talk to this person who knew John so well, who could tell Smitty stories about him. 

Smitty wanted them all to make new stories together, too. Him, John, Pezzy—Pezzy’s boyfriend, even. But Smitty didn’t know if John would ever let him close enough to see that side of his life. 

John still always seemed just out of reach. Smitty ran and ran, but no matter how fast he was—no matter how much he pushed—he could never catch up to him. The distance was too great, too vast.

But he’d keep running. For John. Even when his lungs burned and his legs ached and his heart felt like it might explode out of his chest—he wouldn’t stop.

He just fucking wouldn’t.

***

Smitty eventually decided to head inside to make some food for everyone. Puffer, Matt, and Grizzy had followed him in, but Droid and John made no move to leave their chairs.

“You guys coming?” Smitty asked.

“I think we’re good to chill out here for a bit,” Droid said. 

Smitty looked over at John. John smiled, letting him know he was fine right where he was. With Droid.

Smitty almost went to sit back down, as crazy as that was. He didn’t know why leaving the two of them alone together bothered him so much.

Well, he could guess. But he was trying not to think about that right now.

He’d already stood, lingering by the door, so he had no excuse for staying out here with them.

“You need a drink or anything, Droid?” Smitty asked, only a tiny bit desperate.

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks man.”

Smitty nodded. His throat felt too tight to speak. He turned away, closing the sliding glass door behind him. He left it open just a crack in case either of them needed to shout to anybody in the house. No one would be able to hear them from the kitchen unless they yelled, so they’d still have some privacy.

Smitty threw in two frozen pizzas and let his friends raid his snacks. Matt and Grizzy started up a drinking game. Smitty had no idea what the rules were. There probably weren’t any.

Once the food was ready, Smitty got everyone plates and let them help themselves. They moved to the living room to eat, turning the TV on for background noise. Every once in a while Smitty would catch himself glancing over to the door leading to his backyard. 

He’d brought a slice of pizza out for Droid but they still seemingly had no plans to head inside. What the hell were they even talking about for this long?

Smitty took everyone’s plates to put them in the sink. He made a lazy attempt to rinse them off before just accepting he was gonna have to wash them later. He turned off the water and was about to make his way back to the living room when he heard it.

“That was so fucking dumb of you, by the way.” It was Droid. He and John must’ve moved from their spot beside the fire. Maybe it got too hot, or maybe they just thought Smitty’s crumbling concrete porch would be a nice place to sit. Either way, now Smitty could hear them. He knew he shouldn’t listen in, but he froze. It felt impossible to move. “I can’t believe you called Pezzy and put him on speaker. Everyone could hear him. You are so goddamn lucky he didn’t accidentally say anything.”

John laughed but it was strained—apologetic, almost. “Pezzy’s smart. He knew I was going to be here. He wasn’t gonna say shit knowing your friends were around.”

…What the hell? Smitty swallowed, staring down at the dirty dishes. He gripped the edge of the counter, feeling dizzy.

Droid sighed, heavy and tired. He seemed so weighed down.

“...Are you ever planning on telling them?” John asked, voice quiet—more serious.

Droid laughed, but it rang hollow. “Which bit do you think I should lead with? The part where I’ve known you this whole time and we've been lying right to their faces or the part about how I’ve had a boyfriend for over two fucking years and never told them?”

Smitty forced himself to walk away after that. He couldn’t stand to hear any more, really.

It was too much to process, too much information all at once. Droid and John had been lying to him—to all of them. Droid knew John, probably well before Smitty ever even met him. And he had a boyfriend, too? Smitty thought he was straight.

Two fucking years.

Guilt gnawed at his bones as he realized he just took away Droid’s chance to come out to him on his own terms. All because he wanted to eavesdrop. 

So many unexplainable things were finally slotting into place. Smitty’s mind started going a mile a minute. That’s why John recognized Smitty’s name the day they met. Droid must’ve told John about him before. He probably talked about all his friends. That’s the real reason John knew them all so quickly.

Droid had always been so quick to jump to John’s defense. Him and John acted weird around each other because they were pretending they were strangers when they weren’t.

The D in John’s phone. It was Droid.

Smitty was going to be sick.

Chapter Text

Smitty felt entirely disconnected from his body.

He was aware of it, vaguely. But everything was running on autopilot. He had no real control.

He knew he laughed when he was supposed to, knew he kept making his friends laugh too. But the words were all so distant, he didn’t even really comprehend what was being said.

The alcohol wasn’t helping. Grizzy poured him a shot, but Smitty already felt so nauseous he couldn’t stomach it. Grizzy drank it instead, and Smitty switched to water. He didn’t want to be drunk anymore.

He couldn’t stop thinking about John and Droid. Their conversation played on loop in his head. He couldn’t get it out.

Now that he knew, it seemed so terribly obvious. It was in the way Droid casually slung an arm around John's shoulder and John didn’t so much as flinch, or the way John had a different laugh seemingly reserved just for Droid. The way they looked away from each other when they thought anyone had been staring at them for too long.

Liars.

Smitty was angry—but at the same time he felt like he had no right to be. It wasn’t like they were hiding something malicious, Droid just hadn’t figured out how to tell them about his relationship.

But why did he feel like he couldn’t tell them? Matt had been out forever and no one had an issue with him. 

Or maybe it wasn’t the coming out that was the hard part. Maybe Droid just didn’t want them to meet his boyfriend for fear of how they’d react.

And—speaking of his boyfriend—who was he?

The obvious answer was Pezzy. It made the most sense. Except for the fact that none of this made any fucking sense.

Smitty had this horrible sinking feeling that Droid’s boyfriend could be John.

Smitty and John never really talked about their respective love lives. Smitty’d always assumed John must be single because he was horribly unapproachable and purposefully distant, which was maybe a bit rude on his part. He knew the real John was beneath it all, and if someone was willing to look for it—they’d be undeniably enchanted.

It’d make sense why they were so desperate to hide how they knew each other, if they were together and Droid didn’t want anyone to know. It’d make sense if Pezzy was his boyfriend too, but Smitty felt like he couldn’t rule out one option over the other.

When John called Pezzy earlier—Pezzy mentioned John’s “new boyfriend.” Smitty thought he was talking about him, but what if Pezzy meant Droid?

A two year relationship hardly seemed new, but maybe Pezzy had been with his boyfriend for fucking forever so anything less than that seemed relatively recent.

It wasn’t completely logical, Smitty knew. But he wasn’t exactly feeling super logical right now.

Eli and Yumi dropped by for a bit to meet John, and Smitty had a fleeting memory of introducing them—but he blinked and they were gone. One second he was setting up a game of beer pong for Matt and Grizzy, and the next Matt had won. He kept missing out on what was happening right in front of him because he felt like he was somewhere else entirely.

“...mitty? Smitty!”  

Oh, right—that was his name. Someone needed something. Smitty turned toward the voice. It was Puffer.

“Dude, are you good?” Puffer asked. “I just called for you like—at least ten times.”

That had to be an exaggeration. “That has to be an exaggeration.”

Puffer rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. I was just tryna tell you I’m headed out. Grizzy’s already passed out on the recliner and I am not gonna wake his cranky ass, so you mind if he crashes here? I can come back in the morning to pick him up.”

Smitty nodded, catching up to the present. They stood by the entryway as Puffer slid on his coat. He was looking right at Puffer, but he couldn’t make anything out, like his eyes had completely glazed over. Maybe he should go lie down.

“That's fine. You sure you’re good to drive?”

“Yeah, promise. I stopped drinking a while ago.”

“Sounds good.” Smitty pulled him in for a quick hug, going through the motions. “I’ll see you later.”

Puffer was probably looking at him funny, if the long pause was anything to go by. But Smitty still couldn’t focus on anything for long enough to bring it out from the abstract. Puffer was only a blur.

“...Seriously, what’s wrong?” 

Puffer was whispering, but it still felt too loud. Didn’t he know how small this house was? Why could no one else understand that their secrets weren’t safe here?

Why could no one else notice the walls closing in?

“You always gotta make something outta nothing,” Smitty teased, hoping he sounded playful rather than accusatory. “I’m all good.”

“Was it John? Did he do something?”

Why don’t you ask Droid?

“Go home, Puffer.”

“What did he do, Smitty?”

He wasn’t whispering anymore. Someone was going to hear. Why couldn’t he just be fucking quiet?

“Nothing,” Smitty insisted. “Christ, why are you all so eager for him to be the bad guy?”

“Because something about being around him is fucking draining you!”

Smitty grabbed Puffer’s arm and yanked him outside. He tried to close the door softly behind them, not wanting to give away that something was wrong.

But it was all wrong.

“Keep your voice down,” Smitty chastised. “He is not draining me.”

“Really? Then why do you always seem so goddamn exhausted lately?”

Smitty scoffed. “Maybe I’m tired of you.”

“What’s the real reason he made you play like shit? Why haven’t you been able to look him in the eye for the past three hours?”

…It’d been three hours? What time was it?

“Let it go, man.”

“But he’s upsetting you! I don’t know why but he is. Don’t try and tell me he’s not.”

“Puffer, please.” Smitty was out of options. He had to beg. “Please just go home.”

Puffer shook his head. “I’m not gonna let him keep hurting you.”

“He’s not!” Smitty exclaimed. “You’re just insisting on only looking at the bad! But you know how happy he’s been making me, you’ve heard how I’ve talked about him!”

“Then why can’t you answer my questions? If it’s no big deal then why won’t you fucking tell me?”

Smitty was only catching on to it now, but tensions between him and Puffer had been brewing ever since that day Puffer kicked him off the ice. He never fully got over that, and it was clear Puffer felt like Smitty was holding too much back. He told Smitty he didn’t have to share anything he didn’t want to, but when that got thrown back in his face it seemed he regretted having ever said it at all.

And even though everyone said they were fine with Smitty being friends with John—Puffer had still made Smitty drive himself to their game with The Misfits. Which meant even though he said he wasn’t upset, he still very much was, at least on some level. Puffer likely hadn’t even realized it himself—same as Smitty—but they’d been dancing around each other for a while, now.

“Because I don’t have to! Because it’s none of your business!” Smitty snapped. “You can’t keep demanding I tell you everything when you said it was fine if I didn’t!”

“I know.” Puffer sighed. “I know. Fuck. I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t wanna fight. I just don’t trust him.”

“But I do. Isn’t that enough?” Smitty asked. “I don’t need you to trust him. I just need you to trust me.”

Smitty was so over defending John to his friends. Especially now. Puffer had acted completely cool with John the whole night but the second Smitty was a little off that all went out the window.

He knew his friends just cared too much for their own good, but it sucked feeling like none of them thought he was capable of making his own decisions. Or, more accurately, that he wasn’t capable of making smart decisions.

“...I do trust you, Smitty. I shouldn’t’ve pushed like that. John does seem alright. I’m leaping to conclusions on something I know nothing about. I…I only wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Smitty took a deep breath through his nose. “I know. I’ll be okay, I swear. And what’s going on with me isn’t John’s fault.” Well, not entirely, anyway. It wasn’t John’s fault Smitty couldn’t keep his feelings in check. “So please don't blame him.”

Puffer gave him a weak nod. “Okay. I won’t. As long as you aren’t blaming yourself.”

Smitty couldn’t help but smile. Puffer knew him way too well.

“I’ll try my best.”

Puffer shrugged. “That’s all I would ever ask for.”

The world started slowly coming back into focus, then. Puffer became a little clearer, easier to read. Easier to understand.

“I’m not gonna bother you about this anymore. I get the sense I’ve only been making it worse,” Puffer said. “But I want you to know I’m always here for you—all of us are. If you do wanna talk about it—no one would turn you away. Or if you don’t wanna talk, but you want people around. You can always count on us. I’d be there in a fucking second.”

Smitty laughed. His chest still felt too tight, but the pain was lessening.

“Same to you,” Smitty said. “I appreciate it, Puffer. Really.”

Puffer smiled back at him. There was a nice moment of quiet between them. It felt like peace. Something had finally settled.

“Aight, I’ll get outta your hair,” Puffer said eventually. “Those drunk idiots probably need you in there.”

“Heh, yeah—probably,” Smitty agreed. “Get back safe.”

“Will do. Take care, man.”

Another quick hug, and Puffer was off. Smitty waited until he pulled out of the driveway and started down the street before heading back inside.

His mind still felt hazy, lost in a fog. But fighting with Puffer had weirdly eased it. He got some aggression out and still fixed things with him, even though he hadn’t realized til then that they were even broken.

One problem solved, a million more to go.

***

Things started winding down, after that. Smitty still didn’t feel totally calm, he doubted he would for a while, but at least the rest of the night seemed like it was going to be uneventful.

Droid crashed shortly after Grizzy, lightly snoring from the couch. Smitty was sitting with Matt and John, with him and John trying to convince Matt to go to sleep.

“I’m not even tiredddd,” Matt whined.

Matt was lying down on the opposite side of the couch from Droid, his eyes completely closed.

“Not tired, my ass,” Smitty said. “Hand me the beer, Matt—you’re just gonna spill it.”

Matt clutched his beer tighter to his chest. “If I go to sleep, who's gonna watch out for you?”

Smitty sighed. “I’m plenty capable of looking out for myself.”

Matt opened his eyes to meet Smitty’s. “Of course you are. But I don’t like the idea of leaving you all alone.”

Smitty smiled. Drunk Matt was rowdy. Tired Matt was just overly compassionate.

“I’m not gonna be alone. John’s here.”

John waved, but Matt frowned at him.

“That’s what I mean. You know what I mean.”

…Oh. Matt didn’t want to leave Smitty alone with John. That tracked.

Given their earlier conversation, Matt knew Smitty still had a lot to work out regarding all things John. And Smitty had way more shit to deal with now that Matt didn’t even know about. But that was exactly why Smitty needed to be alone with him. They really needed to talk.

Smitty gently pried the bottle from Matt’s hand, setting it on the coffee table. John replaced it with a water, which Matt chugged thoughtlessly.

“I’m fine, Matt. John doesn’t bite.”

John shrugged. “I mean, not if you don’t want me to. But if you asked nicely—”

Smitty shot him a look, glaring. John stopped talking.

“...I’m gonna go refill this water for ya, Matt,” John said, already moving away from Smitty’s scathing stare.

Matt sat up, but only enough to place a hand on Smitty’s chest, right over his heart. “Protect this,” he muttered. “Don’t let him break anything.”

Smitty patted the hand on his chest with one of his own. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I care about you so much that sometimes it feels like I’m going to explode.”

Smitty laughed. “Go to bed, Matt.”

John returned with the water, handing it over to Matt.

“Not until you tell John he’ll never be as important to you as I am.”

Smitty rolled his eyes, glancing up at John. “Matt wants me to tell you that you’ll never be as important to me as he is.” He turned back to face Matt. “There—are we good?”

Matt laid back down and shifted his position a few times, getting comfortable. He hummed contentedly when he found the perfect spot.

“I knew I was your favorite,” Matt mumbled, sleep finally overtaking him. “I can’t wait to be the best man at your wedding.”

Smitty flushed. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Matt meant Smitty and John’s wedding. Luckily for him, John didn’t have the context to put that particular puzzle together.

“That’s a weird thing to bring up,” John said. “You got a secret fiancé or something I don’t know about, Smit?”

Like John had any right to talk to Smitty about secrets.

Smitty shook his head. “He just gets sappy when he’s drunk. We agreed we’d be each other’s best man when we were, like, fourteen.”

John smiled. It was so soft, so genuine. 

“That’s really sweet.”

“It would be—if either of us ever actually end up getting married.”

“You don’t think you will?”

Smitty cast a glance in Matt’s direction. He could still be awake. Smitty didn’t wanna talk about how Matt struggled to take any relationship seriously, nor did he feel the need to mention that he took every relationship too seriously.

“Dunno. Doesn’t matter,” Smitty said. “I’m gonna go grab a trash can for them in case they get sick. I’ll be right back.”

Smitty took off toward the bathroom, deliberately running from their current conversation. He decided to quickly brush his teeth while he was thinking about it so he didn’t forget later. After he rinsed, he grabbed the bin sitting by the toilet and made his way back to the living room. 

John wasn’t there. It only took a second for Smitty to look over and find him standing in the kitchen, hunched over the sink. Did he just need to wash his hands?

Smitty set the trash can in front of Droid since he’d ended up drinking the most before joining John in the kitchen. 

John wasn’t washing his hands. He was doing the dishes.

“Oh—John, I can do that later,” Smitty said. “You don’t gotta worry about it.”

John didn’t stop. “No, it’s alright. I owe you.”

“Owe me? For what?”

“Think of it as thanks for inviting me over,” John said. “And for letting me meet all your friends.”

Not all of them. John already knew one.

“I wanted to introduce you to them—that’s not something you need to thank me for.”

John shrugged. “You know me well enough by now to know I’m gonna do it anyway.”

Smitty laughed. “Fair enough. At least let me help?”

They worked in silence for a while, John cleaning the dishes and Smitty drying them. It was weirdly…domestic? They fell into this little routine so easily, with little need for words, and Smitty couldn’t get over how simple it all seemed. How right it felt.

Smitty dreaded that, eventually, he was going to have to ruin this. But for now, he was just drying dishes. One thing at a time.

“…I can’t help but feel like I screwed things up with your friends,” John admitted softly. 

“What? Are you kidding?” Smitty asked. “You got along with them so well—way better than I expected, to be honest.”

“Rectrixx barely talked to me. And Matt just made you declare how much more important he was to you than I am—or ever would be—so I definitely feel like something’s up with that,” John said. “And Puffer…well, he was nice enough to my face, at least. But, uh…he obviously doesn’t think I’m good for you.”

He’d heard. Of course he heard. 

Goddamn it, Puffer. 

“Rectrixx is just shy, but he’s warming up to you, trust me. I appreciate you apologizing to him, by the way. That meant a lot to me. I’m certain it did for him, too,” Smitty stated. “And once you learn to ignore half the shit that comes outta Matt’s mouth, your life will get a hell of a lot easier. He says whatever’s on his mind at any given moment, and only ever means about 10% of it—5%, if he’s been drinking.”

“…But, Puffer?”

Smitty sighed. “Puffer was more frustrated with me than anything else. He doesn’t like leaving things alone, is all. And it’s been eating at him, since I haven’t been able to tell him what’s wrong.”

John stiffened. “Something’s wrong?”

Shit. Well, he knew he was going to have to get this over with eventually. Better now than never. 

“I need to ask you something.”

John set the plate he was rinsing back down in the sink. He shut off the water and turned to give Smitty his full attention. 

But Smitty couldn’t meet his gaze. He stared down at the white ceramic plate in his hands. He wondered if those scratches across its surface were new, or if they’d been there for so long that Smitty got used to ignoring them. 

He really couldn’t keep ignoring everything, anymore. 

Smitty took a deep breath. “…Are you dating Droid?”

John laughed, like the idea of it was truly ridiculous, and entirely impossible. “What? Of course not,” he said. “I only just met him today. Don’t tell me you think I’m that easy, Smit.”

Smitty wished John wouldn’t lie to him. He wished he didn’t have to lie to him. 

“I heard you talking to him outside. I didn’t mean to—but I did. So I know he knows you, and I know he’s seeing somebody.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Smitty could see John bracing his weight against the counter’s edge, going deathly pale. 

“…I’m not dating Droid,” John muttered. 

He was being honest, Smitty could tell. Relief mixed with anxiety mixed with dread mixed with anger, too many emotions swirling in the pit of his stomach. 

Smitty steeled himself. “He’s dating Pezzy.”

It wasn’t a question. John didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. They both already knew he was right. 

Smitty ran a hand through his hair, tugging the strands at the ends. Everything in him fucking hurt.

“Smitty—”

“No—don’t.” Smitty had no idea what John was going to say, but he knew he couldn’t bear to hear it. “Please, just don’t. I can’t—” He pressed his palms over his eyes, collecting himself. “Fucking hell.”

He cast a wayward glance over to the living room, where Droid was sleeping soundly. He looked so calm, so content. It made Smitty’s blood boil. He wanted to march over there and shake him awake, scream at him to explain it all—to make it make some semblance of sense. 

But he couldn’t—he wouldn’t. Because a part of him understood.

Smitty couldn’t tell Puffer the truth about John. He couldn’t tell anyone. He still hadn’t admitted certain things to himself—let alone anyone else.

Droid couldn’t tell the truth about Pezzy.

And it was different, yes—but wasn’t it the same, too? 

“I wanted to tell you,” John tried. “Fuck, I almost did a few times. I hated keeping anything from you. I thought maybe at least we could come up with some other reason for how I knew Droid, but it would just be another lie, and—”

“You couldn’t tell me how you knew Droid without outing him,” Smitty said. “I’m not mad at you for that. You were just protecting him. You were being a good friend.”

The word friend felt funny on his tongue. But that’s what they were to each other.

It was some cruel joke, Smitty thought. A monkey’s paw. He’d wanted his friends to get along with John so badly, and he got his wish. Droid and John were great friends.

“...Are you mad at Droid?”

“No,” Smitty replied instantly. Then, more honestly, “Yes. I don’t know. He’s made it impossible for me to be mad at him—at either of you. Which only makes me fucking angrier.”

No one had been able to leave Smitty alone about John when he only knew him for a little over two weeks, but Droid’s been dating Pezzy for two goddamn years and nothing. No one ever presses him for anything, and Smitty’d been getting interrogated all fucking month.

“You have every right to be mad at us. We still lied. Whether or not it was ‘justified’ doesn’t matter. It still hurt you.”

“...I just wish he trusted us enough to tell us. Did we make him feel like he couldn’t? Did he think—I mean, I know we say some stupid shit sometimes—myself included. But did he really think we wouldn’t be okay with it?”

John sighed, sympathetic. “I can’t speak for him. But he loves you guys so fucking much. I know you know that—I know you love him too. But this?” He gestured vaguely at himself, at the air—at the elephant in the room. “Sometimes it feels impossible to talk about. Even if you know the people you care about would support you no matter what.”

Smitty’s reminded of when Matt came out to him, all those years ago. Before he got outed, before the ex who shall not be named—before Matt had told anyone else. He wanted to tell Smitty.

But he remembered how nervous he was—how fucking terrified he had been. Smitty could still hear the tremble in his voice, could still picture his shaking hands.

Matt was never scared. Not of anything. But he was scared then.

And they were only fourteen, and Smitty had no idea how to have an emotionally mature conversation—so he just said he didn’t care who Matt wanted to be with, so long as he got to be the best man at the wedding.

He thought of his own fear, too. How this new… something scared him so much he didn’t know what to do with it. How it came with so many feelings that felt too big to keep stuffed in that box he buried in the back of his mind. How now that the box had been opened, he could never close it.

John was right. It felt impossible to talk about.

“...But he wanted to?” Smitty asked, voice strained. He finally met John’s eyes. “He wanted to tell us?”

John’s face ran through so many emotions that Smitty couldn’t discern how he really felt. But he never steeled his expression back to something neutral, never hid his feelings away. Not this time. 

“Of course he did.”

Smitty crossed his arms over his chest, folding in on himself. “He’ll never get to tell me.”

“Smit…”

Smitty shook his head. “Can we talk about something else? Please?”

“But—”

“I’ll talk to Droid in the morning. We’ll figure it out. We always do,” Smitty declared. “I just really need to think about literally anything else right now.”

John’s features softened. “...Okay, sure. We can finish these dishes too.” He turned the water back on, continuing his work. Smitty gave him a weak smile, grateful for the distraction. “What do you wanna talk about?”

It wasn’t like Smitty had a topic prepared, which was probably why he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Are you dating someone?”

“...What?”

“I just realized I never asked. We’ve never really talked about relationships or anything, so I was just curious.”

John smirked. “Come on—surely the answer is obvious. You know how I am. Who in their right mind would ever wanna be with me?” he asked. “Besides, when would I even have the time?”

Pezzy and Droid found the time.

“You know anyone would be lucky to have you, right?” John scoffed, but Smitty pressed on. “I’m serious! I know you’re convinced you’re some irredeemable asshole, or that you can only ever be Kryoz and nothing more—but you are…” everything. “You’re so much more than you realize. You’re kind, and you’re funny in that direct way that always catches me off-guard, and you’re always looking out for everyone even if you’d rather die than admit it. I don’t care if you think skating is all you are—it’s not. It never has been. You’re a whole person. You’re real.” 

Smitty hadn’t meant to say all that. He didn’t even fully process it until he realized John stopped moving, his soapy hands dripping suds down the side of the bowl he was holding.

“Um…sorry, I—”

“Careful, Smit,” John interrupted. “I might start thinking I have a chance.”

Smitty scoffed, allowing John to make a joke of this whole thing. It was the one time he was actually appreciative of John’s inability to talk about anything serious for too long.

“Whatever, dude,” Smitty said, letting the moment pass.

“...And you?”

Smitty blinked, confused. “And I what?”

“Are you dating anybody?”

Smitty laughed. “Who would I even be dating?”

John shrugged, passing the now clean bowl over to Smitty for him to dry, their hands brushing against each other. “You and Matt seem close.”

Smitty balked. “Matt? You think…” he paused to keep laughing. “You think I’m dating Matt?”

“Not really,” John admitted. “But, I mean—you’ve never even thought about it?”

…Was Smitty crazy or did John sound jealous?

There was a lot to unpack there, and Smitty was clueless as to where he should even start. It was weird for John to bring up Matt specifically, since John knew from their game of Never Have I Ever that Smitty hadn't so much as kissed a guy before. So he had to know they weren’t anything more than friends. 

But he didn’t think they were dating. He was asking Smitty if he’d thought about it.

“Dude, no. Matt’s a great guy, and I love his dumbass, but not like that. We’ve just been through everything together, so we’re basically inseparable—and, admittedly, maybe a bit overprotective of each other. But I’ve never thought of him as anything other than my best friend, and I’m not even—” He was about to explain that he wasn’t gay, or that he wasn’t attracted to guys, but his earlier conversation with Matt stuck to his insides like glue and the words eluded him. “...It’s just not like that.”

John hummed in acknowledgment, nodding. Smitty swore John was suppressing a smile, but maybe he was only imagining it. Wishful thinking and all that.

“So you’re not dating anybody,” John said. “Do you want to be?”

Smitty felt a blush creeping up the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Maybe. Do you?”

John smirked. “Only if it’s you.”

Smitty huffed, knocking his shoulder against John’s. John really needed to stop saying shit like that. Couldn’t he tell what he was doing to him? 

…Or was that the whole point? John teased and played and kept everything light, but that didn’t mean the things he said weren’t real.

His brain pushed a memory to the forefront of his mind, forcing him to relive it. It was when he tripped into John’s arms, and John made that stupid joke about Smitty falling for him—and he’d said…

He’d said, “Relax, I’m just fucking with you.”

Who was Smitty kidding? Of course it wasn’t real.

To John, this was all just some game.

John’s phone buzzed in his pocket, startling Smitty out of his oncoming spiral. “Fuck,” he said, staring helplessly at his soap covered hands. “Can you see who that is?”

Smitty grabbed the phone, carefully not to touch anywhere he shouldn’t. He read the name at the top of the screen and a stinging feeling thrummed through his whole body. 

“Jess is calling you.”

“Fuck,” John repeated. “She shouldn’t be calling this late—I texted her telling her I was staying with Pezzy.”

“...Do you want me to—”

“Answer it. Can you hold it up to my ear for me? Just for a sec?” John was already rinsing off his hands, reaching for a towel to dry them.

“I can just put it on speaker.” John shot him a pleading glance. “No—right, yeah. I’ll hold it up for you.”

He answered the call and put it up to John’s ear.

“Hey, Jess,” John started. “You better have a good reason for waking me up. It’s almost four in the morning.”

Holy fuck, was it actually?

Smitty couldn’t make any of the words out, but he could faintly hear Jess on the other line. His anxiety spiked as he carefully watched John’s expressions.

“I told you where I was.” Smitty thought he heard Jess say something like, ‘I want you to tell me again.’ John took the phone from Smitty and started pacing. “I’m at the hotel Pezzy’s been staying in.” Another pause. “The name? I don’t know—I think it's a Hilton?”

Smitty worried his lip. It almost seemed like Jess knew he was lying.

Please don’t let Jess know he’s lying.

John froze dead in his tracks, eyes wide and horrified. He went as white as a sheet. Smitty’s stomach dropped.

“What do you mean you’re outside?”

***

Yup, Jess was outside, alright.

She was leaning against a car Smitty didn’t recognize, parked on the street just beside John’s rental. Smitty’d only ever seen her once before, in a video. She was much more daunting in person.

Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a bun so tight Smitty wondered if it was giving her a headache. And who the hell wore a pantsuit at four in the morning? She seemed to be all business, all the time.

She tapped away on her phone, looking bored. Smitty almost laughed at how similar her expression was to John’s usual one. That must be where he got it from.

John rushed down the steps to meet her. Smitty couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him alone, so he followed. John never told him not to, though he probably would’ve preferred he didn’t.

“Come on, let’s go,” Jess said, her eyes never leaving her screen. “I’ll come back for your rental later, but it’s clear I can’t let you drive off on your own any more.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” John asked, incredulous. “You tracked my phone? I can’t believe you!”

Jess slowly looked up from her phone. Her stare was so piercing Smitty was surprised it didn’t draw blood.

“Considering you just lied to me multiple times I don’t think you have any room to talk.” Jess turned her glare on Smitty. Smitty wanted to crawl out of his skin. “You could’ve just told me you were with a boy. Maybe we could’ve avoided this whole thing.”

“I don’t have to tell you where I am at every given moment!” John exclaimed.

Jess sighed. “John, I’m tired. Can’t we do this later?”

“No! We can’t!” John was barely managing to maintain some composure. “You don’t just get to invade my privacy and act like you did nothing wrong.”

“Fine. You want to know why I tracked your phone?” Jess asked. “I was perfectly okay with you staying the night with Pezzy, you know I have no issue with you seeing him. But I couldn’t sleep—you know how I get—and I was just checking your location to make sure the two of you got back alright. When I saw you were nowhere near a hotel, I started to worry. Or, what—am I not allowed to worry about you anymore?”

John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Worried. Right.”

“Can we finally get going now or would you like to continue fighting with me in front of this literal stranger?”

“Smitty is not—” John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He seemed to think better of finishing that sentence. Smitty wasn’t sure why until Jess narrowed her eyes at him, like she was truly seeing him for the first time. If he wasn’t a stranger, then who was he? What did he mean to John? Why had he lied to Jess to go and be with him? What was he keeping from her? Smitty never wanted her to find out the answers. “...You actually just expect me to leave with you, don’t you?” 

Jess’s eyes flickered with genuine shock before she quickly stamped it out—replacing it with a scowl instead, hiding her true emotions. The same way John did.

They really are a lot alike. 

“Don’t answer that. Of course you do. I’ve never given you a reason to believe otherwise. But, you know what, Jess?” John asked. “Not this time. I am so fucking sick of doing whatever you want me to do, whenever you want me to do it. I’m not leaving.”

It should’ve been a moment of triumph, something to celebrate. John stood up for himself against Jess, maybe for the first time in his whole life. But Smitty could tell John just felt miserable.

“John,” Jess said carefully, her voice a warning. “Get in the car.”

Smitty looked between the two of them, his heart a frantic mess. He wanted to yank John away from her, pull him inside where she couldn’t follow—but he knew this was something John had to choose. He had to be the one to walk away.

The silence felt like it lasted at least an hour, even if it was only a few painful seconds. Smitty watched in real time as John found his resolve.

“No.”

And then John took the first step.

He took off back toward Smitty’s house, leaving Jess in stunned silence. John flung the front door open and headed inside, never looking back. He didn’t even wait for Smitty.

Smitty gave Jess an awkward smile as he quickly shuffled away from her. “Um…it was nice meeting you!” he said with a wave, his polite Canadian side getting the best of him.

He didn’t want to be rude to her—John cared about Jess a great deal. As far as first impressions go, it wasn’t great. But that didn’t mean Smitty couldn’t at least try and be nice to her.

He faintly heard Jess scoff as he closed the door behind him, locking it just in case Jess got any ideas. He turned to see if the commotion had woken any of his friends in the living room, but they were all still asleep. The alcohol really knocked them out. 

John kept walking and only stopped to throw the back door open. Smitty winced as the glass rattled in the frame. Smitty rushed to meet him outside, hoping to calm him. Before Smitty could stop him, before he was in reach—John picked up the bottle of Jack Daniels that Grizzy had left out on the porch, and put it to his lips.

Smitty started sprinting.

But he was never. Fucking. Fast enough.

Smitty watched in helpless horror as John downed the equivalent of a shot. The only alcohol he’d ever had. A drink he never wanted.

Smitty ripped the bottle away from him before John could have any more, a few drops spilling to the ground. John didn’t even fight him for it, his hand falling gracelessly to his side once it had nothing left to hold on to.

“What?” John’s voice was cold, his tone biting and bitter. “You’re the one who said I should live a little.”

“Knocking back some Arizona Iced Tea in defiance of your overly strict diet is a bit different than this.” Smitty shook the bottle once for emphasis. The amber liquid splashed against the glass, attempting to escape. “I’m not just gonna sit back and let you do something we both know you’ll regret. Getting drunk is not going to solve your problems.”

John huffed, fuming. “You don’t fucking get it, Smitty. I have given her everything— everything! And it is never enough.”

Smitty’s heart shattered. John’s hands shook so badly. He wanted to reach out, to give John something to hold on to—something real, and here, and now. But the last thing he wanted was to make what John was going through any worse than it already was.

He kept his hands to himself. He refused to let go of the bottle of Jack Daniels in case John reached for it again, but he quickly closed the sliding glass door just in case any of his friends did wake up.

“I’m sorry, John.” What else was there to say? “She had no right to—I’m so sorry.”

John laughed, angry and broken and wrong. “You remember I said she forgot to tell me about competing abroad for a year?” Smitty didn’t respond, but John wasn’t really looking for an answer. “Total bullshit. She didn’t forget. She did that shit on purpose. Not that she’d ever admit it—but I know. I know her. As if she’s ever forgotten anything.” John wrung his hands together, trying to stop the shaking. “She did it because I had the audacity to get my license. I was doing something just for me, just one thing to have the tiniest bit of independence—and she couldn’t fucking stand it. She dragged me out of the country for an entire goddamn year because I wanted to learn how to drive.”

Oh, god. 

The revelation is too much—too unbelievable. Who the fuck did Jess think she was? What the hell was wrong with her?

“That’s fucking awful,” Smitty said, because it was. “You didn’t deserve that.”

John shook his head. “...You wanna know the worst part?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t even bring myself to hate her. Not for that, not for showing up here unannounced—not for anything. Because for as much grief as she’s given me, I know all she ever wanted was for me to have it better than she did.”

“That doesn’t mean she—”

“I know. I’m not making excuses for her—not anymore. But it’s just…she complains that making music is taking up too much of my time, then she goes out of her way to make sure I can use one of my songs for my performance. It wasn’t easy, either. She loves that I make my own costumes for competitions, she beams and tells me how proud she is that I put so much of myself into everything I do. But then I turn around and put patches on my jeans or alter my shirts and she frowns and says my clothes looked better before. She doesn’t understand any of my paintings—she’s always felt like art is something you either get or don’t—but she calls them beautiful anyway. Pezzy gets along with her so well, but she’ll only like him for as long as he keeps challenging me. And I can’t—” John wiped at his eyes furiously. It didn’t help much. The tears were coming faster than he could stop them. “She loves me. Under all of it—I can see that the love is still there. And I can’t ever not love her.”

Smitty couldn’t help himself. No words would fix this. He reached his arms around John and pulled him in close, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He was worried if he didn’t hold on tight enough, John might disappear.

John tensed momentarily, and Smitty almost moved away, fearing he made the wrong call. But then John all but fell apart in his arms, melting into him. His whole body turned to mush. He was counting on Smitty keeping him upright.

Smitty would never let him down.

He wasn’t going to let go until John did. He would’ve stayed there for an eternity if that was what John needed.

They stood there for an indeterminate amount of time. Eventually, John pulled back, but he didn’t let go of Smitty entirely, keeping his hands around his waist.

“I can’t be her puppet forever, Smit,” John whispered, a quiet admission. “I am so tired of being perfect.”

“Oh, John,” Smitty started with a smile. Maybe he shouldn’t joke at a time like this, but he just couldn’t help it. “You are so far from perfect, it’s laughable.”

It did get a surprised laugh out of John. Smitty would take it.

“Wow, thanks,” John said.

Smitty stepped closer, raising his hands and placing them lightly against John’s jaw to brush the tear tracks away. “You don’t know how to get along with people. You can be brash, or come across as rude. But, so what? You only ever have the best of intentions, and everything you do is quite literally for the benefit of someone else because you never learned how not to care no matter how much you pretend that you don’t. No, you’re not perfect.” The tears were all gone, but Smitty couldn’t bring himself to take his hands away. “And acting like you are is killing you.”

John frowned. “So, what? I’m just supposed to ‘be myself?’”

“Yes,” Smitty declared. “Do you think I only like you because you’re ‘perfect?’ Do you think that’s the reason Pezzy spends time with you? Or Droid?”

“...But, Jess—”

“Will Jess really just instantly hate you if you decide to tell her the truth?”

Smitty didn’t actually know the answer to that one. John didn’t seem to either.

“I…I don’t know.”

Smitty sighed, moving his hands to John’s shoulders. “Anyone who abandons you the second you show them who you truly are isn’t someone worth keeping in your life,” he said. “But the people who accept you for you aren’t going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”

John’s eyes shone with something like despair swirling with a sliver of hope. He closed his eyes before the hope could win out, resting his forehead against Smitty’s. It was only then that he really processed how close they were.

“...You really have no idea, do you?” John asked, so quiet Smitty almost missed it.

“No idea about what?”

John lifted his head to look straight at Smitty. There was something else swimming in his eyes now, some new emotion Smitty couldn’t parse.

He took one hand off Smitty’s waist to cup his chin, and suddenly the air changed, becoming too thick to breathe.

This wasn’t part of the game. This was…this was something else.

John stared at Smitty like he was studying him, committing every small detail or freckle to memory. And Smitty just…let him look. He didn’t feel analyzed, or picked apart—he really only felt…

loved.

John’s gaze flickered to Smitty’s lips. Smitty could’ve pretended he was only imagining it if John didn’t drag his thumb across them, parting them slightly.

Smitty couldn’t do it. Whatever this was—whatever John wanted— he couldn’t. 

And, yes—a part of him might’ve wanted this too. But the bigger, louder part of him was just too fucking scared.

He wasn’t ready. 

“John?” Smitty asked, trying to break the trance. “Did that shot catch up to you?”

John seemed to come back to earth, realizing how close he was and where his hands were. Slowly, regretfully, John dropped his hands to his side.

“No, it’s…it’s nothing,” John muttered. He wouldn’t look at Smitty anymore. “Forget it.”

He didn’t want to forget.

“...Some fucking party, huh?” Smitty asked, trying for humor.

Because when had that ever failed him? 

Somehow, some way—that managed to get a small smile from John. He was looking at him again. Smitty never wanted him to stop looking at him like that.

“I dunno.” John shrugged. “I had fun.”

***

John’s original plan had been to pull an all-nighter and go back to meet Jess before he went on his morning jog. But he very much did not want to see Jess, right now.

Smitty told him he could stay and get some sleep in his room. But John wasn’t having it.

“Where would you sleep?” he asked.

Droid and Matt took up the whole couch, and Grizzy was on the recliner, so, “I can just sleep on the floor.”

John frowned. “I’m not taking your bed from you.”

“...How about we just share?”

John seemed surprised by the suggestion. Which made sense, considering what had just happened outside. But if it meant John would get some rest, he didn’t mind sharing.

John hesitated, but not for long. They were both too tired to argue.

“Okay. Sure,” John agreed.

Smitty’s room wasn’t anything crazy. His bed was tucked in the far corner under the window, a simple wooden bedframe and black comforter decorating the mattress. The navy blue walls had some chips that revealed the old white paint underneath. His dresser sat across from the foot of his bed with the closet door just beside it. He had a desk right next to the entrance, old cans and knick-nacks littering the surface scattered around his computer. 

He wished he’d gotten to clean it a bit before letting John see it. He rushed to pick up some discarded clothes from the ground and threw them into the hamper.

“Oh, wait,” Smitty said, giving John a once-over. “You need clothes.”

John looked over his own outfit. “I can sleep in my jeans.”

“...That’s psycho,” Smitty stated. “You can borrow something of mine. No way am I letting you sleep in jeans.”

John shrugged. “It’s really not that bad—”

Smitty opened his closet. “Just pick whatever. It’ll probably fit,” he said. “I gotta go turn out the lights in the house and make sure my friends are still good so you can change in here. I’ll be right back.”

John looked through Smitty’s closet, feigning disinterest. “...You mind if I borrow a shirt too?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Smitty left to turn off the kitchen and living room lights, making sure to get the porch light as well. His friends were fine, none of them got sick or even stirred from their original positions. Smitty smiled. They were out cold.

Smitty knocked on his bedroom door before he re-entered, waiting for John’s response.

“Come in,” John said.

Smitty turned the handle, and knew he was fucked. John was sitting on the edge of his bed, legs crossed, his arms behind him to prop himself up. But the real problem was the clothes John chose to wear.

He’d picked some comfy basketball shorts, Smitty’s favorite pair. He didn’t mind, he told John he could wear whatever he wanted. The shirt, though—well. John had to know what he was doing with that.

It was Smitty’s jersey.

As in, his team jersey. The one he wore to games. Green with blue accents—Froghouse’s colors. Smitty could see his number, 07, sitting on the sleeve. There was no mistaking it.

If John turned around, Smitty would see his last name written across his back in big, bold letters.

“Hope you don’t mind,” John said, twisting the fabric between his fingers. He sounded shy, unsure. “These things are softer than they look.”

Smitty cleared his throat. “No, I don’t mind.” And then, because John wearing his jersey was breaking his brain, “It looks good on you.”

John’s warm smile was worth any potential embarrassment. “Come sit with me.”

Smitty sat with him. John nodded to the skates that currently hung over the back of his desk chair.

“Those yours?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“They’re all…scuffed up.”

Smitty laughed. “Well, yeah. That’s what happens when you play a full-contact sport. Your shit’s gonna get scuffed.”

John hummed, lost in thought. Smitty wasn’t sure why John was so fixated on his boring skates, but he let it go. Maybe he was just trying to make conversation. Conversation that wouldn’t lead to the awkwardness from before.

“...You doing okay?” Smitty tried.

John sighed. “I’m better now. Not perfect, but…I guess I don’t need to be,” he said. “Are you okay?”

Smitty smiled. John was worried about how Smitty was doing after all that—like he was the one who needed to be worried about.

“Fine,” Smitty said. “But, um…I am, y’know—pretty fucking exhausted.”

“Right, yeah.” John’s shoulders slumped. He was disappointed, maybe? Or, more likely, the exhaustion was finally hitting him too. “We should probably get some sleep.”

“...We can stay up for a bit longer, if you want,” Smitty suggested.

“Nah, it’s late. We either go to bed now or don’t get any sleep at all.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Smitty ended up taking the side closer to the window. He usually slept on the other side, closer to the charger—but John asked if he could have that side and Smitty couldn’t bring himself to say no. 

John turned off the lamp on Smitty’s bedside table, basking them in total darkness. Smitty knew it wasn’t going to take much for him to fall asleep, so he didn’t bother fighting it. He would’ve been out in under a minute if John hadn’t said anything.

But he did. “...Can I ask why you jumped off the bridge?”

It took Smitty a second to drag his brain back into consciousness. “What?”

“What you were talking about earlier—when you hurt your foot and had to go to the ER,” John explained. “You had to know it wasn’t safe. But Puffer dared you to, and you did it.”

Smitty shuffled to face John. John was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Smitty couldn’t make out any expressions in the darkness. 

“I was drunk, man,” Smitty said. “Drunk people do stupid shit.”

“Was that really the only reason?”

Smitty tensed. No one asked him that before. Smitty never really thought about it too hard. He was drunk, end of story.

Right?

“I mean, it was the main reason, probably,” Smitty started. “But, I guess—I don’t know. I didn’t know the guys that well, I wanted to impress them, shit like that. Wound up doing the opposite though. I just stressed them the fuck out.”

“And you don’t do shit like that anymore?” John asked.

Smitty’s brain started working again. John was weary about injuries. Because of what happened to Jess. He was afraid Smitty was going to get hurt again. Going to get hurt worse—in a way he couldn’t come back from.

He knew he never should’ve told that story. It was fucking haunted.

“No, John. I don’t go jumping off bridges in my spare time,” Smitty said. 

“But you do kick metal trash cans.”

Smitty frowned. “I don’t think that's even remotely equivalent. And that was one time.”

“...I just don’t want you doing dumb shit that puts you back in the hospital.”

“I literally play a sport that has a high chance of putting me in the hospital at some point or another. In fact—it already has,” Smitty said. “I know that’s not what you wanna hear, but sometimes I’m gonna get hurt. I take the measures against it, and I’m not seeking out other dangerous shit in my day-to-day—but I can’t promise that I’m always gonna be perfectly safe.”

“I know. It’s just…when you told me that story I couldn’t stop thinking—never mind. It’s stupid.”

“I won’t think it’s stupid.”

“If something happened to you…”

Smitty waited for John to finish, but he never did. Smitty figured he didn’t want to follow that train of thought to its terrible conclusion.

“John. I’m right here, and I’m okay,” Smitty reassured. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

John turned on his side, facing Smitty. “...Okay. I know I’m acting like a crazy overly attached girlfriend—”

“No you’re not,” Smitty insisted. “...You’re allowed to worry about the shit that’s worrying you.”

He still couldn’t see anything distinct, but John’s smile broke through the dark—a shining light. “Alright, I get it. You didn’t have to use my own words against me just to prove a point.”

Smitty laughed, languid and easy. “Goodnight, John.”

“Night, Smit.”

***

Smitty wasn’t quite sure where he was.

He had just been getting ready to go skating on the lake he and Matt used to play hockey on during the winter. Which must mean he was back in Canada. But Smitty wasn’t skating.

He was on ice, but he was barefoot. And he couldn’t be certain this ice was the lake. The fog and the incoming snowstorm made it impossible to tell. He started walking to find a way back to some kind of land, but the ice seemed to stretch on forever.

Smitty’s foot was bleeding. He was leaving smears of red everywhere he walked, the color vibrant and jarring against the blinding white of his surroundings. But it didn’t hurt. Smitty couldn’t even feel it.

He couldn’t feel anything, actually. Shouldn't he be cold?

He heard the familiar scraping sound of skates gliding across ice in the distance. He moved to follow the noise, but it wasn’t necessary. Whoever was skating was seeking him out. A group of people, Smitty realized, were getting closer.

Smitty was relieved when he saw green and blue jerseys though the storm. It was just his team.

He was less relieved when they surrounded him, skating around him in a perfect circle, all of them equidistant from each other. Smitty could tell who was who because they were wearing their respective jerseys, but for some reason their helmets were completely masking their faces. It didn’t make any sense, but when Smitty tried to look for discerning features, he only found shadows. 

“Guys, what’s going on?” Smitty asked. “Where are we?”

No one answered him. The circle kept spinning. They started hitting their hockey sticks against their hands repeatedly, a chilling rhythm. This new pattern was just as in sync as the rest of their movements.

“Hello? Did I miss something?” Smitty tried. “If this is a bit I really don’t get it.”

Unanswered. Again.

“Guys!” Smitty felt panic start to build up in his bones. The drumbeat of hockey sticks was getting louder. “Seriously—quit it!”

The circle's speed started to increase. As did the clack, clack, clack of those fucking sticks until it was as fast as his racing heartbeat. 

“Why am I the only one saying anything!” Smitty exclaimed. “Why am I the only one ever saying anything!”

His friends were starting to become a blur at this point. Soon he wouldn’t be able to distinguish one from the other.

He tried to pick them out from the crowd while he still could. “Droid!” he yelled. He wished one of them would at least fucking look at him, or even just acknowledge that he was there at all. “Talk to me! Please!”

It was futile. But they weren’t going to stop, so Smitty wasn’t either. He had to keep trying to get through to them.

“Matt? Puffer?” Smitty’s throat felt raw, like he’d been screaming for hours. Or years. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!”

Suddenly, harshly, and all at once, they freeze. Their skates skid as they come to a halt, kicking up flecks of ice in the process. They only pause for a moment before they’re raising their hockey sticks over their heads, slamming them into the ground.

The ice began to crack. 

“Wait—stop!”

But Smitty’s cries were in vain. His friends kept swinging. 

They hit the ice once more, then three times. They didn’t quit until they reached seven.

It was too dangerous to move now. One wrong step, and he’d be sent under. They all would.

Or, at least, Smitty thought they’d be stuck in this together. But his friends seemed immune to the brittle ice, and they skated away without issue, creating no further breaks than the ones they left Smitty to deal with.

“Come back!” Smitty screamed. “Guys! You can’t just leave me here!”

But the sound of skates against ice was only getting further away.

Eventually, his friends got so far he couldn’t hear them at all. And then he’s all alone. The only thing left was the whipping wind and swirling snow. That, and the icy water he was about to fall in.

Smitty tried to remember what to do in emergency situations like this. He used to know—something about getting on your stomach, maybe? But he was too filled with dread to do anything but wallow.

None of this even really felt like it was happening, anyway. Distantly, he knew he should be figuring out what to do to save his life, but his life never felt like it was actually in jeopardy. 

He only felt a familiar sadness. A sadness he’s had since birth. A sadness he learned to cover up with jokes so no one could ever see it. 

A sadness that had always felt a little bit like drowning.

He was already drowning. Every day. All the time. So, this? This would be nothing.

Smitty closed his eyes, ready to plunge into the depths.

But, then, “Smitty?”

Smitty snapped his eyes open. He knew that voice. How could he ever forget that voice?

“John?” 

Both of them sounded so frail, so pathetic. They were both so lost.

Smitty couldn’t make much out in the fog. John’s face was really the only thing that came through. His eyes, more specifically. 

Golden eyeshadow and running mascara. John had been crying.

“John, you have to get out of here,” Smitty said urgently. “It’s not safe.”

“I…I can’t,” John said. “I can’t move.”

“We have to distribute our weight,” Smitty stated, the emergency protocol finally coming back to him. “Can you at least lie down?”

John shook his head helplessly. Smitty heard more cracking. It wasn’t going to hold for much longer. And with two of them, it was only getting worse.

Smitty watched a new break form, the fracture tracing a perfect outline around John.

He was going to fall.

“No!”

Smitty moved before he even knew what he was doing, each step harder than the last as the ground beneath him shattered. He shoved John as far as he possibly could, with all the strength he could manage, hoping beyond hope that the direction he chose was close to land.

He would never know if he saved John, though. Because the second John hit the ground, Smitty went under it.

And then he could feel everything.

The water was so cold that it didn’t even feel cold anymore—the sensation was more like burning.

Every part of his body seized almost immediately. He tried to fight his way back to the surface, but he ran out of stamina fast. Before he knew it, his limbs became useless, as frozen as the water. 

The darkness frightened him more than the cold. The small point of light illuminating the crack he fell through grew smaller and smaller as he sunk into the depths. Soon it would be gone, and he’d be left with nothing but the void.

Not that it would matter. His consciousness was already starting to fade. He was flickering in and out. At any moment, it was all going to end.

He hoped John made it out okay. He wished they could’ve made it back together.

Why should it have to be one or the other? It seemed so unfair.

…It doesn’t have to be this way.

Everything went black, and he went back to feeling nothing at all.

Chapter Text

Smitty woke with a start, his heart pounding and his head spinning. It took him a bit to calm down, to realize where he was.

He wasn’t drowning. He was just in his room. It was only a stupid dream. 

He was okay.

Smitty put a hand to his chest and took a few steadying breaths. He’d been so startled that he fully sat up in bed, which had only ever happened to him maybe one other time when he had that nightmare about zombies killing his entire family when he was, like, twelve.

“Smit?”

Oh, shit. He woke John.

He honestly forgot John was even in the room for a second. He was too busy freaking out.

“I’m fine,” Smitty said. “Just a dream. Can’t hurt me.”

“...You wanna talk about it?”

No. No he did not.

“Go back to sleep, John. I’m okay, promise.”

Smitty didn’t lay back down just yet. He still needed time to process all that. Or maybe he should let it do what dreams did best and forget it entirely. It didn’t have to mean anything if he didn’t want it to.

There was no cracking ice. The ground wasn’t going to give way.

Smitty didn’t need to sacrifice himself.

He heard the ruffling of sheets and figured John rolled over to go back to sleep, but when he turned he saw John holding out his arms—almost like an invitation.

“C’mere,” John mumbled drowsily, still half asleep.

“...John, forreal. I’m fine.”

Smitty still couldn’t really see John’s face, but he knew he was frowning that same frown he always wore when things didn’t immediately go his way. Smitty smiled at the thought of it.

“You’re upset,” John stated.

Smitty sighed. “Y’know—it kinda pisses me off when you just automatically assume you know exactly how I feel.”

Slowly, John put his arm down, moving to sit up beside Smitty. “Okay. I won’t do that anymore. How do you feel?”

Smitty hung his head, pulling his knees to his chest. Why was everyone so concerned with how he felt? He was so tired of talking about his feelings. He had enough of that tonight to last a lifetime.

“Why do I always need to know how I feel about every little thing? Can’t I just be confused?” Smitty asked. “I don't know, and I don’t care to know. Maybe I just wanna go back to bed.”

“...Confused?”

Really? That was the thing John had decided to single out?

“Yes, confused,” Smitty said. “I can’t just perfectly summarize all of my emotions at every given moment, and definitely not right after I wake up. I had a shitty dream, it’s over, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then let's not talk about it.”

Smitty glanced up. John was holding out his arm again. This time, Smitty couldn’t help but fall into him.

John turned them and laid them back down. He snaked his arms around Smitty’s middle and pulled him in close. His chest was pressed against Smitty’s back. Smitty could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, and the rhythm of it matched the air lightly tickling the back of his neck.

Smitty felt mildly embarrassed to be the little spoon, but it was outweighed by how safe he felt. John’s body was warm and solid and real. His hold was grounding Smitty to the present, protecting him. Smitty had never been too big on cuddling, it usually just left him feeling overheated, but he might be starting to get it.

No one had ever held him like this. No one ever offered to.

Smitty could see the faint dregs of the morning light peeking through his window, the sun starting its journey over the horizon. A new day.

Smitty relaxed, closed his eyes, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

The first thought Smitty had was that he really needed to piss.

The second thought was that something was preventing him from getting up.

His third, and most prevalent thought, was oh, fuck.

The thing restricting his movement wasn’t a thing at all. It was John.

While they were asleep they’d shifted slightly. Their legs were intertwined now, and—the worst of it—John’s hands were under Smitty’s shirt, resting on his stomach.

He had a lot of feelings about that, but the main one he chose to focus on was how cold John’s hands were.

It actually felt kinda nice. Smitty was built like a human furnace, so he welcomed the chill spreading through his skin.

But, for one thing, this was weird. (Not because it felt too intimate or overly familiar—but because it didn’t). And, for another—he still had to piss.

He carefully tried to pry John’s arms off of him. He moved slowly, hoping not to wake him.

It did not work.

John stirred with a groan. His hold on Smitty tightened.

“Five more minutes,” John mumbled, his voice raspy from sleep.

Smitty huffed out a laugh. “John. You gotta let me up. I gotta pee.”

Hearing Smitty's voice seemed to wake John up. It was a gradual thing at first, a deep breath as he took in his surroundings and came back into consciousness. But then, Smitty felt John’s hands twitch, and they were off Smitty in an instant, like his skin had burned him.

John untangled their legs too, freeing Smitty entirely. “Y-yeah. Go ahead, man.”

Smitty got up and climbed over John as casually as he could, rushing to the bathroom. After he was done, he came back out to the living room to see Droid scrolling through his phone. Matt was still asleep, and Grizzy was missing.

“Where’s Grizzy?” Smitty asked.

“Puffer swung by earlier and grabbed him,” Droid replied. “He wanted to say bye, but didn’t wanna wake you.”

Smitty shrugged. “It’s chill. I’ll see him tomorrow at practice. Once Matt gets up do you wanna grab breakfast?”

Droid kicked Matt’s leg, startling him awake. “What the hell, Droid?” he asked, groggy and annoyed.

Droid smiled at Smitty. “He’s up.”

Smitty laughed. “Damn. You’re that hungry, huh?”

“What’s happening?” Matt asked.

“We’re gonna grab breakfast here in a sec,” Smitty explained.

Matt sat upright. “Well, shit—why didn’t you say so?”

Smitty rolled his eyes. “Just gimme a bit. I’ll go tell John.”

Droid looked confused. Matt matched his expression.

“John’s still here?” Droid asked.

“Where is he?” Matt added.

“He’s in my room.” Then, before they could ask him more questions, “I’ll be right back.”

He left, returning to his bedroom. John was sitting on the carpet, frowning at his phone.

“...Why are you on the floor?” Smitty asked.

John ignored him. “It’s past noon. I haven’t slept in this late since…I can’t even remember when,” he said. “I missed breakfast with Jess, and my run, and my cooldown exercises, and…and I have about a million missed calls from her because I turned my phone off last night and I can’t tell if I should panic or feel relieved.”

Smitty moved to sit beside him. “She’s not in control of you, John. Missing one run isn’t going to ruin your entire career. She’s been putting too much pressure on you for too long. You’re allowed to take a break.”

John sighed, long and heavy. He put his phone down, facing Smitty.

“We were about to go get food—me, Droid and Matt,” Smitty said. “Wanna come?”

John picked at his nails. “...No, I—I should really get back. The longer I leave things like this, the worse it’s gonna get. I appreciate the offer, though.”

Smitty didn’t want John to have to deal with all that alone. He knew he was going to have to, eventually, but still. It sucked.

“You sure?” Smitty asked.

“I can handle Jess. I’ve known her basically my whole life.”

“I know, but—”

“Smit. I’ll be fine.”

Smitty took a deep breath, nodding. “Okay. But—promise you’ll call me, or text me, at least. Just to let me know how everything goes. And you have my address now, and you’re welcome anytime if you need a place to hide out for a while—”

“Smitty.” John smiled, warm and disarming. “Thank you, seriously. But I swear Jess isn’t nearly as scary as she seems.”

“...Still. Text me.”

“Sure. I promise.”

Smitty still had about a dozen knots tied in his chest, but it wasn’t like he could forbid John from seeing her. It wouldn’t be right.

“Alright, then,” Smitty said. “I’ll bring you your bag. It’s still in the kitchen, I think.”

“Thanks.”

Smitty went and easily found the bag resting beside the kitchen counter. He picked it up and flung it over his shoulder, turning toward Matt and Droid who were still lounging around on the couch.

“John’s gotta get going so he’s not coming with us.”

“He has to?” Matt asked. “Are you sure its not just that he doesn’t fuck with us?”

Smitty laughed. “What makes you think that?”

Matt shrugged. “Just asking. I’m worried our drunk asses mighta scared him off is all.”

“John was the one worried you guys didn’t like him.”

“What?” Matt asked, incredulous. “That’s crazy. We like him plenty.”

“Yeah, he’s cool,” Droid said.

Smitty did his best not to react. Droid was still under the impression that Smitty had no clue about his relationship with John—or with Pezzy, for that matter. It was important he kept it that way, at least until the two of them got a chance to talk one-on-one.

Smitty opened his mouth to respond, but someone else beat him to the punch.

“You guys aren’t so bad yourselves,” John said, appearing at Smitty’s side.

He had changed back into his clothes, Smitty noticed. Which was good, since Matt might’ve killed John if he saw him wearing Smitty’s jersey. 

“Holy shit—how did you do that?” Matt asked. “You’re so quiet, dude.”

John took his duffel bag from Smitty. “You’re so loud, dude.”

“Damn. Got me there.”

John smirked. “Nah, but forreal. I really enjoyed meeting you all. I know you guys are a pretty tight knit group and it means a lot that you let me be a part of it.”

Matt was genuinely taken aback. “Well—yeah, man. Of course. Hanging with you was great. You gotta come round more often.”

Smitty saw John tense ever so slightly, entirely unnoticeable to the untrained eye. But Smitty had grown used to watching for those small motions, the tiniest indicators of John’s true emotions.

Because John knew he wouldn’t be sticking around for much longer.

“Um…yeah, I mean—I would love to.” John rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly fidgety. “I left my phone in your room, Smit. I’ll be right back.”

Matt watched and waited until John was out of ear shot. “...He’s way nicer than I was expecting,” he said. “Dude is like, super genuine.”

“It’s kinda hard to believe at first, right?” Smitty asked.

Matt nodded. 

“Definitely,” Droid agreed.

Smitty briefly wondered what Droid's first meeting with John was like. Pezzy’d introduced them, obviously, but how had John acted then? What had he said? Did Droid know two versions of John—the old along with the new? Or was he the same as he ever was?

John returned a moment later and they said their goodbyes. It was strange, though—John’s duffel bag was empty when Smitty’d picked it up, but when Smitty gave John a hug he could feel something in the bag pressing against his side.

Smitty assumed John just took back some of the alcohol he’d brought over. Which was fine, the stuff belonged to him, but Smitty prayed it wasn’t because John wanted to drink them for himself.

It was probably a peace offering to Jess or something, he reasoned.

After John left, the rest of them took off to the Denny’s down the street. The food wasn’t the best or anything, but it was good hangover food, which Droid and Matt desperately needed. The two of them were in much higher spirits on the walk back.

They were talking in Smitty’s driveway for a bit before Matt and Droid decided it was probably time for them to get home.

He pulled Matt in for a hug, then Droid. He thought about leaving the Droid thing for later—he was sort of out of energy and not sure if he could handle yet another big conversation—but he just couldn’t let Droid leave without setting the record straight.

He couldn’t help but feel like the whole ignoring the problem until it went away thing was how they got into this mess in the first place. So he wouldn’t ignore it. 

“Oh, wait—Droid,” Smitty said, effectively stopping Droid in his tracks. “Mind coming in for a sec? You left your hockey tape last time you were here and I’ve been meaning to get it back to you.”

Droid was trying not to let his confusion show on his face, but he wasn’t doing a great job of it. He knew he never left any tape here.

“...Sure, man,” Droid said. “Catch you later, Matt?”

“See ya,” Matt said, walking backwards to his car. “Don’t be late for practice tomorrow! We just had a week off so it’s not the time to be slacking!”

“We’ll be there!” Smitty said, waving.

He walked back in with Droid, and when the door closed, the air shifted. Both of them could feel it.

“I know exactly where my tape is, and it’s not here,” Droid stated. “So what’s really going on?”

Breathe, Smitty. Just breathe.

He could do this. But his biggest concern was how to go about it without hurting Droid.

“...Can we sit down?” Smitty asked.

The look on Droid’s face made Smitty’s heart seize in his chest. It was pure dread. Almost like he knew what was coming next.

Still, he sat down on the couch with him, the two turned inward to face each other.

“Is everything okay?” Droid asked, a crease between his eyebrows.

“Yeah—it’s all good,” Smitty reassured. “But, listen…I kinda overheard something I wasn’t supposed to, and I’d take it back if I could, but I can’t just unhear it.”

Droid’s breath hitched. “What was it?”

Rip the band-aid off.  

“I know you’re dating Pezzy.”

Droid’s fists clenched, then relaxed, then clenched again—like his body wasn’t quite sure how to react. “...Fuck.”

“Sorry, I…we don’t have to talk about it, or anything. But it felt unfair not to tell you that I knew.”

Droid was quiet for a while, not looking at Smitty. His leg was bouncing like crazy. Smitty resisted the urge to copy the movement.

“So, you heard me and John?” Droid asked.

Smitty’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah. I swear it wasn’t on purpose—”

“No, I know.” Droid had a thousand yard stare—he was looking at something beyond these walls. “I…fuck, Smitty. I am so sorry.”

Smitty shook his head. “You don’t have to be sorry, man. I mean, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting a little, but—you had to do what was best for you,” he said. “Still, you know we woulda all loved to meet your boyfriend, right? None of us would’ve, like, given you shit for it.”

Droid sighed. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not? Matt brings guys around from time to time, and it's not like we get all weird or whatever when he does.”

“Its not that I think you guys are homophobic or something, that’s not the issue. Like—okay, yes, sometimes I feel like I can’t relate to you guys on certain things—and that can be hard. And I feel like it’d be hard for you to relate to me, too, which makes things complicated, which is probably why I put off coming out for this long. But, seriously, it’s not a huge problem or anything,” Droid said. “You’d all be fine with me having a boyfriend, but if I introduced him and for some reason or another you all decided he wasn’t good for me—I’d lose him. You know how it goes with us.”

“You really think we wouldn’t get along with him?” Smitty asked. “From what I’ve heard from John he sounds great.”

A hint of a smile played on Droid’s lips. “Oh, he’s the best. You would fucking adore him. I’m not saying it's super rational, but I can’t…” 

“...Can’t what?”

Droid exhaled like he’d been holding his breath forever. “Smitty, I’m in love with him. Like, the type of love where I wanna spend my life by his side and grow old with him. And it makes me so damn stupid.” He could meet Smitty’s eye, then. Smitty could see the tragedy in his fading smile. “Matt brings over flings. He wouldn’t care one way or the other how we felt about them, because he never plans on seeing a guy for more than like a week. Which is whatever, who cares—but my point is Pezzy’s different. If you hated him I’d never recover. And no matter how unlikely that outcome is, I’ve never felt brave enough to test it.”

Smitty knocked his knee against Droid’s. “Hey,” he started. “You don’t have to tell anyone shit about anything—not until you’re ready. But we would never force you to choose between us and him.”

Droid nodded, his mind still so far away. “No, you wouldn’t—I know. Still—and I get this isn’t the same thing—but let's say Matt couldn’t stand John. Matt wouldn’t make you take sides. You’re telling me you wouldn’t choose Matt anyway?”

Smitty rubbed his arm. “That’s…I mean—I’ve known Matt since we were kids. That hardly seems fair.”

“Okay. What if it was Rectrixx? Or Grizzy? Or me?”

“...Fine, I get it. We’re all way too close and it fucks with our other relationships.”

Droid frowned. “That’s not what I’m saying. I wouldn’t trade what we have for the world. All I’m saying is it makes things hard.”

Smitty sighed. “I hear you. I still wish you felt like you coulda told us, but…I understand,” he said. “And I’m sorry you’ll never get to tell me the way you wanted. It’s fucked up.”

Droid shrugged, an uncomfortable gesture. “If I’d just had the balls to tell you sooner—”

“Stop. C’mon, you’re being way too hard on yourself.”

“Is it not true, though?”

“The only thing you’re doing wrong is beating yourself up over shit you can’t control,” Smitty declared. “You weren’t ready. That’s okay.”

Droid took a deep breath, collecting himself. Smitty tried to gauge how he was feeling, but it was difficult. The most he could discern was a kind of frustration that Droid seemed to be directing mostly at himself. No matter what Smitty said, Droid was still going to have his regrets.

He was mad at himself for keeping his boyfriend a secret, mad about the lies that spawned to protect that secret. Smitty wasn’t mad at him, not really—not anymore. Everything Droid said made perfect sense. The only struggle Smitty was finding was how terribly relatable it felt.

Droid said it would be hard to relate to. For a straight person, at least.

Droid was staring down at his hands, unblinking. He’d just given Smitty so much, shared a whole side of himself he wasn’t ready to, and it broke Smitty’s heart how fragile he seemed now. 

Smitty couldn’t fix it, he knew that. There was nothing to fix. But, at the very least—Smitty knew he needed to give Droid a part of him in return. An equal exchange.

He had to say something.

“...I think I might be bi.”

Wow. He'd never actually admitted that could be a possibility—never used that word, not even in his own head.

Saying it out loud felt...good. Freeing.

Droid’s head shot up, his eyes wide in surprise as he stared right at Smitty. “What? Wait—actually?”

Smitty nodded, but it felt stilted—awkward. “Yeah. Um…sorry—it was just that you told me a lot of personal stuff just now, and I figured I should return the favor? Maybe?” This was a bad idea. “Sorry, it’s dumb.”

Droid beamed. “Dude. Stop apologizing. It’s not dumb,” he stated. “I appreciate you telling me, genuinely. Does anyone else know?”

“Matt does, I guess? Kinda?” He didn’t know how to talk about this like a normal person. The sensation of pins and needles stung his skin. “He knows I’m, like, questioning.”

“What made you start thinking about it?”

John. John and his stupid smirk and pretty hair. John who came into his life out of nowhere and made everything make sense while simultaneously making no fucking sense at all.

John who was hurting in a way Smitty couldn’t cure. John who was leaving in less than a week.

“I’m…uh…honestly not sure how to talk about this yet,” Smitty said. “Is that…is that okay?”

“Course it’s okay.”

“Cool. Besides—I wanna hear all about Pezzy,” Smitty started, changing the subject. “Only if you’re comfortable, obviously.”

Droid was clearly conflicted, but the part of him that wanted to gush about his boyfriend seemed to win out. “He came to one of our games, if you can believe it. It was a little over two years ago, at the Lunchclub rink—we were playing against Wildcard. He had a competition there the next day, so he swung by the match just to check it out. He’s pretty into hockey, actually. Not just cus he has a type, mind you—though that definitely plays a part,” he said. “Anyway, I actually happened to have seen a post about him the day before, so I knew who he was and decided to say hi. I was only planning on wishing him luck for his competition, but—I don’t know. We just kept talking, and I wound up giving him my number. I honestly didn’t really expect to hear from him after that, but we ended up talking all the time. I didn’t get it at first, why he wanted to call me so often, but you could probably guess.”

Smitty smiled. “So, he fell for you first?”

Droid huffed. “Hell no. He just knew I was a hockey player so he automatically thought I was hot. He’d say otherwise—but, nah. I was so whipped not even like a month in of knowing him.”

“How’d you guys end up together?” Smitty asked.

Droid frowned. “I know this is gonna sound dumb, but—I wish Pezzy were here to tell the story. He just tells it so much better than I do.”

“...Well, then don’t tell me,” Smitty said. “I’ll just have to hear it when I meet him.”

The corner of Droid’s mouth quirked up, and his eyes held a certain appreciation that Smitty couldn’t fully unravel. It wasn’t like Smitty had done anything special.

“...Is the distance hard?” Smitty asked. “I know he travels a lot.”

“Sure, it can be. Where do you think I disappear to during the off season?”

Smitty thought back on it. Yeah, sometimes Droid just up and left without telling anyone where he was going or how long he’d be gone for.

“I always assumed you were visiting family. You were seeing Pezzy?”

“Yup. Sometimes I travel with him to competitions. I love watching him perform. The way he lights up is just—indescribable. I joke that he loves skating more than me—but it’s lowkey true.”

The complete opposite of John.

“He’s been in town for the competition on Thursday, right?” Smitty asked.

Droid nodded. “It’s been really nice having him here. Kinda rough, since you went and befriended my boyfriend's best friend without even knowing, but we’ve been making it work. It’s…it’s difficult because he wants to tell people about us, but he can’t because of me. He says it doesn't bother him—but it makes me feel like a shitty boyfriend, sometimes. Not being able to give him this.”

“I’m sure he only wants to tell people if you do too.”

“Probably, yeah. But it still sucks.”

Smitty worried his lip. “Can’t really argue with that.”

“But, besides that, we’re pretty much perfect. It’s kinda annoying, actually. John gives us shit for how ‘coupley’ we act around each other.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve known John for…how long, actually?”

Droid ran the numbers in his head. “About the same amount of time I've known Pezzy. He was gone all year, so I didn’t see him for a bit, but we kept in touch. Last year I hung out with him pretty often, since he was competing at a lot of the same events as Pezzy.”

He didn’t know why he only remembered it then, but talking about John and Pezzy brought back something he’d almost completely forgotten about.

“...Did you ever take Pezzy to the rink?” Smitty asked.

Droid looked confused. “Yeah, actually. It’s hard to take him anywhere super public, since he’s fairly well known and we’re trying to keep our relationship under wraps. How’d you know?”

“Evan mentioned Pezzy once offhandedly. He didn’t say anything—don’t worry—I was just confused how he even knew him.”

Droid laughed. “Oh my god—dude. It was so embarrassing. I snuck him in there when he came to visit me last year, and Evan showed up. It was like two a.m. or something! To this day I have no idea why he needed to be there so late, but whatever,” he said. “He caught us making out on the bleachers. Pezzy was mortified, and freaking out thinking Evan might call the cops on us for tresspassing. Evan was just giving me shit, trying to very calmly explain that I couldn’t use the rink for my ‘scandalous rendezvous.’ His words, not mine. Why he said it like that I do not know. The man is a mystery, as far as I’m concerned.”

Thinking back on it—if Evan caught Droid and Pezzy making out, and he compared that situation to him and John…

Yeah. Evan definitely thought Smitty was dating John.

Oh well. A problem for another day.

“I agree with John,” Smitty said. “You guys sound annoyingly cute.”

“Oh—we are,” Droid stated. “...I’m sorry you have to keep this a secret from everybody else. Trust me, I know how much it hurts keeping shit from them. Making John lie to you guys was just as bad. It feels awful.”

“You don’t gotta worry about me, man. I’m here for you no matter what,” Smitty declared. “John and I got your back. And, y’know. When the day comes, no matter how long it takes, I’m positive the guys are gonna love Pezzy. I can’t wait to meet him. Except—I can, obviously—you get what I mean.”

Droid lit up. It seemed to be exactly what he needed to hear.

Thank god.

“Thank you, Smitty,” Droid said, earnest and heartfelt. “I know it was kinda unfortunate for things to come out this way—but, honestly? I mighta needed this. It…really helped.”

Smitty smiled. “Good. I’m glad. You can talk to me whenever you need—about anything.”

“You can too,” Droid replied. “I hope you’re able to figure everything out. That journey is mad confusing, and it’s not like me and Matt are experts in being gay or anything, but you can come to either of us for whatever.”

“Thanks.” Smitty’s heart was overflowing. It couldn’t hold everything he was feeling. “It’s…yeah, confusing. But…it’s been getting easier.”

Droid crushed Smitty into a big bear hug. “You’ve got this, my guy.”

Smitty leaned into the touch. “So do you.”

***

The next day, Smitty was a frantic mess.

He slammed his closet door closed after checking it for the third time. “I’m telling you—they’re not here.”

He was on the phone with Matt. He’d called him after realizing, minutes before practice, that his skates were nowhere to be found.

“Okay, well—they have to be somewhere,” Matt countered. “They didn’t just up and walk outta there.”

“Yes. Thank you. I am aware of that.”

They weren’t under his bed, either. Damn it.

“Did you check your closet?” Matt asked.

Smitty’d kill him if he wasn’t his best friend. “Yes. Three times.”

“You’ve really searched your whole house?”

“At least twice.”

Matt sighed. “Okay. I might have a theory. Could Grizzy, Puffer, Droid or Rectrixx have taken them? Everybody was drinking, maybe it was just some dumb prank they were trying to pull.”

“Rectrixx couldn’t have. I saw them after he’d already left. Puffer left before then too, and besides—he wouldn’t fuck with me like that right now.”

“Wait—why? What do you mean?”

“No, nothing.” The skates weren’t by the entryway. “I just mean it’s not really like him. Droid and Grizzy left the next morning and could’ve done it I guess, but Grizzy would have a hard time hiding them from Puffer and I really don’t buy Droid doing it. Plus—none of them ever entered my room. So unless they did it while I was sleeping?” No skates in the kitchen. “But someone would’ve fessed up by now—it’s our first practice back and our next game is against Sleep Deprived. No one’s gonna try and sabotage us just for some stupid bit.”

“Okay, yeah—you’re right,” Matt conceded. “Fuck, that’s so weird, though. You said the last time you saw them they were on your desk chair?”

“I’m certain that’s where I left them.”

“Listen—just get to practice. We’ll figure something out when we get there, even if you have to borrow the shitty rink skates. Afterward, I’ll come back with you to your place and help you look, yeah? We’ll find ‘em.”

Smitty ran a hand through his hair. “Fine, okay. That works. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He hung up before Matt got the chance to say goodbye. He didn’t even necessarily mean to, he was just too flustered to think about anything other than those damn skates.

He felt crazy. He could swear they vanished into thin air. And he kept good track of his gear too, so this? It left him on edge.

He cut his losses and drove over to the rink. He saw John when he arrived, surprisingly. He was leaning against the front of his car, wearing a frustrated grimace and holding his phone to his ear. 

Smitty wasn’t the type to assume, but if he had to guess, he’d say John was on the phone with Jess. 

Smitty gave a polite wave and sent a smile in John’s direction, but kept his distance. He really wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. It didn't exactly go so well last time, did it?

But when John saw Smitty, he beamed—and waved him over. Maybe his call was almost over. 

John didn’t hang up when Smitty got close. He didn't greet him with anything other than a nod. 

“No, trust me, Jess—I got that part.” John said. “I’m fully aware you don’t like him.”

Smitty rubbed his arm awkwardly. John sent him a sheepish look, his eyes apologetic. Smitty just shrugged it off. It’s not like he didn’t know Jess didn’t like him, but still. It sucked to hear. 

“You’re the one who said as long as my performance was perfect, I could keep doing what I’m doing. Those were your words.” John’s tone was frustrated, but Smitty could hear something lingering underneath the surface. Like he was begging, almost. Desperate for Jess to agree, to understand. “We both know I’m going to win. And you’ve never been one to go back on your word.”

Silence. Smitty shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Why had John even called him over here? He felt like he should just leave.

But then, John’s shoulders relaxed. “Yeah, I know. I’ll see you then.” He hung up the phone and gave Smitty his full attention. “I didn’t think that would take as long as it did. You shouldn't’ve had to hear any of that.”

“It’s whatever. You were able to smooth things over with her?”

John had texted last night letting Smitty know everything with Jess went well, but John’s definition of well could sometimes be…skewed. 

“Yeah, it’s all good. I told her I hadn’t missed a single practice, and she came to see my routine yesterday to make sure I wasn’t lying. And—yeah, technically, I did lie—but I only missed one practice, and she would’ve blown that way outta proportion,” John explained. Smitty guessed John also left out the part where Smitty’d been stopping by those practices. It’d only add fuel to the fire. “Anyway—she loves the routine, so she’s calmed down.”

“...Did she give you shit about me?”

John took a deep breath, holding it for a while. “She wants me to stop seeing you.”

Smitty couldn’t pretend that didn’t sting. “Oh.”

“Obviously I’m not going to do that—she can’t just ban me from talking to you, but…yeah,” John said. “Don’t take it personally. She’s impossible to please.”

Smitty looked away, fixated on a point just past John’s shoulder. His body didn’t feel quite right. He ignored it.

“What are you doing here so early?” Smitty asked, changing the subject. “Surely you’re not here just to tell me about Jess.”

“No, definitely not,” John agreed. “I actually have something for you.”

John went to open the passenger side door as Smitty stared on in confusion. “You couldn’t have given it to me later? I would’ve seen you after hockey.”

“I figured you’d probably want these now,” John said, holding out his duffel bag. “Can’t really skate without skates.”

Smitty’s eyes widened as he took the bag. “You had my skates? I’ve been looking for those fuckers everywhere!”

John laughed but there was a tinge of anxiety hidden in it. “Yeah, um…I had this idea—well, you’ll see.”

Smitty tilted his head. What was John talking about? 

Driven by his confusion, Smitty unzipped the bag and pulled out his ice skates.

Only—these weren’t his skates. They were black, like his, but these ones—they had sunflowers painted all around the bottom, yellow petals overlapping each other. Some of the intricately detailed flowers were cut off halfway, and some sat high enough that green stems and leaves were painted underneath to show them standing above the rest. They were beautiful. They couldn’t be Smitty’s.

…But they were.

John had completely revamped them. Even the worn out laces had been replaced, the old tattered things changed out for new vibrant green ones, matching the stems and leaves, as well as his jersey.

“John…I—I don’t even know what to say,” Smitty whispered, tracing his finger across the new patterns of paint. “You painted this?”

John started picking at his nails, then stopped, shoving his hands into his pockets instead. “Do you like them? There was a really big chance you freaked out on me for fucking with your stuff—which would be completely justified, by the way—and this whole thing backfired on me.”

Smitty smiled. “I love them. No one’s ever…this is…” He sighed, shaking his head. “Thank you.”

John beamed, and didn’t try and hide it. “I tried to cover up as many of the marks as I could, but I definitely missed a few. I think they came out okay, though.”

Smitty’s heart melted. It dripped out of his chest and landed in a puddle at John’s feet.

When did John even have the time for this? How long did he stay up to make sure it got completed in time? Why would John even think to do this for him?

“I can’t wear these, John. I’m only gonna ruin ‘em if I do,” Smitty said. “These are too pretty to play hockey in. You saw how badly scuffed they were before, and I don’t want to fuck up your work.”

John shrugged. “Scuff them up as much as you like. When they get bad again, I can just touch them up. Good as new.”

Smitty let the offer sink in. Not only was John saying he’d paint them again—he was saying he’d be sticking around long enough to do so whenever Smitty wanted. And that…

That meant something.

John was reaching out to Smitty, this time. He was asking him to hang on.

Maybe it was a stupid time to realize it. But now that John had stopped running away, Smitty could finally catch up. And standing by his side, holding the proof of his care—it just all hit him at once.

Smitty loved him.

Oh, fuck.

Time doesn’t stop moving. The world doesn’t end. Everything stayed exactly the same, and yet, everything had changed. 

“You mind if I stay for your practice?” John asked, blissfully unaware of Smitty’s revelation. “Jess is going to be at the rest of my practices up until the competition, so…you can’t really swing by those anymore.”

Smitty was too dazed to fully grasp everything John was saying. “Uh…yeah, sure. The guys’ll be happy to have you.”

“What, and you won’t be?” John teased.

Smitty rolled his eyes as butterflies fluttered against his rib cage, breaking in his bones and making their home there. “And I will also be happy to have you. I thought that was a given.”

John smiled and Smitty ached and it was all so terribly perfect which only hurt more—because Smitty knew it was all about to come crashing down around him. 

It always did. 

***

Smitty had always loved with his whole heart. He fell too quickly, too readily. Once he realized his feelings, he couldn’t shut them off—and until he did something about them, they became all consuming.

Falling for John was no different.

He kept going through it in his head—how obvious it all seemed. He wondered if John knew of his feelings before he did, if he’d known all along. 

The biggest thing eating at him was wondering if John felt the same.

There were signs, sure. Signs Smitty’d been blatantly disregarding for the sake of his sanity. But they could’ve all added up to nothing. Smitty had a bad habit of over analyzing every little thing, and he didn’t want to do that here. John meant too much to him for him to fuck this all up.

He wasn’t a hopeless romantic, per say—more of a hopeful one. But that meant he could be naive, and that led to him getting his heart broken more times than he could count. And he was so afraid of that cycle repeating that he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to find out how John felt about him after all.

After practice, after what felt like hours, Smitty called Matt. He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, what’s up?”

If he was going to tell anyone—he was going to tell Matt. He took a deep breath, and held it. 

And then, the truth. “...I love him.”

It got quiet, then. Too quiet. Smitty wanted to rip out his heart and make Matt fix it somehow, wanted to make him take out every piece of him that loved.

“I’m coming over.”

Chapter Text

The night before John’s competition arrived faster than Smitty had anticipated.

Sure, he’d only been living with his big revelation for a measly three days—but he’d foolishly believed those three days would’ve been enough time for him to figure out what to do. No such luck.

He didn’t even get to talk to John that much. Not one-on-one, anyway. John showed up for their practices, but he didn’t have time for much else, so Smitty really only got to interact with him in a group with the rest of his team.

Which was fine—it was good, even. He liked seeing everyone warm up to John, and seeing John become more comfortable around them made Smitty feel amazing. It was all going exactly how Smitty wanted it to.

Everything except the whole falling in love thing.

He hadn’t said much to Matt about it when he came over Monday. Matt didn’t press. He could tell Smitty hadn’t had the words. He still didn’t.

So he and Matt just drank shitty beer and watched equally shitty movies. It was what they always did when whatever was going on was too big to talk about.

It was what they did when Matt first found out about Smitty befriending John. Smitty wondered if Matt had just been waiting for him to realize how he really felt ever since that moment.

It made Smitty feel stupid when he thought about it, how he was clearly playing a game of catch up when everybody else seemed to already hold the answers.

But he was happy, damn it. He really, really was. He was sitting with his closest friends and his newest friend after a really good practice and they all got along. They were laughing and smiling and Smitty was happy.

So what if he’d lost a couple night’s sleep over John? John didn’t need to know that. Nobody did.

But then the group got silent, and Smitty didn’t need to turn his head to the door to know who just walked in.

Jess. Right on time.

She’d been showing up around the time John used to these past few days. She’d been showing up to make sure John wasn’t replacing skating with the things he actually enjoyed.

Maybe that wasn’t fair. Did she even know what he enjoyed? Had John ever told her?

John sighed, gathering his things. “Later, guys.”

“Aw, no dude!” Rectrixx whined. “I just realized—this is the last practice we're gonna have you around for!”

Smitty tensed. Rectrixx was right. Their practice tomorrow was cancelled because of the competition— John’s competition—and after that…

After that, John would be gone.

John only shrugged. Like he didn’t even care. Like his impending departure didn’t affect him in the slightest.

“I’ll still see you all tomorrow,” John said. “I’m holding you to your word that you’ll be there.”

“You kidding?” Grizzy asked, mock offended. “You’ve been gloating about how easily you’re going to win the whole thing all week—boasting about how you’re the best there is. Smitty won’t shut up about how talented you are either. I ain’t missing this shit for the world.”

John smirked. “Well, I’ll be sure to put on a good show then. Gotta live up to my reputation ‘n all.”

“Isn’t your reputation, like…terrible?” Matt asked. “No offense.” 

John laughed. “No, yeah. It definitely is. But no one’s ever had anything bad to say about my skating.”

“Time to put your money where your mouth is, John,” Puffer said, a glint in his eye. “Are you really as good as you say?”

That lit a spark behind John’s eyes, a light that matched Puffer’s. “I’m better."

And with that, he left, moving to go meet up with Jess. Jess, who was glaring daggers at them and not even trying to hide it. Jess, who was on the complete opposite side of the rink, treating the members of Froghouse like they had the goddamn plague.

Jess, who was just a little too much like John in ways that stung when Smitty thought about it for too long.

“God, she’s scary,” Rectrixx said, suppressing a shiver.

Maybe, Smitty thought. But maybe she was hurting too. Hurting in all the same ways John was. Both of them destroying themselves for a dream that died too long ago to ever get back.

Based on the way Droid frowned and looked away, he was thinking the same thing.

***

Before Smitty could pull out of the rink’s parking lot, Matt plopped himself in the passenger seat of his car, acting nonchalant. They definitely didn’t ride here together, so why Matt wasn’t sitting in his own damn car was anybody’s guess.

“Uhhhh, can I help you?” Smitty asked.

“You really aren’t gonna tell him?”

Oh. So that’s what this was.

Smitty tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

Smitty threw his hands up, exacerbated. “What difference does it make?” he asked. “Why do you even care, anyway? You think love is bullshit.”

Matt shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. “I know I can be…cynical, when it comes to this sorta thing. But this isn’t about me, is it? It’s about you.”

“…Just forget it, Matt. I’m not telling him.”

Matt frowned. “Is it because he’s a guy?”

God. They were really doing this, huh? Smitty supposed they had to, at some point.

“No, it’s not because—” Matt looked at him, unimpressed. “Okay, like…it may be a small factor. I’ve never been with a guy before, I think I’m allowed to be a little nervous about the idea.”

“I wasn’t trying to—obviously that’s fine, Smitty,” Matt said. “I’m just trying to figure this out. Are you worried he doesn’t feel the same? Because, lemme tell you—I was already pretty sure after the party, but the skates—”

Smitty rolled his eyes. “You guys have got to stop giving me shit about the skates.”

His friends went kinda crazy seeing the paint job John did on Smitty’s skates. Which was fair, they were insane, and everybody loved them—but it was also a pretty big gesture from John that was hard to ignore. Even if most of his team didn’t understand exactly who John was to Smitty, they knew enough about John to glean he wouldn’t do this for just anyone.

So they teased him for it. A lot. John too. Puffer was still asking where his new skates were.

Well, everyone teased him except for Droid, who’d only complimented them and moved on. Matt hadn’t said anything about them either, actually, up until now.

“I’m just saying,” Matt tried. “He seems pretty into you.”

“...It’s so hard to tell how he feels about anything, let alone me,” Smitty admitted. “I don’t always know when he’s being serious. His ‘I’m just fucking with you’ voice is exactly the same as his ‘this is the most vulnerable and honest I have ever been with you’ voice. But that’s not why I haven’t told him.”

“Then why?” Matt sounded desperate. “Why do you always do this to yourself?”

Smitty blinked, caught off guard. “What? Do what?”

Matt looked frustrated, a crease between his eyebrows. “Smitty. You are the only person I know who believes in love. Like actually, truly believes in it. You are such a hopeless romantic it’s not even funny.”

“I’m not—”

“Please don’t give me that bullshit about you being ‘a hopeful one’ or whatever, because we both know that’s not true.”

Smitty grimaced, feeling defiant. “I’m not hopeless.”

Something in Matt snapped. “Look at yourself!”

Smitty could’ve, if he wanted to. He caught the rearview mirror in the corner of his vision. It felt like it was taunting him, daring him to chance a glance at his reflection.

Smitty didn’t look. He didn’t have to. He already knew. 

He knew how dark the circles under his eyes were. He knew he was more fidgety than normal. He knew his hair was as disheveled as his clothes. He knew, he knew, he knew.

But he thought he’d been doing a good job hiding it. He thought he kept his smiles wide enough to hide his fraying edges. He thought his laughter was loud enough to drown out the sound of his misery. He thought, he thought, he thought.

He’d worked so hard, and for what? He’d even been doing good in practice. Better than good, actually—he’d been fucking killing it lately. (No one needed to know that he was doing so well because he was desperately trying to impress a certain someone. Though, it seemed some people already did). That alone should’ve been enough to keep everyone off his back. It worked for Droid. 

But not him. Never him.

Why couldn’t he just keep it the fuck together?

“I know you haven’t been sleeping. You probably haven't been eating well either. This is exactly what I’m talking about—you act like love is this beautiful, magical thing that can solve anything but the moment you think you might’ve finally found it for yourself you do everything in your power to shove your feelings down. You are so concerned about how the other person might feel that you only ever take them into account, forgetting yourself entirely. I am so tired of watching you treat yourself like you don’t matter!”

Smitty crossed his arms over his chest, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. It was the only thing he could do to steady himself.

“...I get it, okay?” Smitty hated how small he sounded. “I have shitty self esteem and I should probably go easier on myself. My feelings get so big that they get out of my control and the only way I can feel that control again is by stuffing all those stupid feelings back inside and it never works because they always just come spilling out anyway. I fucking get it. I wish I wasn’t like this either.”

Matt’s face fell. “I don’t wish you were different, man. I just wish you could see yourself the way everyone else does.” His voice cracked and he swallowed, looking away. “I wish you loved yourself even a fraction of the amount you love other people. I wish you believed you deserved to be happy.”

He wished, he wished, he wished. 

Smitty shrugged, for lack of anything better to do. There was a part of him that missed when he and Matt didn’t talk about things like this. 

When had that changed?

How hadn’t he noticed just how quickly everything was changing?

After a long pause, Matt could only offer, “I’m sorry.”

Smitty stared at the hem of his shorts, picking at a loose thread. It was probably too cold out to still be wearing shorts. It was going to start snowing soon.

“...You’re right. I do believe in love. Stupidly, and despite everything, I still do.” Smitty sighed. “But belief alone isn’t enough. I know I have problems. Being with John isn’t gonna suddenly fix that. The same way me loving him doesn’t fix anything for him. Love can’t solve everything. And, in this case—him knowing might only make things worse.”

The truth was, love hurt.

He’s reminded of Matt’s first boyfriend, who Matt was so sure he loved. He was certain that love went both ways. He was so certain that he trusted him with everything.

But that asshole betrayed that trust, not only breaking Matt’s heart, but ruining his life too. Matt would never admit it, but he could never completely trust anyone after that. He hasn’t approached relationships the same way since.

Love breaks things.

He thought of John and Jess, too. How John’s love for her was so big he’d given her everything. His whole life was for her. The same way Jess’s life revolved entirely around John. Two planets stuck in orbit, unable to reach out to the stars. 

They were trapped together, as if one couldn’t survive without the other. Completely codependent.

Love takes.

“So…you don’t want to tell him because it could potentially make things harder for him?” Matt asked.

Smitty’s car felt too small. There wasn’t enough air in here.

“If he didn’t feel the same it’d just be a burden on him,” Smitty said. “And if he did, what then? He’s leaving the day after tomorrow. I barely get to see him now because of how busy he is. You really think he could do long distance?” Matt chewed on his lip. He knew Smitty was right. “There isn’t enough room for me in his fucked up schedule. The only way I fit is as a friend.”

“...And you’re okay with that?” Matt whispered. “Just being his friend?”

Smitty clenched his fists and set his jaw, determined. “I have to be.”

Matt scratched his cheek, contemplative. “You wanna know what I think?” Smitty looked up from his shorts, meeting Matt’s eye. “I think you aren’t giving John enough credit.”

Smitty scoffed. “Credit? For what?”

“He’s not the same guy who ran into Rectrixx and refused to apologize. He’s your friend. He’s friends with all of us, now.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is, he cares about you. He cares what you think, and how you feel,” Matt stated. “I think he’d want to know, is all. I think it might surprise you how much that’d mean to him. How much you mean to him.”

Smitty rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve done anything special. We get along, but he—”

“He was alone. And hurting. You said he had, what, two friends before you? Now he has all of us, too. People he can count on. You did that. You gave that to him. I never saw him smile until I saw him around you. Smitty—you make him happy.” Smitty felt a pang in his chest. “No, love isn’t some magical cure-all fix. But, don’t you get it?” He really, really didn’t. Matt didn’t continue until Smitty shook his head. “The way you’ve loved him may have been the thing that finally set him free.”

…Free?

John wasn’t free. Everything he did was meticulously planned down to the minute.

But…Smitty wasn’t in the plan. And John stuck by him anyway.

John’s been laughing louder lately. He’s been making jokes. He’s been spending the only moments of free time he had at Smitty’s side.

He let Smitty attend his practices. He came to Smitty’s games. He felt more comfortable breaking the rigid rules he’d been following for half of his life.

John had always been a whole person. But Smitty had the honor of meeting more and more of him each time he worked to peel back the layers John had built up over years. John was letting Smitty know him. 

All of him. Even the bad parts.

Love could hurt, and it could break things, and it could take.

But love could give, too. Love could help. Love could heal.

Love could be kind.

“Smitty?” Matt’s voice had an edge of panic laced into it. “Shit—I’m sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset.”

Smitty gave him a weak smile. “I’m not upset.”

“...You’re crying.”

Smitty reached a hand up to his eyes. Oh—yeah. He was crying.

“N-no, this is…” He wasn’t sure what this was, actually. “This is good, I think.”

Matt nodded, grabbing Smitty’s water bottle from the cup holder and passing it over. “Thanks,” Smitty said, taking a drink.

“You okay?” Matt asked.

“I…don’t know,” Smitty admitted. “I’ll think about it. Telling him, I mean. But…you’ve gotta understand that this is still a difficult decision for me. I…I just don’t know if I can.”

Matt tried for a supportive smile. “It’s your choice Smitty,” he said. “Please just promise me that whatever you decide, you choose it because it’s what you want. You’re allowed to want, you know.”

Matt didn’t get it. What Smitty really, truly wanted—a thought he’d been pushing down even more than his feelings—was simply too selfish to ever ask for.

He wanted John to stay.

“...I promise.”

***

The rink was packed. Smitty’d never seen it this crowded in all his time playing here.

He didn’t take it personally. John and Pezzy were huge deals who were out there winning national competitions against the best of the best. Froghouse frequently played against a team who got so high before games that it was honestly a hazard. Smitty knows which event he’d rather watch.

“You text John yet?” Puffer asked.

Smitty nodded. “Yeah, he knows we’re here. I don’t think we’ll be able to talk to him til after the competition though.”

John mentioned Jess was overly strict on competition days. Smitty didn’t know how it was possible for her to get any stricter.

“Aight, let's find our seats then,” Grizzy said. “Smitty, you got the tickets?”

“Yeah, here.”

Smitty started handing out everyone’s tickets. After he passed the last one to Droid, he felt his phone buzz. He blinked at the notification.

John🌻

u have the keys to the locker room, right?

Technically, Puffer did. But Smitty could probably convince him to hand them over, so he just responded with, Yeah why?

John🌻

meet me there in 5?

Smitty didn’t even hesitate. “Puffer, can I borrow your keys for a sec? I left my water bottle in the locker room.”

Puffer frowned. “Didn’t you have it yesterday? We haven’t even gone in the locker room since last game, man.”

Shit. “No, I know. Not my red one, I left my spare one behind.”

“And you’re only just remembering now?”

Smitty huffed. “Dude, can I have the keys or not?”

Puffer stared at him for a while, but eventually he just shook his head, probably deciding that this whole thing wasn’t worth any more of his time. “Whatever.” He tossed the keys in Smitty’s direction. Smitty caught them easily. “Just hurry back.”

The tiny pufferfish keychain attached to the ring holding all Puffer’s keys together dug into Smitty’s palm. Smitty got him that keychain years ago. The design had long since faded, and some of the spikes had broken off, but he still kept it. He kept it because Smitty got it for him.

As Smitty turned to leave, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of guilt seep through his skin. He’d stop lying to Puffer soon—really, he would. He just had to figure out how to stop lying to himself, first.

He got to the locker room and had to take a second to find the right key. He sorted through Puffer’s house key, then his car key, then—there. Locker room key.

With slightly shaky hands he opened the door and stepped inside. Evan would be pissed if he knew he was in here during a non-hockey related event, using it for non-hockey related reasons.

Good thing Evan didn’t need to know.

Smitty paced restlessly as he waited for John to show. When the door finally opened, he froze, half worried it would be someone else and half worried it would be exactly who he expected.

John was the one who walked through. When Smitty saw him, his breath caught in his throat, rendering him speechless.

John looked…he looked…

He was in a long sleeve mesh top that was covered in about a million small embroidered flowers. The field of roses and daisies and vines stretched across the expanse of his skin, with only a few small gaps here and there which looked both random and intentionally placed at the same time. Making this must’ve taken John months. Maybe longer.

He wore pristine white slacks, completely undecorated, presumably not to detract any attention from his shirt—the very obvious focal point. He wasn’t wearing his skates yet, but Smitty could pick out the flowers that were the same color pink he’d grown so used to. It was all so…it was just…

Smitty finally met John’s eyes, and god, he loved him. He fucking loved him, and—

And his eyeshadow was a brilliant, blinding gold.

Suddenly, Smitty’s reminded of golden eyes shining in a field of white, of makeup ruined from tears. He was living in a dream, but his nightmare still seemed to be lingering in the back of his mind, haunting him.

But the creeping sense of dread he felt dissipated the second John collapsed into his arms, like he was a soldier returning from a fucking war.

Like he was coming home.

Smitty pushed the thought away. It was one of those dumb, hopeless ideas—the thought that Smitty could be anything like home for him.

John exhaled, holding onto Smitty a little tighter. “I missed you.”

Smitty laughed. “I saw you yesterday.”

And the day before yesterday. And the day before that. Actually—Smitty’d hung out with John every day since they became friends.

How was he supposed to go back to days without John?

John pulled back, keeping one hand just above Smitty’s collarbone and using the other to brush Smitty’s hair out of his face.

Why did he do that? Why the fuck did he just do that?

“I know, but…you know what I mean,” John said, voice barely above a whisper, like he was confessing something. “Your friends are great, but I’ve missed this. I like it when it’s just us.”

John was going to kill him. What an asshole.

Smitty needed to talk about literally anything else. “Dude, this shirt is crazy. You made this?”

Smitty, who was wearing a hoodie under an oversized coat with jeans that barely fit, was beginning to feel a bit underdressed.

John smiled and looked away, the tips of his ears going red. “Yeah, um. Yeah. I’ve been working on it pretty much any chance I could get for the past year. I started it when I went overseas—I wanted to wear it for the first competition I did when I got back. Which is, uh, this one. So…yeah.”

It’s cute when he’s shy.

“It’s amazing, John.”

Without really meaning to, Smitty placed a hand on John’s chest, letting his fingertips lightly sweep across the stitching. He was so mesmerized by the texture and the artistry that he didn’t notice the way John tensed, his breath becoming shallow.

“S-Smitty.”

It sounded like a warning. John’s voice was rough around the edges in a way that made Smitty’s throat go dry.

It also brought him back to reality long enough to give him the awareness of what exactly he was doing. Friends don’t usually go around lovingly caressing their other friend’s chests, now do they?

Smitty’s brain started screaming.

He shoved John off him, hard. Which only seemed to make matters worse—because John’s face fell before he could figure out how to mask the hurt and confusion, and the look in his eyes made Smitty’s glass heart shatter, the jagged pieces of it cutting up his insides.

John was glowing bright red. Smitty doubted he was fairing any better.

“Sorry! S-sorry, I didn’t mean…” I didn’t mean to push you away. I meant everything before that, though. If I told you that, would you hate me? “I’m sorry. I was just, uh…admiring the…craftsmanship?”

Smitty should just kill himself. Save himself the embarrassment. 

“Y-yeah, right,” John managed. “I should…I should probably go. Competition’s starting soon.”

Smitty felt himself nodding. Him and John had been so close to each other just a moment ago. Now they were worlds apart.

“Sure.” Smitty cleared his throat. “Um. Good luck. Not that you need it.”

John smirked, and, just like that, it was as if nothing happened between them at all. “Thanks, Smit. It means a lot to me that you’re here.”

Smitty shrugged. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Smitty wasn’t sure how long he stood in the locker room after John left. He just knew that he was suspended in a moment of time, unable to move, unable to think.

Eventually he’s able to get his bearings enough to head back to his friends. He barely remembered to lock the door behind him as he went, his mind hazy and unclear. It felt like someone stuffed his brain full of cotton balls.

“Hey,” Puffer greeted once Smitty found his way to his seat. Smitty dropped the keys in Puffer’s open hand. “...Where’s your water bottle?”

Smitty slouched down in his spot next to Droid. Droid flashed him a concerned look, but Smitty pretended he didn’t see it.

“Couldn’t find it,” Smitty lied. “Must’ve lost it somewhere else.”

***

“Wait—what do you mean he’s gonna go twice?” Matt asked.

“They’re all going to go twice,” Smitty explained. “There’s a short program that’s like…two-ish minutes and a long program that’s around four minutes. They’re scored differently, I think—or have different requirements or something. I don’t know—John explained it way better, but the gist of it is that everybody goes twice, they get two scores, and whoever’s total score is highest wins.”

John really only cared about the long program, Smitty knew. For this competition, at least. That was the one he got to use his own song for. Smitty rarely ever saw him practicing the short program part of his routine. He didn’t talk about it much, either. It was an afterthought, almost. He was putting everything he had into the finale.

One last dance.

If only.

Matt hummed. “And why is the waiting area called the kiss and cry again?” 

Droid’s leg was bouncing up and down rapidly. He was probably itching to infodump about all the finer points and specifics, but he kept quiet. He could explain the rules easily, Smitty’s sure—but it wouldn’t be as easy to explain why he knew the intricacies of figure skating so intimately. 

“Dude, shut up,” Rectrixx said. “I think it’s starting.”

Sure enough, the crowd began a round of applause as the first skater entered the ice. Silence washed over the rink as they hit their mark, and soon after the music swelled, the skater was off.

***

All of the performances for the first round were great, don’t get Smitty wrong. Everyone was incredibly talented. But no one had even come close to John’s skill level.

Whoever decided on the order of the roster knew exactly what they were doing. Pezzy and John were slated to go last, one right after the other, the two skaters almost everybody was here for. The room was brimming with anticipation, the energy growing more electric with every passing minute.

And then, finally, it was time.

“Pezzy’s up next,” Droid said.

“That’s John’s friend, right?” Grizzy asked.

Droid flinched, almost imperceptible. They shouldn’t know Pezzy as John’s friend. They should know him as Droid’s boyfriend.

Smitty saw a hint of regret pass through Droid’s eyes. If they knew who he was, they’d be here for Pezzy to support him just as much as (if not more than) John. But as it was, they’d be watching a stranger.

A stranger Droid loved more than anything. A stranger they might’ve gotten to know pretty well over the course of two years, if Droid hadn’t kept him a secret.

And it’s not his fault, but Smitty doesn’t know how to convey that without giving everything away, so all he did was smile and hope Droid could read between the lines.

Droid smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. John’s friend.”

Smitty wanted to say something, anything— but Pezzy made his way on the ice, and the applause was deafening—and what could Smitty have said, anyway?

A hush fell over the crowd once more, and Smitty diverted his focus to the performance.

He’d heard how good Pezzy was, but he’d never actually seen it.

It was mind-blowing. No wonder this was John’s biggest rival—the tricks he did looked like he was pulling off miracles.

Pezzy looked like he belonged there. He was beaming, and bold, and he took the air out of the room with every leap.

He was born to do this—and he knew it too. He exuded confidence. Nothing could stop him. Nothing could get between him and doing the thing he loved.

He really loved this, didn’t he?

Smitty snuck a glance in Droid’s direction. Droid was trying his best to bite back a smile and failing miserably. Smitty couldn’t help but match his expression as he turned back to the performance.

At least they get to be happy.

Before Smitty knew it, Pezzy’s short program ended, and the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. It was the loudest it had been all night.

Shortly after, Pezzy’s score is revealed. It’s no surprise when it’s the highest one yet. The first to break 100, even if just by a hair.

Now it was John’s turn.

Distantly, he could hear his friend’s excited whispers as John stepped onto the ice, but it all seemed so far away he couldn’t make out the words. All he could focus on was John.

The skates really did complete the look. He wondered how long John had thought of making this specific costume. How long had this just been an idea floating around aimlessly in his head? Why did he decide now was the time he needed to wear it?

All those flowers, all in different stages of bloom. What stage was John in? Would he finally be able to thrive, or would he wilt under all the pressure?

The music starts, and John moves, and Smitty couldn’t look away if he tried.

Time slowed, gooey and languid and malleable in John’s grasp. The audience was rapt. John had drawn them all in and, for this moment and this moment alone, John seemed to hold the world in the palm of his hand.

He appeared to be in complete control. But Smitty knew of the invisible strings that were pulling him into place, dictating his every move. 

He knew who was really in control here. And it had never been John.

When it was over, the response was deafening. Smitty’s ears were ringing by the end of it.

“Holy shit—he wasn’t lying,” Puffer said. “He’s insane.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Rectrixx agreed, a bit starstruck. “Was the song that was playing the one he made?”

Smitty shook his head. “No, his song is gonna play for the next part. He worked way harder on the free skate—the long program. He didn’t really practice much for that first bit.”

Grizzy’s jaw dropped. “That was the part he didn’t practice for?”

“He’s amazing, isn’t he?” Smitty muttered, mostly talking to himself.

That was the worst part. How amazing he was at the thing that was tearing him apart. How could he possibly ever even consider quitting when he was the best of the best? 

Even if he hated it. Even if it hurt. He felt like he couldn’t give it up. Not for anything.

Definitely not for Smitty.

John’s short program score is announced, a few points ahead of Pezzy’s, but not by much. If Smitty didn’t know any better, he’d say it was anybody’s game. But he did know. He knew John wouldn’t let that happen.

He couldn’t let that happen. 

Smitty could tell John he didn’t need to be perfect all he liked, but nothing would change until John believed that for himself.

Smitty’s mind turned blurry again. He didn’t regain focus until Pezzy was back for his free skate.

It was incredible, of course it was. But Smitty couldn’t bring himself to feel the same joy as he did before. He just felt tired.

Then, around three minutes in, disaster struck.

Pezzy tripped.

The crowd gasped. Droid grabbed Smitty’s arm tightly, taking a sharp breath. Smitty put his hand over Droid’s, trying to comfort him but knowing it wouldn’t be enough.

Pezzy’s recovery was smooth and quick, but it was too late. The damage to his score had been done. He wasn’t competing against John anymore. He could only compete for second.

Pezzy’s smile never faltered, but Smitty could tell his confidence was shot.

“Fuck,” Droid whispered.

“It’s okay,” Smitty whispered back, even though it wasn’t. “He’s fine. He didn’t fall.”

“...He’s going to be beating himself up for weeks over that.”

Smitty just gave Droid’s hand a squeeze.

The second Pezzy got off the ice, his expression dropped, leaving something sour behind. Smitty watched as Pezzy’s eyes raked across the sea of people in the rink, searching for something. 

Or rather, some one.

When Pezzy met Droid’s eyes, his smile returned. It wasn’t as bright as before, sure—but it was enough. Knowing Droid was there for him was the only thing he needed. The medals were just a bonus. Winning meant nothing if he had to do it alone.

“Do you think John’s friend is gonna be alright?” Rectrixx asked. 

John’s friend. Not Droid’s boyfriend.

Droid worried his lip. “...I don’t know.”

“It sucks, but he’ll bounce back,” Smitty stated. “I’m sure of it.”

Droid turned furious. “You don’t even know him!”

Smitty’s eyes widened. “Droid…”

“Dude,” Matt started, concerned. “Are you okay?”

Droid crossed his arms. Smitty knew he wasn’t, just as much as he knew he’d never admit that out loud.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” Droid lied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Matt looked like he wanted to say more, to press further, but he didn’t get the chance. John was up, and the noise of the crowd drowned out anything Matt could’ve said.

Smitty pushed the Pezzy problem aside for now. Not much he could do here anyway.

Besides, watching John made it easy to forget about everything else. It was like there was no one else in the room but him, his surroundings fading away as he became the center of attention.

Smitty’d heard this song a hundred times. He’d seen John skate to it before.

But this—this was different. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why, exactly, but he could feel it.

There was this sense of finality to it. Smitty would never get to see this performance again. Whether he liked it or not, this was the last time.

John would perform again, yeah. But it wouldn’t be to this song, with this choreography, with that shirt. It wouldn’t be the performance that belonged entirely to him. Every piece of this was John.

For the first time, Smitty saw the strings loosen. They allowed him this, at least, going slack and letting John decide the direction.

It wasn’t freedom, not entirely. But it was pretty damn close. 

Every time Smitty saw John skate, his eyes were always dead, his face blank. Now, though…now the emotion on his face was almost too much to bear.

Smitty felt it all. The pain, the fear—the hope. John let himself express it all, holding nothing back.

It was beautiful. 

…No—fuck that. 

He was beautiful. 

John. It had always been John.

Of course it was John. Smitty doesn’t know how he ever thought it was anything else.

The music concluded its final melancholic note, and that was that. John’s chest rose and fell as he held his hand up to the sky. He must be exhausted. Physically and emotionally. Smitty would bet that that was the most earnest performance John had ever done.

It wasn’t for the fans, or the cameras, or even for Jess. It was just for him. He did it for himself.

“...Jesus Christ,” Grizzy said once the crowd had finally settled. “So, like…he won, right? There’s no way he didn’t just win.”

“I mean, they still have to give him a score, but…yeah,” Smitty mumbled. “He always said he would, y’know? But…wow. That was…something else.”

He should stop talking. His thoughts were too jumbled to form proper sentences.

Puffer whistled, low and impressed. “Seriously.”

Pezzy got relatively close to John’s score in the end, but even if he hadn’t tripped he probably couldn’t’ve surpassed him. His free skate had blown everyone out of the water.

John stood on the highest platform on the podium, Pezzy at his side, with the third skater, Sovi, completing the lineup.

One of the judges draped their respective medals over their heads. Pezzy was smiling. John wasn’t.

Pezzy’s smile dipped once the award ceremony concluded, when the cameras finally stopped flashing. He pulled John and Sovi in for quick hugs, presumably congratulating them.

“...Pezzy’s still upset,” Droid said.

He said it like he was going to do something about it.

“What’s your deal with Pezzy, man?” Matt asked. “Do you know him or something?”

Droid stood abruptly. Too sudden. Too abnormal.

“I’m sorry.” Droid turned to face the group, his breath coming a little too quick. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Please don’t hate me.”

Droid started running. He was running toward Pezzy.

“Yo—what the hell?!” Puffer leapt out of his seat. “Droid, wait!”

Smitty grabbed his sleeve before he could take off after Droid. Puffer looked appalled.

“Let him go,” Smitty said.

“...What’s he doing?”

He’s going to tell the truth.

“Just watch.”

Puffer was skeptical, but he sat back down, watching the events unfold. Smitty heard a few confused murmurs in the audience, some of them pointing at Droid as he got closer and closer to closing that gap between him and Pezzy.

Pezzy saw him too, eventually. Inevitably.

He stared at Droid, dumbfounded, unable to take his eyes off him for even a moment. 

Pezzy started saying something once Droid reached him, but Droid shut him up with a kiss.

He kissed him where the world could see. He kissed him without caring who was watching, or what they thought. He kissed him because he loved him and needed him to know.

For the tiniest fraction of a second, everything went quiet. You could hear a pin drop. 

Then the rink erupted.

Cheers and screams and squeals, followed by rapturous applause. The photographers who’d just begun wrapping things up quickly turned their lenses on the scene, eager to capture the moment.

“...Smitty,” Puffer said. “What the fuck is going on?”

Puffer was the only one to ask anything out loud, but Smitty could tell all his friends were looking to him for answers. Answers that weren’t his to share.

“...I think it’s better if Droid tells you.”

“Is Droid dating—”

“Just—” Smitty sighed. “Look, I know. You can make him explain everything later, okay? But…right now, he’s really happy. Shouldn’t we just be happy with him?”

Puffer looked back out at the two of them. Smitty followed his gaze. Droid had picked Pezzy up and started to spin him around as they both laughed and laughed and laughed.

John caught Smitty’s eye. He was finally smiling, basking in his friend’s joy. The smile was small, and bittersweet, but it was there all the same.

John glanced in Smitty’s direction, but when he saw Smitty looking back he averted his gaze, choosing to stare at the ground instead. Smitty couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing.

I want what they have with you.

***

Most of the people had filed out of the rink by now, leaving only a few stragglers behind. The skaters went back to the kiss and cry with their coaches. Droid stuck by Pezzy. Smitty doubted Droid felt ready to face his friends. Dealing with the prying interviewers that crawled out of the woodwork and swarmed him and his boyfriend probably seemed easier, in his head.

But none of them were leaving without talking to Droid, so they were sticking around for the time being.

Smitty watched John and Jess, trying not to be too obvious about it. John was nodding along to whatever she was saying, his eyes glazed over like some kind of zombie. He didn’t move much, but every time he did it was stiff and robotic.

All that emotion he’d just shown during his performance, and just like that, he’d shut his feelings right back off again.

John nodded one final time before Jess turned on her heel and left. John stood perfectly still, waiting until she stepped outside, then waiting some more. Once he was certain she wouldn’t return, he started walking in the opposite direction Jess went, toward the back exit.

“Hey, I should catch up with John,” Smitty said, addressing the group. “You guys stay and wait for Droid.”

“You sure?” Grizzy asked.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I already know what’s going on with Droid and Pezzy and I really don’t think John should be alone right now.”

Grizzy shrugged. Rectrixx just gave him a thumbs up. Puffer and Matt sent him looks he refused to interpret.

He made his way to the old metal door at the back of the building. It creaked as he pushed it open, a rush of cold air biting at his skin.

Smitty found John sitting against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest and his head down.

Smitty let the heavy door close on its own, opting to slide off his coat instead. He gently placed it over John’s crumpled form, taking a seat beside him. 

“Tell me what you need,” Smitty started. “I can stay or I can go. We can talk or not. You just have to tell me.”

John lifted his head. His tear tracks were made visible by black stripes of running mascara, and Smitty hated the way his eyes matched exactly to the ones he saw in his dream.

The dream where Smitty had to push John away.

“It’s like—” John’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I did everything right. I always do everything right—and yet, somehow, she can only ever tell me what I did wrong.”

“What’d she say?”

John shook his head, staring straight ahead at nothing but the night. “It’s more like what she didn’t? The only things she had to say to me after my routine were criticisms. ‘Tighten up your rotations, keep your legs straight when you land,’ shit like that. I don’t know why I thought…I just thought she’d finally get it, you know? I really fucking believed, for some stupid fucking reason, she would see me tonight, and she would…” He pressed his palms over his eyes. “Fuck, I don’t know. I thought she’d at least say she was proud of me. She usually does. But not for this, not when I—when I’m actually trying to say something.”

“I’m sorry,” Smitty whispered. “But I don’t think she didn’t get it. I think she just isn’t willing to listen. Not when it’s something she doesn’t wanna hear.”

“...I actually felt good out there. For the first time in years, it felt good to skate. It was good because it was mine. And she can’t take that away.” John leveled his gaze at Smitty, determined. “I’ve never wanted anything for myself. Never thought I would. So I let her have everything, because I didn’t think…I’ve never bothered living my life because I didn’t think I deserved to. But, now…now I know. It’s my life. I get to do whatever I please with it. I do deserve that. I think I owe it to myself, really. I’ve finally realized that I don’t have to prove myself to be worth something.” His eyes were so piercing—so bright and full and beautiful. “You made me realize that.”

This was it, Smitty thought. This was the part where Smitty was supposed to push him away, the part where he needed to save him from drowning.

Smitty understood it now, what that nightmare meant. He was afraid that if he stayed by John’s side, if he kept him in his life, he’d only drag him down. Smitty would pull him into the murky depths and they would drown together and it would be all Smitty’s fault.

But…that wasn’t true, was it? It never was.

This wasn’t life or death. It was just life. John didn’t need to be saved, he just needed someone who listened. Someone who cared enough to be there, even when things got hard. 

Smitty knew how to be that someone. He wanted to be that someone, more than anything.

So it felt like the easiest thing in the world to close the small gap of distance between them and kiss him.

It’s brief, and it wasn’t that much different from kissing a girl, except for John’s mustache brushing against him reminding him exactly who this was. It kinda tickled.

But when Smitty realized John wasn’t kissing him back, he pulled away, mortified. 

Oh god, he’d read this all wrong, hadn’t he? John didn’t want this, he’d just wanted a friend—and now he wasn’t even going to let Smitty be that, and…

John was looking at him with wide eyes and parted lips that Smitty was trying very hard not to stare at. He blinked at Smitty, calculating, like Smitty was an impossible math problem he’d almost cracked but the answers he came up with seemed too improbable to believe.

“Um…shit, I’m sorry. That was stupid, I shouldn’t’ve—” Smitty ran a hand through his hair, just to move, just to do something. “Just forget I did that.”

“Did you mean it?” John’s voice sounded so weak Smitty’s surprised it didn’t break.

He recognized an out when he saw one. Smitty could lie, could say he just did it because John was upset and he was only trying to make him feel better, or something. But that would be cruel.

Besides, Smitty was done lying. He’d always been terrible at it, anyway.

Smitty swallowed, trying not to think about how much what he was about to say would change things. “...Yeah.”

“Then I don’t want to forget.”

Smitty’s heart stuttered in his chest. It started beating so fast, thrashing against everything that kept it in its rightful place. It wanted to crawl out of his skin and land in John’s hands and stay there, and it took everything Smitty had to hold it back.

Slowly, cautiously, John reached out, his hand coming up to rest on Smitty’s cheek. He leaned in, ever so slightly, and Smitty met him halfway because he simply couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer.

The kiss wasn’t so brief, this time.

Smitty’s hands found their way into John’s hair and John’s hands moved to Smitty’s waist, pulling him in closer until Smitty was on top of him, his knees pressing against John’s hips and effectively pinning him against the wall.

John’s lips were soft, and his tongue was driving Smitty crazy in all the best ways—and when he sighed into Smitty’s mouth Smitty could feel the vibration of it thrum through his whole body like electricity. Distantly, Smitty hoped John didn’t mind how chapped his own lips were. But, based on the noises he was making, it didn’t seem John minded much at all.

Smitty was probably acting desperate, or needy, or a whole slew of other things. But he just couldn’t find it within himself to care. He’d take whatever John let him have.

John broke the kiss to catch his breath, and it took Smitty an insane amount of self control to not let out the most pathetic whine. Smitty started peppering kisses along John’s jawline and reveled in the way John’s breath hitched. He moved down to John’s neck and wondered if John would let him leave marks when suddenly he was grabbed by the shoulders and shoved away.

“Smit, wait.”

His breathing was ragged and his voice was doing things to Smitty that it maybe shouldn’t, but it wasn’t Smitty’s fault John sounded hot when he was like this. 

“S-sorry. Too much?”

Smitty could hear the edge in his own voice too, could hear how obvious he was being about how badly he wanted this. Wanted him.

He tried to crawl out of John’s lap to give him some space for a minute, but John just held him tighter to keep him in place. So Smitty stayed.

“It’s not that. I-It’s…” John wasn’t looking at Smitty anymore. Why couldn’t he look at him? “I can’t do this.”

Smitty’s whole body went cold.

John had started a fire in him, sending sparks through every point of contact they shared, and now that had all been snuffed out—and before he knew it he was plunging back into that horrible frozen lake made of his fears, turning him to ice.

Polar opposite sensations. It would’ve been jarring, if Smitty hadn’t gone completely numb.

“...Oh.”

“N-not because of you,” John rushed to say. “God, never because of you, Smitty.”

Smitty didn’t dare let himself hope. “Then, what?”

John finally met his eye, but when Smitty saw the look on his face he almost wished he didn’t. He was heartbroken. There was no other word for it. 

“...I’m leaving in the morning.”

Oh, right. Smitty’d completely forgotten. 

How the fuck had he forgotten?

The ice grew colder.

This time, Smitty successfully pulled away from John, shifting until they were sitting side by side again. This time, John didn’t stop him.

“So, what the hell do we do now?” Smitty asked, trying to keep the tone light and failing miserably.

“I don’t know,” John admitted helplessly. “...Maybe we could—no, never mind.”

“What?” John shook his head, but Smitty wasn’t going to accept that as an answer. “Maybe we could what, John?”

John picked at his nails. “It doesn’t solve anything. But what if…what if, just for tonight, we pretend?”

“Pretend? What, like…pretend this never happened, or—”

“No, not that. I mean, what if we pretended I wasn’t leaving?” That wasn’t a solution. That was just denial. “We could have this one night, just for us, to do whatever we wanted. And we don’t have to worry about not having enough time, because we’re going to act like we have forever. One perfect night that never ends.”

“But what happens when it does?”

“I don’t want to think about that yet. I don’t think you want to, either. That's why we’re pretending.”

Smitty’d been pretending for his whole life. He was born to play this role.

The only problem was, he was so sick of pretending.

He thought they’d finally found something real together, but now Smitty had to keep up an act he’d already fallen out of. Still…what was the alternative? Let John go? Sulk all night? It wasn’t like he had a lot of options.

Smitty looked up at the stars, picking out the brightest ones. Those always burned the fastest. Nothing so spectacular could shine forever, he supposed.

Nothing good ever lasts.

“Okay,” Smitty whispered, pretending this wasn’t tearing him apart. “Just for tonight.”

Chapter Text

This wasn’t working.

The glaring flaw with John’s plan was that, no matter what—no matter how much they pretended—they both knew they’d just be lying to themselves and each other about how this was all going to end.

And neither of them wanted to lie. So instead they’d just opted for dead silence.

Smitty could hear the distant chirping of crickets somewhere past the sound of the cars leaving the rink parking lot, turning onto the street that was just hidden from view. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but he and John had reached out to each other at some point, their hands sitting together between them with fingers interlaced. Smitty rubbed his thumb against the back of John's hand in a steady, rhythmic pattern, and wished things were different. 

He felt every second pass by in agony. He was too aware of time, of how little they had left. And he should do something, he should drag John out of here and drive him wherever he wants to go—spend this night talking and laughing and just enjoying each other’s company. But he couldn’t get himself to fucking move.

A loud creaking noise snapped Smitty out of his mind. It was the door. Smitty reflexively pulled his hand away from John’s, turning to see whoever joined them outside.

It was Pezzy.

“Hey, do you think you’re about ready to—” Pezzy halted as soon as he saw John’s face, still stained with mascara. “Oh, shit, John. What did she do now?”

Pezzy kneeled down, getting eye level with John, pulling the bag that rested on his side to his front. It was blue with white stripes, covered in signatures Smitty guessed were from other skaters—maybe with some hockey players thrown into the mix. 

Smitty scanned the various names in sharpie, looking for one in particular. He didn’t find Kryoz’s signature anywhere, but John’s name was written on the strap with a smiley face beside it. John never signed his name like that, but Smitty knew it was him. It felt meaningful, like John had decided he could be his true self around Pezzy at some point, and never looked back—writing it in ink.

Droid’s name was nowhere to be found.

As Pezzy rummaged through his bag, Smitty realized he had changed out of the feathery red and yellow costume he’d worn for the competition. In normal street clothes, Pezzy just seemed like a regular guy.

He wasn’t John’s mysterious best friend, or Droid’s mysterious boyfriend. He was the person right in front of him, holding out a packet of makeup wipes for John to take, helping his friend because he was just like anyone else.

“Don’t worry about it,” John said, taking the wipes and dragging one down his cheek. “You know how she is. But it’s fine. Smitty helped.”

Pezzy’s attention was diverted, able to focus on something else now that John seemed relatively okay. Smitty was suddenly very nervous about meeting him—Pezzy was incredibly important to both John and Droid, who were both incredibly important to Smitty. He could not fuck this up.

Pezzy smiled at him. It was so genuine Smitty couldn’t help but smile back, even if his was nowhere near as vibrant. His nerves settled.

“Ah, The Smitty, is it?” Pezzy asked. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Smitty said. 

“Oh my god, I have like a million questions for you. You would not believe how much John talks about you—”

“You’re not with Droid?” John asked, cutting Pezzy off.

Pezzy shot him a look, but relented. “No. He’s with your friends,” he said, nodding in Smitty’s direction. “Said he needed to talk to them, which—yeah. But he wanted to talk to them alone, so I came to check on you. Figured I could see if you were almost ready to head out.”

“...Why do you need to know when I’m ready to leave?”

Pezzy’s jaw fell open. “Dude, don’t tell me you forgot.” Smitty couldn’t tell if he was actually offended or just playing it up for the bit. “I rented out a whole ass bowling alley for you, me, and Droid to be able to hang out one last time before we left and you forgot!”

Smitty spotted the mirth dancing behind Pezzy’s pretend puppy dog eyes. So, not actually upset, then.

John rolled his eyes. “Yes, okay—I’m an asshole and I’ll never forgive myself. But, listen…I kinda just promised Smitty I’d hang with him. So…raincheck?”

Pezzy was completely undeterred. “Smitty can come!” 

Smitty’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh…”

“Would Droid be cool with that?” John asked.

“I don’t see why not. Droid’s closer to Smitty than he is to you. Why wouldn’t he want his friend around?”

“Because he only just came out to his friends about five seconds ago. Smitty’s only known for a few days,” John argued. “I don’t wanna put him in an uncomfortable situation. You guys go without us, you’ll have more fun without me there anyway.”

Pezzy shook his head vehemently. “Nuh-uh, no way. I hardly see you enough as it is, and it’s even harder to get the three of us together. You are not bailing. And you are bringing Smitty which I am sure will be fine with Droid.” He put a hand on Smitty’s shoulder, glaring at John. "You've had him all to yourself for long enough. And I get it, honeymoon phase and all—”

“Pezzy.” 

John’s voice was sharper than usual. Smitty knew why. This wasn’t a game anymore. It wasn’t funny anymore. Real feelings were on the line, and real stakes meant real pain. 

Pezzy could hear the difference. Or maybe he could feel it. Didn’t matter. He knew something was wrong.

“Sorry.” His hand fell limply to his side. He stared down at his shoes, frowning. “I just mean, it’d be really nice if I could hang with you properly before I go, Smitty. I’ve wanted to meet Droid’s friends forever, so it’d be cool if you could come. Only if you wanted. Didn’t mean to be pushy.”

John sighed. “You’re not pushy.”

Pezzy shrugged. Smitty looked between the two of them and understood. 

They had to go.

They had to go because Pezzy should get to meet a friend of Droid’s—he deserved to, he’d been waiting to for years. They had to go because John didn’t get to see his friends often and that wasn’t fair. They had to go because their alternative was to sit in the dark holding hands, hoping it never turned morning.

“...I think it sounds fun. If I really wouldn’t be intruding—”

Pezzy lit up again, just as bright as before. 

How did he do that? How did he bounce back so quickly?

“Not even a little bit.”

John turned to Smitty, his eyebrows pinched and his makeup fully removed. “Are you sure?”

Smitty managed a small smile. “Yeah, why not? Besides—” He faced Pezzy and let his smile grow wider. “I’ve been dying to meet you, too. Is it really true you almost beat John the very first time you went against him?”

Pezzy laughed. John scoffed.

“Y’know what’s funny? I actually believed I would beat him after that. I was just starting out, and John had already been at it for years, so surely he wouldn’t be able to keep up with me forever, right? But he just had to keep getting better. At this point he’s only doing it to spite me.” He frowned at John. “You could let me win just once you know. It wouldn’t kill you.”

“You’d be furious if I let you win.”

Pezzy huffed. “Well—yeah. But it’s the principle of the thing.”

“What principle?”

Warmth bloomed in Smitty’s chest watching the two of them interact. They reminded him of him and Matt. Best friends.

Even if John wouldn’t admit it, Smitty could tell. Pezzy meant the world to him. Pezzy was there when no one else was, and he stayed when no one else had. Pezzy chose to be John's friend—he had to fight for it. And he fought that fight over and over and over again because he believed John was worth it.

Smitty understood. He’d been fighting too.

“Whatever,” Pezzy said, moving to stand. “You guys coming or what?”

“I need to tell Puffer I’m not going back with him,” Smitty stated. “He drove me here.”

Pezzy worried his lip. “I would invite all your friends to go with us, but I think that might be too much. For both me and Droid. They seem really nice and everything, but I’m worried they might…”

Pezzy didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn't have to. He was scared. Meeting his boyfriend's friends was a big deal, of course he was nervous. First impressions are stressful, especially when it’s people you’re desperate to impress. 

“You don’t gotta explain,” Smitty said. “I get it, it’s a lot. For what it’s worth, though—I think you’ll get along with them just fine.”

Pezzy beamed. “Thanks.”

“They’re probably not gonna be done talking to Droid for a while,” John said. “I need to change, but then I’ll be good whenever.”

“Cool. Let’s wait inside, then.” Pezzy rubbed his hands over his arms. “It’s cold as fuck out here.”

“Sure.” John stood and offered his hand out for Smitty. 

Smitty allowed himself to be pulled up. “Thanks.”

John took a step forward to head inside, but Pezzy stopped him, hesitant. “Um…you might wanna give that back.” He pointed at the coat hanging around John’s shoulders. Smitty’s coat. “If you don’t want people to think…I mean…” Pezzy sighed, trying again. “It’s just that people will know that’s not yours.”

John clenched the coat tighter around himself as Pezzy spoke, his thumb messing with one of the buttons. He glanced back at Smitty, unsure, but eventually he decided Pezzy was right. With a smile that didn’t quite fit, John threw the coat over Smitty’s shoulders and smoothed out the creases before taking his hands away again, leaving Smitty somehow colder than ever.

He wanted John to keep it, like how John let him keep his jacket. (God, that felt like years ago now. Had it really only been a couple of weeks?). He could tell John wanted to keep it, too. 

But he couldn’t. Because at the end of the day, inside that rink were still people with cameras and phones, and John was still Kryoz no matter how much he didn’t want to be.

“Looks better on you, anyway,” John said.

No it doesn’t.

“...Let’s just go.”

John frowned and Smitty walked past him, pretending he didn’t see it. 

They were supposed to be pretending, weren’t they?

***

The rink was nearly empty now. It wasn’t hard to spot Droid and the rest of his friends in the bleachers. Droid’s mouth was moving and his eyes were downcast, but luckily nobody seemed mad or upset. Matt was crouched in front of him, holding his hand. Grizzy had a protective arm around him, nodding along as he spoke. Rectrixx was sitting close enough that their legs were touching, and he gave Droid a reassuring smile. Puffer was the only one standing, his arms crossed, but Smitty knew the look on his face meant he was thinking—not angry.

Smitty should be there with them.

“I’m gonna run to the restroom to change really quick,” John said, pulling Smitty’s attention. “I’ll be right back.”

Smitty nodded. “Sure.”

Pezzy waved, and John was off. Smitty needed to be with his friends, but he couldn’t leave Pezzy by himself either.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” Smitty stated. “You should at least get to say hi to them, even if you aren’t ready to fully get to know them yet.”

Pezzy folded into himself. “I don’t know…”

“They should be your friends too. Droid wants that. I want that—we all do.”

“...It’s just weird. I know so much about all of you, but they’re just hearing about me for the first time.”

“So let them learn about you. Even the playing field.”

Pezzy hadn’t moved his eyes away from Droid. It was almost like he couldn’t.

He took a deep, steadying breath. “Okay. Let’s go say hi.”

Smitty grinned, bumping his shoulder into Pezzy’s before leading the way over to his friends. As they got closer, the others noticed them approaching, their eyes going wide as they realized who was following just behind Smitty.

Smitty locked eyes with Droid and silently mouthed the words, ‘Is this okay?’ He didn’t keep walking forward until Droid gave him a small nod.

Smitty took a seat next to Rectrixx, and let Droid and Pezzy have the floor. This was their moment.

“Uh…guys, this is Pezzy,” Droid started, using his free hand to hold on to Pezzy’s. He pulled him into their circle until he was standing right beside Matt. “My boyfriend.”

Pezzy blushed, very aware of all the attention on him. “...Hi.”

For a moment, no one seemed to know what to do, how to react. But then Matt got up, dropping Droid’s hand so he could shake Pezzy’s.

“Good to meet you,” he said easily. “I’m Matt.”

Pezzy stood a little straighter, his spiky nerves smoothing at the edges. “Yeah, good to meet you. All of you, really.”

Rectrixx sprung out of his seat and yanked Pezzy in for a side hug. Pezzy let out a sharp noise of surprise, but didn’t protest further.

Rectrixx laughed. “Dude, you were awesome out there! I can’t believe Droid’s dating someone as crazy talented as you,” he said. “Actually—scratch that. I totally can. Droid’s our best player. Only makes sense he’s with someone as skilled as he is.”

Pezzy’s eyes shined, his face brightening. Droid was smiling now too, relief and joy and pride settling into his features.

Grizzy didn’t move from his spot, but he leaned over Droid and held out a fist. Pezzy knocked a shaky fist against Grizzy’s, his nerves never fully leaving.

Grizzy leaned back after the fist bump, satisfied. “I’m Grizzy. Sorry about that trip, man. That’s tough. You still killed it, though.”

“Thanks,” Pezzy said, his voice quiet and small but so, so happy.

Smitty doubted Pezzy cared about his earlier stumble much at all, anymore. He might’ve even been grateful for it, considering what happened after. 

Puffer went last, giving Pezzy a curt nod. “Yeah, hey. Um…sorry—it is good to meet you, genuinely. This is just a lot to wrap my head around. You’ve really been with Droid for two years?”

Pezzy tensed, holding onto Droid’s hand a little tighter. “That’s right.”

Puffer could sense his stress. He uncrossed his arms, letting his guard down, letting Pezzy know it was okay.

“Well, you’ve got a good one. He’s a fucking idiot half the time—”

Droid huffed, kicking Puffer’s shoe. “Hey!”

“But you probably know that already,” Puffer continued, undeterred. “And if his stupidity hasn’t driven you away yet, then I doubt it ever will.”

“Eh, he can act as crazy as he wants. I’m only with him for his looks,” Pezzy joked.

Pezzy made a joke. He already felt comfortable enough around them to make jokes. Smitty couldn’t help but smile as the rest of his friends laughed.

“That’s not true,” Droid said. He brought the back of Pezzy’s hand to his lips and pressed a quick kiss into his skin. Smitty pushed back the thought of John’s lips on his—or, he tried to, at least. Would John let him kiss him again? Did John even want to? “You’re only with me because I’m a hockey player. If I wasn’t he would’ve ditched me in less than a week.”

“Damn…is that why you’ve gotten so much better at hockey over the last couple years?” Grizzy asked, teasing. “All so you could keep your boyfriend interested, huh? We shoulda known…”

“Okay, you’re joking, but deadass I have gotten better because of him,” Droid said. “I highly recommend getting yourself a hockey-obsessed boyfriend, it makes you play kinda insane.”

“That advice only works for Matt, the rest of us are straight,” Grizzy said. “Do you think having a hockey-obsessed girlfriend would have the same effect?”

Smitty bit the inside of his cheek. The rest of them were not, in fact, all straight. But Smitty still had a hard time saying that, so he said nothing at all.

Droid shrugged. “Dunno. Never tried it on account of the whole not being attracted to women thing.”

Grizzy nodded sagely. “Makes sense.”

They laughed and John showed up, suddenly appearing at Smitty’s side as if he’d always been there. He’d changed into a black sweater splattered with paint and brown pants covered in patches, lighter brown boots and silver rings on every finger completing the fit. 

These clothes felt just as lovingly crafted as any of his figure skating costumes did, in Smitty’s opinion. All of John’s pieces were his art, no matter what he wore them for. Some of them probably held more meaning to him, like the top he’d just changed out of, but that didn’t make the pants with the patches any less valuable. There was merit sewn in every stitch, proof of John’s love for the act of creation. 

He was, of course, as stunning as he ever was. Clothes couldn’t change that. (Although, he did wear a lot of really nice clothes, and it wasn’t exactly like that hurt his appearance). 

“Hey,” John whispered, not wanting to interrupt the current conversation. “Everything okay?”

Smitty beamed, looking back to Droid and Pezzy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Droid this damn happy. 

“Everything’s perfect.”

It was nice to know that those words weren’t pretend.

***

They all talk with Pezzy for a little while longer before deciding to call it a night. Everybody else headed outside, but Smitty asked Puffer to hang back for a bit. Nobody minded giving them a minute, so now it was just the two of them in the big, empty rink.

Smitty knew what he wanted to say. But his tongue felt all big and dumb in his mouth and he couldn’t twist it the right way to get the right words out.

“Hey, so, I just wanted to let you know I don’t need a ride back home,” Smitty said.

“...Because you’re going with John?” Puffer assumed.

“Um…yeah. It’s his last night here and everything, y’know?”

Puffer looked like he wanted to say a lot of things, but he settled on a simple, “Okay.”

“...Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I don’t get why you couldn’t’ve just told me in front of everyone else, though. Unless there was something else?”

“No.” Yes. “It was just the ride thing.” Stop being a fucking coward.

Puffer was silent for a beat. Smitty knew what he was doing. He was trying to stop himself from prying.

Smitty really appreciated that. He was sticking to his word that he wouldn’t push, that he would let Smitty tell him things only when he was ready to. He knew it was difficult for Puffer to keep all his questions at bay, but he still did. Because that’s what Smitty wanted, and Puffer was a good friend.

Just tell him.

“Cool. No worries, I could do without your shitty music on the drive back anyway,” Puffer said. “You ready to head out, then?”

Why was this so damn hard? It felt way easier to talk about this with Matt and Droid.

“...Actually, uh—there was one other thing.”

“What’s up?”

Puffer deserved to know. Smitty’d been worrying him to no end over things Puffer couldn’t understand, and Puffer had been so patient with him recently even though he knew something was up. He was letting Smitty do this on his own terms. He couldn’t possibly know how much that meant to him, how much the pressure had eased since Puffer promised to let go.

And Puffer was still worried for him, was the thing. He would keep being worried until Smitty explained. So Smitty fought to get the words out, to help Puffer make it all make sense.

“I’m bi.”

There was no ‘I think I might be’ tacked on to that statement this time, because Smitty finally knew for sure, and that felt good. It felt really, really good.

Every second that went by without Puffer saying anything felt less good.

Eventually, Puffer put him out of his misery. “Like…bisexual?”

Despite it all, Smitty laughed. “Yes, like bisexual. What, did you think I was coming out as a bicycle?”

Puffer threw up his hands. “Hey, you never know man. Sexuality is fluid and all that.”

“Yeah, I don’t think bicycle counts as a sexuality.”

“I think it could, if someone wanted to identify as a person who likes to get ridden a lot.”

Smitty felt his jaw drop. He kept laughing as he shoved Puffer’s shoulder.

“Dude!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Puffer was laughing too, but his started sounding a bit shaky. “…Should I be taking this more seriously? You just told me something really important and I think I might be fucking this up.”

“No, no—it’s fine,” Smitty reassured. “Honestly, it’s…nice. It kinda makes it feel like no big deal. And it is a big deal, but it also isn’t, y’know?”

Puffer smiled. “Yeah. You know I love you no matter what, right?”

Matt had said the same thing, that night by the fire. Smitty was so lucky to be surrounded by such accepting, caring people. Not everyone got to have that. 

“I know.”

Puffer frowned. “Say it back, asshole.”

Smitty rolled his eyes. “I love you too. No matter what.”

Puffer dragged him in for a hug. Smitty expected it to be their usual, quick bro hug—Puffer never was too big on physical affection—but he held on to Smitty so tight it almost hurt. Smitty crushed him back with that same amount of force and knew, somehow, he was going to be okay.

“Thanks for telling me,” Puffer said, pulling away. “But…don’t take this the wrong way—why are you telling just me? Does everyone else already know?”

Smitty shook his head. “Rectrixx and Grizzy don’t yet. I wanna tell them, it’s just…it’s still hard. And new. And honestly fucking terrifying,” he admitted. “Technically, you’re the first person I told. Matt knows, but I never actually told him specifically that I’m bi. And I told Droid when I was, like, still pretty unsure if I really was or not.” Smitty supposed John knew now as well since Smitty kissed him, but he wasn’t about to tell Puffer that. He was only willing to share so much. “So, yeah…I guess you’re the only one who’s heard me say it out loud.”

Puffer’s eyes widened. “Smitty…dude—I don’t even know what to say.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What are you talking about, man? If anything—I’m sorry. If I’d known this is what you were keeping from me I never would’ve tried so hard to demand answers from you.”

“But keeping it from you made us fight.”

“That was my fault, not yours.”

Smitty scratched the back of his neck. “It’s not like I’m completely blameless.”

“Then we can both be at fault, who cares? We’re not fighting now.”

“...You’re really not upset with me, even a little bit?”

Puffer sighed. “Smitty. Of course I wish you felt like you could’ve come to me the second you realized something was going on with you, even if you didn’t have the words for it at the time. But you were dealing with something I have never been through and I can’t even begin to imagine how you felt. You were scared. You didn’t know how to talk about it. Now you do, and now you are. What could I possibly be upset about?”

Smitty let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He couldn’t describe the relief that washed over him, it was simply better than anything words could convey.

“And…Droid?” Smitty asked hesitantly. “You’re not mad at him, are you?”

He didn’t think he was, necessarily—but it never hurt to check. 

“Me and Droid are cool. I’ll admit I understand that a little less, two years is a long time to keep up a secret relationship, especially from people he knew he never needed to hide from. But he talked about it with us, and even though I think I’ll probably need to talk with him more, I’m nowhere near mad at him. Like I said—he didn’t know how to talk about it before, now he does. When I look at it that way, I can’t really find a reason to be angry. Simple as that.” Huh. Who knew it could all be so simple? “Plus, I like Pezzy well enough. I know I just met him, but Droid lit up like a damn Christmas tree around him. And if he really makes him that happy, then I guess he can stick around.”

Smitty smiled. “Good. Cus I really don’t think he plans on going anywhere.”

Puffer shook his head, amused. “Didn’t seem like it, did it?”

Smitty thought about the years that stretched before them. Two years seemed long now, sure. But Smitty believed, in the grand scheme of things, those two years would only be a small part of their story. A drop in the bucket that couldn’t compare to the rush they had ahead of them.

A real, tangible future.

“...Can I ask about John or should I leave that alone?” Puffer tried.

Smitty was grateful that Puffer was willing to drop it if Smitty wanted him to. It felt like a big step in their relationship that Smitty hadn’t even realized they needed to take. Puffer wouldn’t press, not anymore, but he would always be there to listen.

Smitty maybe wouldn’t have minded talking about it any other day, but not tonight. He just couldn’t do it tonight. Not when his own future looked so bleak.

“...Ask me again tomorrow?”

Puffer pulled him in for another hug. “Sure, man. Whatever you need.”

***

Smitty and Puffer made their way outside. He felt so light on his feet because of how well things went, and the frigid air that hit him when he stepped out the door was missing its usual bite, seeming more refreshing than anything else.

John was standing with Matt and Grizzy, laughing at something they said. Rectrixx must’ve already taken off, and Pezzy and Droid were missing as well.

Smitty said his goodbyes to his friends before walking over to John’s rental car with him.

“Where’s Pezzy and Droid?” Smitty asked.

“I told them to just meet us there,” John explained. “...We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.”

“Why would I not want to? Do you not wanna go?”

“I do, but…I’d rather just be with you.”

Smitty blushed. “You can’t ditch Pezzy. Or Droid, for that matter. And as much as I like hanging with you, I would also really like to get to know Pezzy better. He’s Droid’s boyfriend. And your best friend. I’m not missing out on the chance to talk to him.”

John sighed. “He would be pissed if I didn’t bring you. I guess today is a pretty big deal for him too, and his relationship going public means he can finally spend time with you guys, which he’s been wanting to do for forever. I should’ve thought about that…it’d be kinda fucked if we didn’t go, wouldn’t it?”

Smitty shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

“...Okay, but everything he tells you about me isn’t true. Unless it’s something good.”

Smitty laughed. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

Something in the air shifted, and suddenly John looked deadly serious. Smitty stopped laughing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m not sure what is and isn’t okay.”

“...What do you mean?”

“Like…” John stepped closer, eyes sharp and laser focused. “I want to tell you how beautiful you look, and how fucking distracting it is. I want to tell you that since you kissed me it’s all I can think about, but I don’t want to cross a line, so I need you to tell me what’s okay.”

Jesus. Smitty probably couldn’t get any redder. John was trying to ask him something important and figure out boundaries and shit, and all Smitty could focus on was the fact John thought he was beautiful.

He was so fucking useless. Especially when it came to John.

“...All I’ve been able to think about is how badly I want to kiss you again,” Smitty whispered, staring down at the ground.

He couldn’t look at John. How could he? His mind was spiraling, and he felt more embarrassed than ever—and, seriously—had John really meant it when he called him beautiful?

John put a hand under Smitty’s chin, lifting his head to get him to stop avoiding his eyes. Smitty’s heart pounded in his chest. It would be so easy to lean in, but it also felt impossible to. He could, but he couldn’t. He would, but he shouldn’t.

He grabbed John’s wrist and gently tugged it away. He couldn’t help casting his glance across the vast parking lot, too many cars around for his liking. What if his friends hadn’t left yet? Worse, what if someone took a picture and spread it online and it ended up hurting John the same way that photo of him and Pezzy did?

Smitty swallowed, trying to keep calm. “S-sorry, it’s just…”

“Not where someone might see?” John guessed.

Smitty nodded helplessly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Smit. It’s completely fine,” John reassured. “Promise me you’ll always be honest with me like that. I couldn’t bear it if I hurt you.”

Smitty smiled, but he knew it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Didn’t John get it? The hurt was inevitable.

One way or the other, this would all be over soon. Morning would come, and John would leave, and Smitty knew all too well John wouldn’t be available enough to sustain any kind of long-term relationship. Whatever it was they were doing now, whatever they were pretending to be—tomorrow they’d have to go back to being just friends. And when that happened, Smitty was going to break.

“Okay,” Smitty said. “As long as you’re honest with me too.”

John’s smile matched Smitty’s, not fitting quite right. “Always.”

They were both such fucking liars.

***

They pull up to the bowling alley about fifteen minutes later. Smitty recognized it, he’d been here a couple times with his friends. He’d met the guy who ran the place before too—Charlie. He used to be a co-owner of the Lunchclub rink. 

Smitty looked up at the neon green sign jutting out the front of the building, a drippy font spelling ‘Slimecicle’s.’ The lights in the M and the second C had gone out.

They meet Droid and Pezzy inside. It was a big complex, fitting in an entire arcade and restaurant alongside the alley. It looked like if a Dave & Buster’s got hit with a nuke composed entirely of Nickelodeon slime, the obnoxious theming assaulting the senses by drenching everything in green and artificial goop. Having the place all to themselves made Smitty realize just how massive it really was.

It was kinda cool, being in here with no one else around. Even though he knew Pezzy paid for them to be here, it felt like they’d snuck in after hours just for the hell of it, just because they could. Smitty’s heart drummed along to the feeling of getting away with something.

They started up a game after taking an absurdly long time deciding on which bowling balls to use. John entered their names into the console, not letting anyone see until they were displayed on the TV overhead.

Despite the fact John hadn’t used any of their actual names, it wasn’t hard to figure out who was who. ‘Gold medalist’ was followed by ‘Silver medalist,’ then there was ‘Silver medalist’s boyfriend’ and finally, ‘Smit <3.’

“Asshole!” Pezzy exclaimed, playfully shoving John’s shoulder.

“I only write the truth.”

Smitty stared at the heart next to his name. It was stupid. 

It was stupid how much he could be affected by such a trivial thing.

“You’re still an asshole,” Pezzy declared. “Why do only you and Smitty get nice names?”

“I don’t know,” Droid said with a shrug. “I’m pretty happy with mine.”

Pezzy smiled and kissed Droid’s cheek, his grievances over the names completely forgotten. Smitty ached watching them. He hated how easy they made it seem.

It wasn’t like he resented their relationship or anything. It was genuinely amazing seeing Droid be so openly happy and carefree around the person he loved. It was just that he wished he could figure out how they got to be so uncomplicated.

They chatted aimlessly as the game went on. Droid and Smitty talked about their upcoming game against Sleep Deprived. John mentioned a song he was working on. Pezzy rambled off some stories about John, much to his dismay. Smitty hung on to every word.

“And I know I don’t need to tell you he’s a horrible conversationalist,” Pezzy said, walking back to the group after getting yet another gutter ball. He was atrocious at bowling. “But believe it or not he used to be way worse. He would never just talk to me normally. And he was so quiet—like I could only ever get a word or two out of him before he decided he was done speaking.”

John rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Anyway, I convinced him to go on a hike with me, and he’s his usual mumbly self until we come across these flowers. I point them out and John goes, ‘Those are peonies.’ And I didn’t know that, so I go, ‘Oh, really?’ Next thing I know, John will not shut up about these flowers. He talked for the entire rest of the walk about flowers, I swear to god. After I learned everything I could possibly ever need to know about peonies he moved on to carnations, because they sorta look like peonies, I guess? Then it just became a free-for-all, whatever flower popped into his head. He even knew the scientific names of them and everything, and he was going into all their interpreted meanings, like—the whole nine yards.”

Droid finished his turn, which meant Smitty was up, but he didn’t move just yet.

“So I’m trying to take in all this new information, and it’s entirely impossible to absorb it all but I’m still asking questions and trying to keep up, right? I asked him if he had a favorite flower, and he smiled—which I’d never seen him do before up to that point—and he said, verbatim, ‘It’s a secret. If the other flowers heard, they might get jealous.’ And all I could think was, ah, finally, there he is. That’s when I knew we were gonna be friends.”

Smitty was beaming, leaning in to make sure he didn’t miss a single thing Pezzy said. He knew how obvious he was being, but he didn’t feel like it mattered much. Not here, not around them.

“That’s the sweetest shit I’ve ever heard,” Smitty said. He turned to John. “I knew you liked flowers, but I thought it was just cus they were pretty. I had no idea you knew so much about them.”

John hummed, non-committal. “Always sorta been interested in them. They’re fascinating.”

Pezzy scoffed. “You are not sort of fascinated by them. You’re obsessed. I say that with all the love in my heart.”

Droid nodded. “You are kinda crazy about ‘em, man. With love.”

“Adding ‘with love’ to the end of your statement doesn’t magically turn what you said into something nice,” John said. “You still just called me crazy.”

“Yeah, but—y’know.” Droid made a vague gesture with his hand that explained nothing. “It’s the good kind of crazy.”

“Was there something specific that made you wanna learn about them or just general interest?” Smitty asked.

The tips of John’s ears went red. “My mom. She had a garden when I was a kid. She’s why I don’t say my favorite flower out loud, because she never did. And she said it was because the other flowers would be sad, but I think she just couldn’t choose between them. She loved them all.”

Smitty was going to melt. That was so goddamn adorable. It was also the most John had ever spoken about either of his parents.

Smitty couldn’t help but ask. “...Okay, but—your favorite is definitely sunflowers, right?”

John flinched. “Isn’t it your turn?”

Smitty laughed, letting it go. He was absolutely going to google sunflower meanings later, though.

***

Droid ended up winning both the games they played. John and Smitty traded second and third, and Pezzy came dead last. 

Pezzy seemed completely unbothered, though. John, however, would not stop pouting.

“How the fuck did you get a strike on the last frame,” he whined. “I knew I wasn’t gonna beat Droid, but did you really have to be better than me too?”

“Eh, you got second last time,” Smitty said. “I’d say that makes us about equal.”

John’s frown only deepened. Smitty wanted to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth to make him smile instead. 

“I don’t wanna be equal,” John stated. “I want to be the best.”

“You are the best.” Smitty smirked. “Just…not at bowling.”

John mumbled out a few more complaints about his loss while Smitty, Droid and Pezzy teased him for caring so much. It struck Smitty that this was the first time he’d ever actually seen John lose something—he didn’t often put himself in situations where he could lose. He mentioned before that he was insufferable when he lost. Smitty’d thought that meant he got extremely angry, but it turned out he was just adorably mopey.

They go to raid the kitchen tucked behind the dining area after Droid mentioned he forgot to eat dinner. Smitty wasn’t sure if they were allowed back there, but Pezzy insisted it was fine.

“Charlie said we could take whatever from the fridge if we got hungry. We just can’t cook anything.”

So they stole a piece of chocolate cake and a few slices of cold pizza to share. They took a seat at one of the many empty booths and dug in. Even John had a couple bites of cake, which Smitty was sure wasn’t in his diet plan.

Good for him. He deserved to indulge every now and then, life was too short not to.

And Smitty finally got to learn how Pezzy and Droid got together, since Pezzy was around to tell the story. 

Apparently, it went like this. They’d known each other for a couple months, talking everyday but not meeting much in person. Then, completely out of the blue, Droid decided to show up to one of Pezzy’s competitions. The plan was to surprise him, then ask him out.

“Except this wonderful, romantic dumbass got the time wrong, and he got there after the competition was already over,” Pezzy continued. “The rink was closed, and everybody was rushing home because it had started raining out of nowhere. I was halfway to the hotel when I realized I left my skates behind, which I have literally never done before. I knew I could get them if I went back, there was this side entrance at that place they always forgot to lock, and there was no way I was about to leave my skates of all things. So of course I go back, and who do I see sitting helplessly against the front door, in the rain, completely drenched?”

Droid smiled. “I was so fucking miserable when I realized he was already gone. It felt like I missed my chance, like this was some cosmic sign that we weren’t meant to be and I should just move on. But then, there he was, standing over me with an umbrella and yelling at me about how I was gonna catch a cold.”

“You did catch a cold,” Pezzy stated. “But, yeah—I was freaking out because he looked like a kicked puppy left on the side of the road, and I couldn’t for the life of me understand what the hell he was doing there. And he just says, ‘I’m here for you.’”

“The rest is pretty much history,” Droid said. “If Pezzy hadn’t forgotten his skates that day, we may have never ended up together. I’m forever grateful I fell for someone so spacey.”

Pezzy huffed. “Says you. You couldn’t even show up at the right time.”

Smitty laughed. It was a cute story. He wasn’t sure Pezzy told it any better than Droid could have—but Smitty had the sneaking suspicion that Droid just liked hearing Pezzy tell it.

“Damn, Droid. I’ll be honest, it’s a little weird seeing you like this,” Smitty admitted. “Before I knew about Pezzy I would’ve never guessed you could be so sappy.”

“Love’s made me soft, what can I say?”

John tsked. “Love’s made you both annoying.”

Is that how John saw love? As nothing more than an annoyance?

“Awwww, you’re just jeal—uhhhhh…” Pezzy’s eyes darted to Smitty before quickly flitting back to John. “You’re so pessimistic. Of course you find other people’s happiness annoying.”

“Yeah.” John swallowed. “You’re probably right.”

Smitty took another bite of cake. The overwhelming sweetness somehow turned bitter, leaving behind a sour aftertaste.

***

They fuck around in the arcade after they finish their food. Pezzy had a card that had infinite credits on it, so they could play whatever they wanted, for however long they wanted to.

John and Droid were playing some zombie shooter game a little ways away from where Pezzy and Smitty had just finished their game of air hockey.

“I can’t believe I just beat you in hockey,” Pezzy mocked.

“Air hockey,” Smitty corrected. “You would never beat me at the real thing.”

Pezzy laughed. “You’re not wrong.”

He and Pezzy leaned against the side of the air hockey table, looking over in the direction of Droid and John. John, if the string of profanities he was shouting were any indication, was losing.

“Motherfucker!” he exclaimed, loud enough for them to hear even from the opposite side of the room. “I hope you rot in hell for all of eternity, Droid, I’m not fucking kidding!”

Okay, so, apparently he could get extremely angry when he lost. Who knew?

Smitty hated that he found it endearing.

“Hey, I just wanted to say thanks,” Pezzy said.

“...For what?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen John this happy. Ever. It used to be impossible to get him to smile. He…didn’t have a lot of reasons to. But since he met you, it’s like he can’t stop smiling.”

Smitty brushed him off. “It’s not just cus of me.”

“It’s mostly because of you.” Pezzy lightly bumped into Smitty’s side. “A lot of this is because of you, you know. I don’t know if Droid would’ve done what he did tonight if you hadn’t talked with him about me. He was always so worried about someone finding out, but then someone did, and the world didn’t end. Because you sat with him, and you told him it was okay.”

“Him being brave enough to kiss you in front of all those people was all him, I had nothing to do with that.”

Pezzy chuckled. “Christ, it’s like you’re allergic to accepting praise,” he teased. “Where do you think that bravery came from, Smitty? He didn’t have it before. We get our strength from other people, when we know there will be somebody to catch us if we fall. You promised to catch him.”

Smitty didn’t know what to say to that. “...I’m just glad you guys don’t have to hide anymore.”

Pezzy smiled. “Me too.”

“Son of a bitch!” John yelled.

The jarring contrast from their conversation startled them both, causing them to double over in a fit of laughter. Pezzy was fun to laugh with. Pezzy was fun, period. He got what Droid saw in him.

“It’s rare he lets his guard down like this,” Pezzy stated, once their laughter had died down. “He doesn’t often let people see him as anything other than perfect. He must trust you a hell of a lot.”

Smitty tried not to blush. He didn’t trust himself to speak for fear of saying something stupid, so he just hummed in lieu of a proper response.

“...I’m not going to pretend I know exactly what’s going on with you two,” Pezzy said. “But…for what it’s worth? He really likes you.”

Smitty sighed. “I really like him too.” It was more than that. It was so much more than that. “But does it matter?”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?”

“...He’ll be gone in the morning.”

Pezzy smirked. “Oh, and long distance would simply be impossible, would it?”

“John would never go for that. We’re not like you and Droid,” Smitty said. “You wouldn’t get it. You have, like, the perfect relationship.”

Pezzy scoffed in utter disbelief. “Perfect? My relationship just went public today. I’ve wanted to tell people for two years. I love Droid, and I would’ve waited forever if he needed me to, but god if it didn’t kill me a little inside keeping him a secret. All the sneaking around, knowing he was lying to the people he cared about—it was fucking awful. I had to beg him to let me tell John. But we never let it break us apart.”

Smitty tensed. “That’s…true. Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve—”

“I’m just saying, no relationship is perfect. And I think you’re actually a lot more like me than you realize, and you’d be surprised how much Droid is like John,” Pezzy said. “Can…can I tell you something? Something that stays between you and me? I don’t want Droid to know I told you.”

Oh, shit. “Sure.”

“You know when we got together? There’s a part of that story I always leave out.”

“...Which is?”

“We talked every day, like I said. But the week before he came to see me, we weren’t talking at all.”

“Did you guys get in a fight?”

Pezzy shook his head, somber. He probably didn’t like reliving this specific memory.

“No. I think I would’ve preferred a fight. At least then I would’ve known what was wrong. Instead, one day we were talking normally, the next—nothing. He blocked my number.”

What the fuck, Droid? “Why?”

Pezzy took a deep breath, exhaling heavily through his nose. “He was scared. He’d had a couple boyfriends before me, but never anything super serious. I was the first person he ever felt this strongly about, and instead of trying to work through that with me—he completely shut me out. He just didn’t know what to do, so he acted like an idiot.”

“So, what did you do?”

“What was I supposed to do? He made sure I had no way to communicate with him. I thought he hated me, that I did something wrong or I was too forward, whatever. And despite the fact he blocked me without giving me any explanation, I blamed the entire thing on myself. I assumed it had to be my fault, somehow, because I always assume everything is my fault.”

Huh. He was right, they were a lot alike. 

“...I’m really sorry you had to go through that.”

Pezzy gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago and we’ve worked through it, but what I’m getting at is that I know how you feel. When you care about someone the way we care about them, and it seems like things are over before they’ve even begun, it causes something inside you to break. And you can either let the break tear you apart, or you can try and find the way forward.”

Smitty appreciated what Pezzy was trying to do. And he was glad Pezzy felt comfortable enough around him to share this sort of thing. Smitty kinda felt like he could share anything with him too. Even though they barely knew each other, it was like they’d been friends for years. He was a really easy guy to talk to.

But…

“I’ve never been able to imagine what it would be like to actually be with him. Maybe I’ve been forcing myself not to think about it, I don’t know.” Smitty let out a humourless laugh. “I shouldn’t even be talking about this. We’re supposed to be pretending he isn’t leaving, which is such a stupid idea I can’t believe I agreed to.”

Pezzy put a hand on his shoulder. “Well, you don’t have to pretend right now, do you?” he asked. 

Smitty looked at John. Him and Droid had moved on from the shooter game to try their hand at the claw machine. They were still too far away to overhear.

“I…guess not,” Smitty said.

“So, maybe take this moment to think about it. Close your eyes, and picture what you want.”

Smitty shook his head vehemently. “I can’t have what I want.”

“Why not?”

Smitty stared at Pezzy, at a loss. There were still some things he felt he couldn’t say.

But it was almost as if Pezzy could read his mind. “...You know, John’s never liked skating professionally. Not for as long as I’ve known him. But he’s good at it—perfect, really—so everyone expects him to do it until he can’t. He’s never had someone care enough to tell him he doesn’t have to,” he said. “I did ask him once, if he’d ever consider quitting. He’s got plenty of other talents he could turn into a career. But he told me none of it was worth doing if he had to do it alone.”

“I can’t just ask him to throw his life away for me.”

“What life? You mean the one he hates?” Pezzy asked. “It wouldn’t be just for you. I think you know that. He wouldn’t be throwing away anything worth holding on to. Maybe he loses Jess, but maybe that’s a good thing. Their relationship isn’t exactly healthy.”

“John would be devastated if he and Jess stopped talking.”

“Of course he would be. But she’s hurting him, intentionally or not. And the devastation caused from that has been following John for years.”

Smitty crossed his arms, shutting down. “Look…it’s a sweet sentiment and all, but I’m trying to be realistic. Him wanting to quit is one thing. Our relationship is another. It’d be too many changes at once. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“What about any of this is fair?” None of it. That’s the point. “If you let him go, could you tell him how you felt then?”

“How could I? His schedule is fucked. He’d be too worried about hurting me, feeling like he didn’t have time to be ‘good enough’ for me, or whatever. He’d never agree to being anything more than friends.”

Pezzy frowned. “You don’t know that.”

“Tell me I'm wrong, then.”

Please tell me I’m wrong.

Pezzy opened his mouth, then closed it. Right. Just as he thought.

“...Isn’t that just as unfair? Keeping the truth from him because you decided you knew what was best all on your own?” Pezzy asked. “If none of the outcomes are fair, shouldn’t you at least try and go for the one where you're both more likely to be happy instead of the one where you’re both miserable?”

“What’s unfair is knowing I have to be the one to decide, because he never will.” Smitty couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his tone. “He’d rather just pretend.”

He tried not to read the look on Pezzy's face as pity, but it was hard to imagine it as anything else. “...Smitty—”

He was cut off by Droid and John’s cheering. They must’ve won something.

“It’s fine,” Smitty rushed to say. They were going to come back over here soon. “I’m fine.”

Just as Smitty thought, John and Droid started making their way toward Pezzy and Smitty. Droid was waving around a plush of a green ball of goo attached to a stick—a slimecicle. That thing was kinda like this place's mascot.

Pezzy knew they were running out of time to keep talking about this. He was going to have to let it go, whether he liked it or not.

“Just…think about what I said.” Droid and John were close enough now that Pezzy had to whisper. “He might surprise you.”

Yeah, right.

“...Sure.”

“Look at this weird ass creature I got!” Droid exclaimed, stopping just in front of Pezzy and shoving the plush into his arms. “For you, my love.”

Pezzy laughed, tossing the thing back to Droid. “Cute, but I don’t have enough room in my bags to bring that with me on the plane.”

Droid frowned down at the plush in his hands. “Well, I don’t fucking want it.”

“Why the fuck would I want it?” Pezzy asked lightheartedly. 

“I’ll take it,” John said.

Everyone snapped their attention to him, confused. It didn’t exactly seem like something he’d enjoy.

“Really?” Droid asked.

John shrugged. “Only if no one else would rather have it.”

Droid passed it over. “Nah, man. All yours. Kinda surprised you like this thing.”

“Ah…well, I dunno.” John ran a hand through his hair, anxious. “Would be cool to have something to remember tonight.”

Pezzy smiled. “And you call us sappy.”

John tried for a scowl, but the corners of his mouth kept quirking up despite his best efforts. “...Whatever. Shut the fuck up.”

Smitty knew there was a lot wrong with tonight, but there was a hell of a lot of good, too. He chose to focus on the good. He tried to, anyway. 

Whatever happened after, Smitty knew he wouldn’t be able to forget this night even if he wanted to. So, to hell with it, they might as well make it worth remembering.

If they could only have this, then they’d better make the most of it.

***

“It felt different today,” John said. “At the competition.”

They were sitting cross-legged on top of the prize counter, rummaging through a tub of shitty plastic jewelry. Smitty took another bite of the banana flavored Laffy Taffy he stole from the candy section. Droid and Pezzy were a few feet away, locked into an intense match of table tennis.

“Hm?” Smitty mumbled, distracted.

“Knowing you were there, it made it different,” John explained. Smitty stopped going through the jewelry, dropping a spider ring back in the bucket to give John his full attention. “I usually…I never really care who’s watching me. The people in the crowd are always just noise. I don’t even get nervous before performing anymore. But I was so anxious today I thought I was going to throw up.”

Smitty smiled. “You didn’t seem nervous.”

John smirked. “Well, you know I’m an expert at masking my feelings.” Boy, did he ever. “It was just…you were the only person I had to impress. The only person who mattered. More than Jess, more than anyone—I needed you to see me.”

Smitty reached across the counter and took John’s hand in his. The metal of John’s rings felt cool against his skin. John looked surprised, but didn’t pull away.

“I see you.”

John ducked his head, a poor attempt to hide his grin. He sighed, wistful.

“...I wish I could kiss you,” John whispered. 

Smitty’s heart skipped a beat as butterflies panicked in his stomach. He could see Droid and Pezzy out of the corner of his eye. And if he could see them, they could see him.

He was scared of them seeing how close he and John were. He wondered how John had ever thought that he was brave.

Then he thought of Droid’s bravery, and what Pezzy had said about it.

It didn’t come from nowhere. He’d had to find it.

Droid had probably been petrified, his mind going a million miles a minute as he closed the distance between him and the man he loved. He’d looked so determined in the moment, so sure—but on the inside he must’ve been screaming. He must’ve felt how Smitty was feeling.

Maybe bravery could only be seen from the outside. Maybe being brave meant being terrified but doing it anyway.

Smitty reminded himself to breathe. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, “Why can’t you?”

John’s eyes widened. He cast a quick glance behind him, where Droid and Pezzy continued their game, completely oblivious. 

“Are you sure?” John asked.

Smitty nodded shyly. “Only if you are.”

That seemed to be all John needed to hear. He placed a careful hand at the base of Smitty’s neck and pulled him close, kissing him like he was afraid he’d never get another chance. 

Smitty breathed him in, distantly aware of the sound of a ping pong ball bouncing across the tiled floor, forgotten. Knowing they had an audience made Smitty pull away, breaking the kiss. He looked into John’s eyes, his pupils dilated so wide Smitty could barely see his irises—small slivers of vibrant colors peeking past the darkness. It was hard to stop himself from leaning back in.

Pezzy started hollering at them as Droid let out a loud ass (and honestly pretty impressive) wolf-whistle. Smitty grabbed a tie dye slap bracelet out of the cheap jewelry bin and chucked it as hard as he could in their direction. Droid easily dodged it, and it snapped into a coil as it hit the ground. 

John threw up a middle finger, twisting his arm back so he didn’t have to take his eyes off Smitty. Then, as if to prove a point—or because he simply couldn’t help himself—he grabbed the front of Smitty’s shirt and kissed him again. It was just a quick press of their lips, nothing more, but it left Smitty breathless all the same.

The teasing cheers and snickering continued, but it seemed so far away. 

“Alright, show’s over,” John declared, having to raise his voice to be heard. “Go back to minding your own damn business.”

Droid held up his hands, surrendering. Pezzy went to chase the wayward ping pong ball so they could resume their game, both of them knowing when to leave well enough alone.

John’s face pinched into a look of pure concentration, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Smitty’s face heated up as his eyes tracked the motion on their own, without his permission.

“You taste like fake banana,” John said, sounding all too pleased with himself.

Smitty laughed, picking up another candy. “Would you have preferred strawberry?”

“I’ll try all the flavors if I get to test them like that.”

Smitty pressed the Laffy Taffy into John’s palm. “Don’t push it.”

“Fine.” John tore the wrapper open with his teeth. “It’s not gonna be anywhere near as good this way, though.”

Smitty patted him on the cheek. “You’ll live.”

He grabbed another Laffy Taffy to read the joke printed on it.

What kind of tea is sometimes hard to swallow? Reality.

Wow, that was bad. “What’s yours say?” 

“Hol’ on.” John worked his jaw, grimacing as he swallowed. “Jesus, this sucks. I don’t know how you’re eating this stuff, it feels like I’m chewing cement.” He turned the wrapper over in his hand, squinting at the small text on the back. “Okay, uh—what’s the biggest room in the world?”

Smitty didn’t feel like attempting a genuine guess. “What?”

“Room for improvement.” 

“...That’s stupid.”

“They’re all stupid, Smit. I’m pretty sure that’s the point.”

He preferred John’s joke over the one he read, which wasn’t really saying much. But at least John’s was hopeful.

Room for improvement, huh?

Things might get worse, sure. But maybe they’ll be better. Even if they aren’t, it’d be okay. Because there was always room for that to change. The biggest room in the world.

It was possible he and John would end up as friends. It was possible they could be more than that. Either way, they used to be nothing. And now they could be anything.

Heh, what an idiot, finding reassurance in a Laffy Taffy riddle. So dumb.

Yet, despite the stupidity—despite everything, Smitty found he couldn’t stop smiling.

Chapter Text

It was around two in the morning when they decided to head out.

“Technically we can stay until five,” Pezzy said. “But I am exhausted.”

It only made sense. The competition had probably already drained him a significant amount, but he wasn’t exactly expecting his relationship to be announced to the entire world right after. And while that was a good thing, Smitty was sure it was mentally taxing as well.

Despite all this, however, Smitty got the sneaking suspicion that wasn’t why Pezzy was ready to call it a night. If they really had until five, the original plan was likely to pull an all nighter regardless of how tired everyone got. So Smitty could only assume he was doing this to let him and John have enough time together to be ready to say goodbye.

Smitty would never be ready.

“Sure, no worries,” John said. “I really appreciate you setting this up, man. It’s been good.”

Pezzy smiled. “Dude, of course! It always sucks when we’re in the same place but still barely get to see each other.”

John rubbed his arm. “...Yeah.”

They all stepped out the front entrance into the green glow cast from the overhead sign when Droid started frantically checking his pockets. “Ah, shit,” he muttered.

“What’s wrong?” Smitty asked.

“I left my wallet,” Droid explained. “Fuck, I don’t even remember where I put it.”

“I’ll help you look,” Smitty offered.

A little tension left Droid’s shoulders. “Thanks. Sorry guys—we’ll be right back.”

“We can—”

Pezzy linked arms with John, talking over him so he wouldn’t finish his thought. “We’ll wait out here.”

Smitty followed Droid inside, and as the door closed behind him he realized this was a trap. Maybe not completely—Droid seemed genuinely distressed about his misplaced wallet, but Pezzy had obviously used this set up to his advantage. He got to talk to John about Smitty, and Droid got to talk to Smitty about John.

They were checking by the lane they bowled at when Droid spoke up. “...Are you sure you know what you’re doing with John?”

Aaaaaand there it was. Smitty couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not even a little bit.”

Droid frowned. “I don’t want to say it’s a bad idea. I like you two together, you guys just…click. You’d make perfect sense. But John is John. And I love the guy, but I can see how the way he is causes this to end poorly. If this wound up fucking with you, Smitty…I could never forgive him.”

He did respect that Droid was being honest with him, at the very least. Pezzy’s optimism was nice and all, but Droid cared enough to tell him the truth, even if it was something he didn’t want to hear. 

“I know I should be more careful about this. I know.” Smitty sat down on the plasticy couch he was searching behind with a sigh. They were clearly taking a break from trying to find Droid’s wallet. “And when he leaves, you can yell at me all you want about all the terrible fucking choices I’m making, and how goddamn stupid I’ve been for ever letting it get this far. You can give me shit every day of the week for the rest of my life for all I care.” Smitty cast his gaze down at the linoleum floor. “But not tonight. I’m only asking you let me have tonight.”

One perfect night where he could make all the wrong decisions and forget about the consequences that were sure to follow. Surely being a complete and total fuck up for a few more hours couldn’t blow up his whole life.

Though, when he thought of the repercussions he was blatantly trying to ignore, he realized just how big the fallout could be.

If John made Smitty upset, even if it wasn’t totally his fault, Droid would turn on him. And if Droid didn’t fuck with his boyfriend’s best friend anymore, it could ruin his relationship not just with John, but with Pezzy as well. It wasn’t just Droid either, all his friends would hate John if he hurt Smitty in any way. John would lose all the new friends he’d gained, and would even lose an old one, and that support system disappearing would shatter him.

…Smitty needed to find a way out of this without getting hurt. Because it wasn’t just about what happened to him, but the ripple of everything after.

But he could figure that out later. He just needed tonight. Tonight he could do whatever he wanted, and the rest was future Smitty’s problem to fix.

He could tell Droid was having a hard time deciding if he should let it go or not. Smitty’d already made up his mind, though. He couldn’t stand to talk about this any more.

There was only one thing he knew he could say to get Droid to drop the whole thing. “Please, Droid.”

And just like that, Droid relented. “...Okay,” he whispered. “I’m sorry if it seemed like…I really want things to work out for you both. I’m just also worried about what happens if they don’t.”

“You think I’m not?” Smitty asked. “Trust me, I get it. But unless John decides to completely cut contact with me, I’ll be fine with whatever the outcome. I swear. We were friends first. I don’t plan on losing that.”

And he wasn’t going to let himself be the reason John lost other people either.

Droid nodded, ever so slightly. “As long as you’re sure.”

Far from it. “I’m sure.”

“...C’mon.” Droid held out a hand to help Smitty up off the couch. “I think I mighta left it by the claw machine. We should check there.”

***

They found Droid’s wallet in the restaurant, sitting on the booth where they ate their food. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when they got up to go to the arcade.

They met up outside and said their goodbyes, and then it was just Smitty and John again, back in his rental car.

“So,” John said, buckling his seat belt. “Where’d you wanna go now?”

“Ummm…I don’t know.” Smitty took a second to think it over. “There’s not even gonna be a lot of places open this late. Plus I’m honestly pretty tired. I wanna stay up still, I just don’t wanna do much.” An idea finally formed in his head. “We could just go to my place and chill there until you’ve gotta be at the airport.”

John’s shoulders slumped. Right. Smitty wasn’t supposed to mention the airport, because he wasn’t supposed to be acknowledging the fact John was leaving at all.

John managed to recover, plastering on a smile. “Sure, I’m up for that. Put in the address for me?”

John handed Smitty his phone, and Smitty did as he was asked. Then they were off, enjoying each other's company on the relatively short drive over, their hands intertwined on the center console. (John probably shouldn’t drive with only one hand, but it was late enough so few cars were on the road, and Smitty couldn’t bring himself to pull away).

John gave him shit for losing to Pezzy in air hockey, and invented a conspiracy that Laffy Taffy must’ve been secretly invented by evil dentists who wanted to drive more business by ruining people’s teeth. Smitty got to gush about how amazing it was to finally meet Pezzy and to see how cute he and Droid were together. He also couldn’t help but push for more information on flowers, specifically if the ones he embroidered on his costume held any significant meaning. John was more than happy to oblige, delving deep into different flower interpretations as well as mentioning which ones he chose simply because his mom used to grow them. It was wonderful.

To just be with him like this, to sit and talk and laugh, it was everything. It was easy.

It would all be going away soon.

They pulled into Smitty’s driveway about twenty minutes ago, but they were so deep into their conversation they’d forgotten to head inside. 

Smitty finished telling the story about the time he and Matt got suspended in high school for sneaking into the teacher’s lounge because Matt saw that Ms. Montgomery brought a Diet Coke for lunch and he just had to have it. He couldn’t remember how it even got brought up, their talk continually jumping from one thing to the next as they kept rambling on through the night.

Their laughter petered out as the conversation slowed, the once hostile darkness now covering them like a cozy blanket, shrouded in their own little world made perfectly for them that no one else could enter.

Alone, together. Here, time seemed to stand still. 

“...Hey, this is probably gonna sound dumb,” John whispered, not disturbing their new quiet reverie. “But I just wanted to say…thanks for not giving up on me. I know I wasn't exactly kind to you when we met, but you let me start over, even if I didn’t deserve it. And now…god, Smitty. You’ve made everything so much better. I don’t know how I ever managed before knowing you.”

Fuck. Smitty might cry.

He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of John’s mouth. “That didn’t sound dumb at all. I get what you mean, actually. My life makes more sense with you in it.” He smiled, reveling in the way John shyly looked away, his ears burning bright red. “And for the record, you don’t need to thank me for ‘giving you another chance,’ or anything like that. You’ve more than made up for that since then, and you already apologized.”

John frowned. “But I didn’t, though. I never actually just said I was sorry.” He sounded so frustrated with himself. How long had he been holding on to this? “But I am, okay? I need you to know I’m sorry for how I treated you.”

Smitty almost rushed to brush the whole thing off, dismiss it as something to just be forgotten. But, even though it really was okay, it meant a lot to have John properly apologize after all this time. Sorry's from John were hard to come by, but Smitty could see the guilt and remorse in his eyes and realized he was trying to change that—to directly own up to his mistakes when he did something wrong instead of hiding the blame somewhere else.

Smitty gave John’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you. It’s water under the bridge, yeah? But I appreciate you saying that.”

“...I’m so lucky to have you.”

Smitty wasn’t sure what he meant by that. As a friend? Something more? 

Whatever the case, “We’re both lucky.”

Because, miraculously, they’d found each other. Because whether it was romantic or not, Smitty knew now that John loved him. The love was there, hovering right in front of him, so unmistakable that Smitty wasn’t sure how he’d managed to miss it.

The love was there, and that was the only thing that mattered. 

***

They headed inside shortly after, needing a change of scenery to switch back to keeping things light and fun. Neither of them could handle being serious for too long. Eventually it became too much to sit with. Even though their talk was good—it still felt heavy. And with such little time left, they wanted to spend it goofing off, laughing at stupid shit before it got hard to laugh again.

During their car ride Smitty admitted to not watching any Studio Ghibli movies which, according to John, was basically a criminal offense. He agreed to let John show him whichever one he liked.

He had a single bag of microwavable popcorn left, so he made that while John found the movie to rent. He joined John in the living room as he put on Howl’s Moving Castle.

By animation standards, the movie was fantastic. But if Smitty was being honest, the longer the movie went on, the more confused he got. He’d ask John for clarification, but John was dozing in and out of consciousness through the whole thing, and was currently asleep with his head on Smitty’s shoulder. Smitty didn’t have the heart to wake him, even though he knew John was desperately fighting to stay awake as long as possible.

The credits rolled and Smitty figured John would prefer to sleep somewhere more comfortable, so he gently shook him awake. “Hey, c’mon. You’re gonna hurt your neck. Let's just go to bed.”

John grumbled something unintelligible. “What?” Smitty asked, smiling.

He really was adorable. When he wasn’t trying so hard to be empty, to feel nothing, he was so deeply human it almost made Smitty ache. Knowing he was one of the few people even allowed to see John like this, it was wonderfully overwhelming in that way that left his head spinning as it floated in the clouds.

“Can’t go to sleep yet,” John said, much clearer this time. “Need to stay up with you.”

He planted a kiss on the top of John’s head, his hair tickling his nose. “The competition must’ve been exhausting. You need to rest.”

John sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “No, I’m good. Seriously.”

He yawned. Smitty glared at him, unimpressed.

“...Okay, so I’m a little tired,” John relented. “But it’s fine, I’ll just sleep when I’m dead.”

Smitty sighed. “John—”

“Alright, alright. Just one more thing, then I swear we can go to bed.”

Smitty could never deny him anything. “...Fine. What is it?”

John beamed, suddenly much more lively, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it for a while before soft music came flowing from the speaker. John stood, offering his hand. Smitty blinked at him, confused.

“Dance with me,” John said.

Smitty was shaking his head before he even registered the movement. “I don’t know how to dance.”

John rolled his eyes, dragging Smitty up from the couch despite his protests. “Just one song. It’s easy.”

Smitty scoffed. “Says the figure skater with years of experience.”

“I’ll teach you. You’ll be fine.” John took Smitty’s hands, placing his left on John’s shoulder, while keeping hold of the right. John’s free hand went to Smitty’s waist, and inside Smitty was buzzing, his bones and blood turning to TV static. “We’re just slow dancing. All it is is basically swaying back and forth.”

John took the lead, and Smitty followed. He was forever doomed to want to follow him anywhere, knowing he couldn’t. He could see where this trail split, where they’d go their separate ways, being apart for god knows how long.

If John didn’t have another competition here, would he ever come back? Or was Smitty destined to always be the one chasing after him?

John held him close, and suddenly those questions mattered a whole lot less. Of course John wouldn’t just leave him behind. He never had a lot of time, but he’d always found some for Smitty. That wasn’t going to stop because of distance. The universe would have to do a hell of a lot more than that to keep them apart.

Smitty stepped on John’s feet more than a few times, but John never minded. Instead they both laughed softly at each mistake like they were both in on some secret no one else knew.

“You’re thinking about it too hard,” John said. “Stop looking down at your feet. Look at me.”

Smitty did. John smiled, and Smitty’s mind quieted, letting him enjoy this. This peace. This bliss. Everything else faded away.

“There,” John whispered. “Isn’t that better?”

Smitty wished they could live here, trapped in an eternal dance. But that would get boring, surely, even if Smitty couldn’t currently see how he’d ever get bored of this. And maybe moving forward meant finding so much more.

Their future was scary, that was undeniable. But they had one. Together, whatever that meant for them.

Smitty smiled back. “Much better.”

***

They wind up dancing to three songs. After each song ended, John would hold him a little tighter, begging Smitty for ‘just one more.’ Smitty caved the first two times, but after the third it became obvious John would keep saying that until Smitty stopped giving in.

They’re laying in Smitty’s bed now, facing each other with tangled limbs. Smitty carded his fingers through John’s hair. He hadn’t taken the time before to appreciate just how damn soft it was. John’s eyes were barely open as he traced random patterns along Smitty’s ribcage.

Or—maybe they weren’t random. “Are you drawing stars?” Smitty asked.

John hummed. “Good guess.”

Smitty continued playing with John’s hair. “Why stars?”

“...Did you know we're all made of stardust?” John asked. “It’s not noticeable in most people. Sometimes, though—sometimes you find someone full of stars. You can see it, they shine brighter than everyone else, lighting up every room they walk into.” His eyes closed, seemingly of their own volition. “You’re one of those people.”

Smitty didn’t try to deny it, like he usually would. This time, he simply allowed himself to accept the compliment, letting John’s sweetness stick. It wasn’t like John would lie to him, so why shouldn’t he believe what he’s saying?

“You’d be one of those people too, if you weren’t so insistent on trapping everything inside yourself,” Smitty said.

John shrugged. “Maybe. But you’re not scared to hide it. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve always just been yourself.” And then, the kicker. “I love that about you.”

Smitty froze. John could feel it. His eyes snapped open.

“I shouldn’t’ve said it like that. I just meant—”

“I know what you meant. It’s fine.”

It had to be fine. Smitty refused to let himself think about it any more. If he did, he’d only wonder how deep that love went, and if he fell into that pit he doubted he could get back out.

John still looked worried. “...You sure?”

Smitty smiled. “It’s okay, John. You weren’t trying to say…” He bit his lip to stop himself from finishing that sentence. “Don’t worry about it. It’s late, and—” Smitty realized he had the perfect opportunity to change the subject. “Actually, what time do you need to be at the airport? Do you need to get your stuff at the hotel before you go?”

John shifted, uncomfortable. He didn’t want to talk about leaving. But he wasn’t exactly eager to resume the previous conversation either, so talking about leaving it was.

“My flight’s at eleven. All my bags are in the car already, so I can just head straight there,” John explained. “I need time to return the car though. And Jess will kill me if I’m not two hours early, so I need to be there by nine, which means I gotta leave at eight.”

Smitty shouldn’t have asked. He didn’t want to know how little time they had left. Last time he checked, it was almost six. Only a couple hours until they were ripped apart.

“Guess you better get some sleep while you can, then,” Smitty said. “You set an alarm ‘n everything?”

“Yeah, I’m all good.” John paused for a beat before adding, “Will you come with me to the airport? You’d have to get a ride back, and I know that’s annoying—”

“Of course I’ll go.”

John exhaled, relieved. His exhaustion was evident, and Smitty knew better than to keep him up, but he wasn’t ready to lose him just yet. It was selfish, and stupid, but he figured if he kept talking, John would stay with him.

The problem, however, was that Smitty really didn’t have much left to talk about. And in his tired, dazed state, he found himself asking the one thing he promised he never would.

“John?”

“Mhmm?” 

“…Would it change anything if I told you I want you to stay?”

The rush of emotion that swam through John’s eyes tore Smitty apart. There was a tiredness to them, the burden of the years he gave away to someone else finally catching up to him. 

“Smitty…”

“No, I know. I’m sorry.” Smitty had always known what the answer was going to be. But he still had to ask. He still had to try. “I know that’s not fair.”

John kissed Smitty’s forehead in place of the apology Smitty knew he wouldn’t say. He might’ve gotten better at the whole apologizing thing, but that didn’t mean it was easy.

Besides, what did he have to apologize for? Living his life? What Smitty was asking was insane. John’s whole world would change, and Smitty wanted him to do it on a complete whim at the drop of a hat—because he would miss him?

Selfish. Stupid.

“I’m still going to be with you,” John said, so softly Smitty almost missed it. “Even when I leave, you’ll still have me. I promise.”

“I know,” Smitty said, even if he didn’t.

John kissed him again, properly this time. It was slow, and careful, and it lasted long enough that Smitty realized it was also a goodbye.

Smitty could feel it now, that thing Pezzy was talking about. The beginning of the break. He could either be destroyed, or find the way to rebuild.

Smitty wasn’t sure he caught it in time. He might not be able to stop it before he gets crushed.

***

John’s alarm was the last thing Smitty wanted to hear, but it was the only thing he could. It rang out, loud and shrill and signaling the end.

They were both quiet as John checked around the house to make sure he had everything, operating the best they could on basically no sleep. Smitty remembered he still had John’s jacket in his closet, but when he tried to give it back, John only shook his head and pushed it further into Smitty’s arms. Smitty didn’t fight him on it.

He did, however, sneak his coat into one of John’s bags. It seemed only fair. Equal exchange, and all that.

They talked on the ride to the airport, but they were still acting like John wasn’t leaving, and when it was this close to his departure it got harder and harder to ignore reality.

Soon, they wouldn’t be able to pretend.

It made it hard to speak without strain. Their voices cracked more than either of them were willing to admit.

Returning the rental car was an easy enough process. Smitty almost wished it wasn’t, if it had taken longer that would’ve meant more time with John. But he didn’t want him to be late, even if a part of him wanted John to miss his flight entirely—he pushed that selfish part down. For John’s sake.

This was what John wanted, Smitty reminded himself.

…This was what he wanted, right?

Jess texted John which entrance she was near, and they made their way over to it at the most leisurely pace imaginable. Neither of them were ready for this. They never would be.

They were going to have to be.

Standing at the door John would go through and Smitty wouldn’t made it all too real. No more pretending.

“Eli’s going to come pick you up?” John asked. “I wanna make sure you’re good before I go.”

“Yeah. He and Yumi live not too far from here, so he said it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“...I’m really gonna fucking miss you.”

Smitty’s heart couldn’t take this much longer. “If I said some lame shit like, ‘I’ll miss you more,’ d’you think we could still be friends?”

John laughed. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, I’m afraid.”

Smitty hugged John so tight he might never let go. The way John clung to him in return, it seemed like he wouldn’t mind if Smitty held on for eternity.

Don’t leave.

“Don’t forget to text me when you land.”

Stay with me.

“I won’t.”

I love you.

He wanted to say those last three words more than anything, to let John know how he truly felt, to leave everything on the table in case it made any difference. In case John loved him too.

In case John just needed to know he was loved.

But saying that, telling the truth now, it would only make this harder on John than it already was—knowing what he was leaving behind. Smitty couldn’t do that to him. John had already made up his mind, and staying wasn’t an option. Smitty wouldn’t complicate things further. They were already complicated enough.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

Smitty refused to say goodbye. When he thought about it, this wasn’t the end. It was only their beginning.

“Yeah.” John reluctantly pulled away from their embrace. “See you soon.”

Despite their farewells, John didn’t move toward the door. He didn’t move at all.

“...Maybe I should stay with you til Eli gets here.”

Smitty smiled, bittersweet. “It’s already like ten minutes past nine. Jess is probably pissed.”

“I’m not exactly thinking about Jess right now.”

“Don’t be difficult,” Smitty said. “You can’t miss your flight.”

“The plane can wait.”

Smitty huffed. “Maybe it can. But it sure as shit won’t.”

“Okay, okay…I know. I need to get going.” John had to practically force those words out. “I just hate leaving you out here by yourself.”

“Eli’s gonna be here any minute. I’ll be fine.” Smitty gave John’s arm a squeeze. “...We’re both going to be fine, yeah?”

John managed a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If you say so.”

“I say so.”

John hugged him one last time, promising to text and call as much as possible, and before Smitty knew it—he was gone. Just like that. As if he’d never been there at all.

When Eli showed up, he only had one thing to say.

“Dude. You look like shit.”

***

Each step John took in the airport was more difficult than the last, knowing that his every move was taking him further and further away from Smitty. He had to actively fight his body, pushing back against the instinct to turn around and run back into Smitty’s arms.

Smitty had been this force—this fire, and John was simply ice. He burned so bright and so fierce that John couldn’t help but be drawn to the flame. He should’ve known that eventually, inevitably, he was going to melt. Evaporate. There would be nothing left of him after this. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Smitty asked him, about if he’d stay. Had he really meant that? Had he even fully considered what that would entail? Did he already think it through long before he ever said anything about it, and still decided it was worth asking? Knowing the consequences, knowing everything—would Smitty want him anyway? Was that what he’d really been asking? Not just if he’d stay with him, but to be with him too?

John’s head hurt. And, with how Jess could be, the oncoming headache was likely going to become a migraine.

Speaking of which, “Jesus, John, how hard is it to show up when I ask you to?” Jess glanced up from her phone before getting right back to it. There was always more work to be done. “I am trying to be more lenient with you lately, but come on. You know I lack patience. I’m not trying to be overbearing, but am I really so evil for wanting you to be on time?”

“I never said you were evil.”

“No, darling, I know.” Well, that was sweet. Which meant it could only be followed up by the sour. “You certainly have a habit of treating me like I am, though.”

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Give me a second to find my boarding pass and we can go, alright?”

He had his suitcase, his duffel bag, and a backpack. He forgot which one his boarding pass was in. It was rare for him to be so scattered, but he’d had a hectic twenty-four hours, okay? Sue him.

John sat down in the empty row of chairs beside him to make the process of searching a bit easier. He couldn’t find it rummaging through his backpack, so he went to check the duffel instead. When he unzipped it though, it wasn’t his stuff he was looking at. Sitting on top of it all was Smitty’s coat. The one he’d just been wearing mere hours ago. The one he draped over John’s shoulders when John thought he was all alone, crying in the cold. 

He’d…he was giving it to him. Smitty knew John would never take it if Smitty had offered, so he hid it away for John to find when it was too late to hand it back.

Smitty was making sure John knew he’d never have to be alone again.

John wasn’t ready to be alone again. He didn’t know how to do it anymore. Like attempting to get back into a long forgotten hobby, the muscle memory had faded away, leaving only the struggle of trying to remember how he’d ever known this.

…Damn it, Smit.

Why? Why’d he have to be so good? 

Why was John’s mouth moving all on its own? “...I can’t go with you.”

In a surprising move, Jess turned off her phone to give John her attention. “You forgot to print the damn thing, didn’t you? You can get boarding passes on your phone these days, you know. I never did understand why you were so insistent on printing them out.”

He scrap booked them. They were proof.

John was constantly on the move, always getting dragged from one location to the next with barely any time to process he was ever there at all. Most of the time, he felt like he was aimlessly drifting through endless nothing, never staying in place long enough to make anything stick. Sometimes, the nothing would grow so big John didn’t even feel like a person.

The boarding passes were something real he could hold on to. Something to prove he was really there, that he was alive, that all the aimless drifting had purpose after all—even when he couldn’t see it. 

Not that he ever bothered explaining that to Jess. She’d probably just call it another pointless waste of his precious time.

Or maybe she wouldn’t. If John actually tried talking to her, would she hear him out?

“I have it somewhere, but that’s not what I’m saying,” John said. “I’m not leaving.”

Jess narrowed her eyes. “...Please don’t tell me this is about that boy.”

Rage had never flooded his senses so fast. “Don’t do that. It’s Smitty. You know his name is Smitty.”

She’d made him tell her everything after she showed up to Smitty’s house. She was purposefully downplaying what Smitty meant to him by not saying his name. She didn’t want Smitty to mean anything to him.

But to John, Smitty was the sun, and he was just the flower that faced him. Without his light, John would die. And his life had only gotten started.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jess snapped, thoroughly unamused. “Listen, it’s very sweet you have a little crush and all, but be reasonable. You have no future here.”

…He only had a future here.

If he got on that plane, the nothing would consume him. 

“It’s not only about him, though. It’s about everything.” John sighed. “I can’t do this anymore, Jess. I want it to stop.”

Jess was getting angry, now. She wasn’t showing it on her face, but John knew her well enough that he could see it in her eyes.

“You want what to stop?” Jess asked. “Your promising, thriving career? The practically flawless track record you worked so hard to build?”

John didn’t care about any of that shit. He never did.

“I want to stop feeling this way,” John admitted. “Like nothing I do is ever enough. You always want more from me, but I don’t have anything left to give.”

There was a small crack in Jess’s resolve, a glimpse of genuine anguish—maybe even the tiniest hint of remorse.

But of course, she wouldn’t take responsibility. It was always someone else’s fault.

“Christ, what has he been telling you? You’ve let that boy fill your head with lies. He doesn’t even know me, John. You do.”

“Exactly. I know you.” John ran a hand through his hair, growing increasingly frustrated. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Smitty, this is about you and me. I don’t want to fight, Jess—and the last thing I want is to lose you. But something has to change.”

He wanted to change. In fact, he was pretty sure he already had.

Jess shook her head disapprovingly. “I don’t know what you want from me. I’ve made you an overwhelming success. You’re the best there’s ever been. I don’t see what’s wrong with that. I’ve given you the life I’d always wanted.”

“...I wish I wanted it too,” John said. “I tried so hard to want it, because I knew how much this meant to you. But…look at us, Jess.” He gestured between them helplessly. “This made us both happy, once. But I don’t think either of us have been happy for a long, long time.”

That was what finally got through to her. He watched her face fall, too fast for her to catch it. John could see it, how she was just as exhausted as he was. They’d burnt out years ago, both too stubborn and too stupid to stop.

If they just kept pushing, just kept going and going and going, then they never had time to think about how none of this was worth killing themselves over.

Jess slowly took the seat next to John, her posture perfect and her gaze straight ahead, looking at something John couldn’t see. She started picking at her nails, a bad habit she never could quite kick, a habit she and John shared.

He hated how much he was like her. He loved how much he was like her.

Jess was brilliant. Smart and calculating and, yes—she was cold, too. But she was also the strongest person John knew. 

When she went after something, she did it with everything she had, leaving nothing to chance. She fought for what she wanted, and come hell or high water, she would get it. When she set her mind on something, she could do anything. John truly believed that.

He was also starting to believe that he could do anything too.

At the very least, he wanted to try.

“...And this boy—Smitty.” John smiled at the correction. It was a start. “He makes you happy?”

John’s smile only got brighter. “More than anything.”

Jess sighed. “I still don’t like it. You’ve known him for a month. It’s foolish. You would really be willing to lose everything you’ve worked for, just for him?”

“It’s not just for him,” John declared. Hadn’t she been listening? “This is for me.”

Jess finally turned to face him. “You know I can’t agree to this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’d be a mistake.”

“Maybe,” John said. “But—isn’t it about time I started making some of those?”

That’s what living was supposed to be, wasn’t it? Fucking up, learning, growing. Changing. Fucking up again, and figuring out how to be okay with that.

That was what John wanted. A life where he made his own choices, good and bad. He wanted to experience it all.

Jess frowned. “How do I get you to change your mind?”

“...You can’t.”

Jess leaned back in her chair. “I never should’ve taught you to be so strong-willed. I should’ve known it would bite me in the ass one day.”

“I’m sor—”

Jess held up a hand. “Stop that. You know how I feel about apologies.”

Jess thought apologizing was a sign of weakness. That if someone was really sorry, they should show that by their actions only.

“Don’t apologize,” she would say. “Just be better.”

“Nothing’s ever going to get better if we don’t talk to each other,” John said. “Maybe you don’t want to hear it, but I need to say it. I’m sorry. I should’ve said something sooner. It might’ve made things different. It might not have. But it doesn’t have to be too late for us to fix things.”

Jess’s walls were crumbling. “What the hell am I going to do without you?”

“I’m not dying,” John teased, doing his best to lighten the mood. “We're still family. That doesn’t go away. You just…can’t be my coach anymore.”

Jess stood, smoothing out the creases in her blazer. “I’m not going to be able to convince you otherwise, so I won’t waste my breath. You’re an adult. It’s your decision, even if I think it’s the wrong one,” she said. “I should go. I have a flight to catch.”

John knew this was crushing her. He knew because it was crushing him.

He shouldn’t hug her. They didn’t really do that.

He hugged her anyway.

Jess immediately tensed, unsure how to react. She was bad at this. So was he.

Eventually, her edges softened. Not entirely, of course—it was still Jess after all. She awkwardly patted him on the back, doing her best to return the unexpected affection.

“...I am so proud of you,” Jess said, quiet and kind and so unlike her it made John’s chest ache. “I don’t understand why you have to do this, and you’re breaking this poor old woman’s heart—but never forget that I am, and always have been rooting for you.” She stepped out of their dysfunctional embrace. She couldn’t stand vulnerability for very long. “I’m not delusional enough to believe in true love, but I sincerely hope it works out. Even though you’re much too good for him.”

Love. That was it.

John was in love with Smitty.

He’d known that, of course. But he’d been pretending he didn’t. If he dared to acknowledge the truth, if he faced it head on, it would only make the distance that much greater when he had to go.

Except he didn’t have to go. Not when Smitty wanted him to stay.

And who was he to deny Smitty what he wanted?

“You think I’m too good for everyone,” John stated.

Jess, allowing herself a moment to feel, smiled. “Well, you are.”

Not for Smitty. If anything—Smitty was too good for him.

When they were together, though—none of that seemed to matter. Together, they just fit.

It wouldn’t be perfect. John didn’t want it to be.

He just wanted it to be theirs.

It hurt, leaving Jess behind, knowing their relationship would change as a result. But walking out of that airport was the best thing he’d ever done. It was the right choice. It was the only choice.

Whatever happened now, he was prepared for it. This could all blow up in his face, or it could become something miraculous. Either way, he was living.

He was free. And freedom meant he could fall, but he could get back up again too. He was strong enough to fail, and to keep going after.

John got in an Uber, knowing exactly where he needed to go.

***

Smitty should be asleep.

He tossed and turned in his bed, his body exhausted but his mind racing, keeping him awake. He thought about calling Matt, just to have someone around, but even imagining having to interact with another person was tiring.

He opted for scrolling through his phone. He took in none of what he was seeing, his thoughts elsewhere. 

It was already past ten. John would’ve gone through security by now. He was probably sitting at his gate. He already felt a million miles away.

Whatever. It was fine. They’d be fine.

Smitty just needed to let himself be sad for a while, was all.

The frantic knocking at his front door was less fine.

Smitty shot up out of bed, more alert than ever. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as best he could, double checking his phone to see if he’d somehow managed to miss some texts or calls from his friends. There was nothing.

He dragged himself out of his room, languid. Matt was probably just worried about him. Weird of him not to text, but whatever.

Smitty opened the door, ready to explain that he was fine—that he’d bounce back in a few days but needed space for the time being—when it registered who was standing in front of him.

“John? What the hell are you—” Smitty looked him up and down, not totally convinced this wasn’t a very vivid hallucination. “...Did you forget something?”

John’s hand was still hovering in the air from where he was knocking, curled into a tight fist. He had all his bags with him, strangely, all three of them sitting in a clump on Smitty’s doorstep. And…he was wearing Smitty’s coat. 

Smitty had no idea what was going on, but looking into John’s eyes took his breath away.

They were wild, and frantic. Uncertain yet impossibly sure. Smitty’d never seen him so determined, not like this. This was new.

John swallowed as he nodded, his hand finally falling. “Yeah.”

Smitty’s heart sank. He’d almost tricked himself into believing John had come back for him.

“Um…what was it?” Smitty asked.

“You.”

What? Did he mean—

Before Smitty could even finish his thought, John was kissing him. His hands were in Smitty’s hair, and he tasted like the toothpaste Smitty let him borrow that morning, and it was everything Smitty had ever wanted.

Instinctively, Smitty pulled him closer, matching John’s intensity with a hunger of his own before realizing he still didn’t entirely know what was happening here.

So as much as it pained him to stop this, he had to. He had to be sure. 

“You can’t do this to me,” Smitty said, his voice shaking. “If you’re still leaving—”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

And it wasn’t quite ‘I love you,’ but it was almost more than that. Because you’re supposed to be able to let go of the people you love. 

And John had chosen to hold on. 

It was a bullshit saying anyway, ‘if you love them, let them go.’ Loving someone should mean being crazy enough to do anything to stay by their side. If it was really love, kicking and screaming and fighting against all odds to be together only made sense. 

Smitty wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He wasn’t ever going to let John go again. Not when they could have this. 

Smitty didn’t care how irrational it was, how irresponsible they were being for doing this. From the outside looking in, they probably seemed like a couple of lovesick fools rushing into things without a plan, no clue of what they were getting into. And maybe they were, but Smitty found himself ready to brace the unknown, knowing he didn’t have to do it alone.

At John’s side, it all felt possible. Nothing could stop them now.

John leaned back in, and Smitty met him more than halfway. It felt good knowing that this wouldn’t be the last time. Far from it.

Tomorrow would bring something new. Something different and unpredictable. But they’d get to have tomorrow, together.

Hand in hand, they took the first step into the rest of their lives.

***

Being with John was surprisingly easy.

They’d been dating a little over a month now, living together for the same amount of time. John had suggested getting his own place originally, worried they might be going too fast, but Smitty didn’t care about some preconceived notion about what was considered ‘too fast.’ 

So he asked John genuinely what he wanted, telling him that he’d love to have him stay but didn’t want to pressure him if he wasn’t ready. John had smiled, relieved, saying he was afraid of pressuring Smitty—that of course he’d love to stay.

Their home never felt empty.

John’s paintings lined the walls, some unfinished canvases usually laying around somewhere. Sewing projects were scattered across the living room. Smitty got some plants to liven up the place, determined to make the house better than it ever had been before. 

It was a bit messy, especially with how often their friends came around, but it was that functional kind of clutter that just made their home feel lived in. Beautiful, vibrant, colorful chaos.

Hockey was going better than ever. Knowing John was always in the crowd made Smitty play out of his mind. Droid was on to something with that whole ‘having a boyfriend makes you play insane’ thing. John wasn’t obsessed with hockey like Pezzy, but he was obsessed with Smitty—and Smitty found it never hurt to give him more reasons to be impressed. 

John had started selling his art and putting his music up on streaming sites. It wasn’t too hard for him to gain traction, Kryoz fans were (in general) very supportive of his new creative ventures.

They were supportive of his new relationship too. Smitty was shocked how quick the news spread about the two Froghouse players who were dating the two famous figure skaters. A lot more people started showing up to their games, Smitty noticed.

Some people were assholes about it online, but Smitty learned the very valuable lesson of never reading the comments. With John’s help, the hateful voices got quieter.

His friends, of course, supported them too. They were a bit weary at first, since John and Smitty had jumped right to moving in together, but seeing how happy Smitty was made them ease up. That didn’t stop Matt from threatening John with new ways he could get away with murdering him if he ever broke Smitty’s heart, however. He was starting to get weirdly specific with some of them. It was mildly concerning. 

And though it took some time, John was able to get back into skating just for fun. He worked something out with Evan where he could go to the rink after hours a few times a week. He got to enjoy his hobby again, no more insurmountable pressure to be the best to weigh him down.

Currently, John and Smitty are back at Mellow Point, watching the sunset. It was cold, and there was still snow on the ground from yesterday, but the sky was clear. They huddled close to each other, laying against the windshield of Smitty’s car, just like last time. Only this time, it was officially a date.

“...How many girls have you really brought up here?” John asked.

Smitty figured enough time had passed that he could tell the truth. “Two.”

John laughed. “I knew it! I knew you were fucking lying. You took me to your date spot!”

Smitty rolled his eyes. “Shut up. In my defense I genuinely wasn’t thinking about it like that at the time.”

“Awwww, don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s cute,” John teased. “You wanted me so bad you took me on a date without even realizing it.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.” Despite his words, Smitty was beaming. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“Do I get to keep our friends in the custody battle?” John asked. “Tell me you’ll at least let me see them on weekends.”

“Not a chance.”

John tsked. “You don’t get to keep Pezzy then.”

“...Fine. We can stay together. For the children.”

“Of course.” John joined their hands, bringing them up to his lips so he could press a kiss onto Smitty’s knuckles. “For the children.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, basking in the beauty of the watercolor clouds and setting sun.

“...I called Jess today,” John said eventually.

Smitty’s eyebrows shot up. John and Jess had been mostly no contact since he quit skating professionally. John never planned for that to be permanent, he was only asking her for some space, but Smitty was still surprised he was ready to talk to her again so soon.

“How’d it go?” Smitty asked.

“Good? I think?” John sighed. “I don’t know. I can tell she thinks I’m squandering all my potential, but she doesn’t want to upset me by saying that, so it just makes things awkward. She said she was happy I’m doing well at least, so I guess that's something.”

Smitty squeezed John’s hand. “It’s definitely not nothing.”

“I’m happy for her too, actually. She’d been getting a lot of offers to coach again, but she told me they were all idiots for assuming she would ever coach anyone other than me,” John said. “She has plenty of money to retire if she wanted, but I doubt she ever will. Jess needs work like she needs air. She’s going to go to school to become a physical therapist, to help people who get injured like she did.”

Smitty smiled. “That’s amazing.”

“I know.” Smitty could hear the pride in John’s voice. “...I missed her. Sometimes I wish I didn’t.”

“You said she was like family to you, John. It’s okay that sometimes it gets hard. You grew up with her, and the two of you were practically attached at the hip. Of course you’re going to feel the absence.”

“...Yeah. Yeah. I know I made the right call, and that this is good for us, it just…stings. She used to always be right there, whenever I needed her, and now she’s not.”

“She’s only a phone call away.”

John nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. “Right.”

“Maybe you could visit during the holidays, if you were ready to see her,” Smitty suggested. “She lives near your parents now, doesn’t she? If you’re planning on seeing them she’d probably be able to stop by.”

John shook his head. “My parents have work. And we never celebrated Christmas much anyway.”

“Oh.” 

That sucked. If John wasn’t going home for Christmas, he was going to be all alone. Smitty was visiting relatives—he shouldn't've assumed John would have the privilege of doing the same. 

A solution came to mind. “You should come with me to meet my family.”

John sat straight up, turning to look Smitty in the eyes. “Really? You would be okay with that?”

Smitty shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“...Do they know you’re bi?”

Oh, yeah. That part. He forgot.

“Um…no, they do not,” Smitty confessed. “But I’d like them to. And bringing you would be easier than explaining it.”

John tried not to smile. “Then I would love to go, if you’re sure,” he said. “Can you tell me what they’re like? I don’t want to end up pissing anyone off.”

Smitty laughed. “You won’t. Everyone in my family is pretty laid-back. My mom and dad are pretty quiet, but they’re nice. They just don’t like bothering anyone if they don’t have anything important to say. I promise they’ll like you, but they might not talk to you much. Same with my aunts and uncles. My cousins, however, are not going to leave you alone.”

John’s eyes were shining. “I can’t wait.” He leaned down and gave Smitty’s cheek a quick peck. “You’re gonna need to help me pick out gifts for everyone. I will not show up empty handed.”

“Heh, okay. Sure.”

John was still hovering over him, a few inches away from his face. The last dregs of light from the rapidly disappearing sun cast John in a radiant glow Smitty couldn’t look away from. How the hell did he get so damn lucky?

In no universe could Smitty have imagined things would’ve turned out this way. That he could call John his. It seemed so impossible before, just out of their reach—but then they reached for each other, and that was enough. That was everything.

Suddenly, he remembered those three little words he still hadn’t said. 

He wanted to, of course. He thought about it a lot. It just never felt like the right time.

This did.

“I love you,” Smitty whispered, a quiet admission that held the weight of the world. “You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know.”

John’s face flashed through several emotions, each so clearly on display, before he settled on a smile so bright it was blinding. “Oh, Smit. Isn’t it obvious?” John kissed him so tenderly it made Smitty’s heart feel like it was burning. “I love you more than anything I’ve ever known.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Smitty floated up into the dusky sky, his limbs light and his chest full and his heart soaring. 

Love. What a wonderful word that was. What an overwhelming, incredible, confusingly beautiful feeling. 

Smitty brushed John’s bangs out of his face. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

“I’ll say it as many times as you wanna hear it,” John said. “But, for now, I could just show you exactly how much I mean it.”

He had that glint in his eye, the one Smitty knew always meant trouble. The one Smitty never could say no to.

“What are you waiting for, then?”

John didn’t waste another second.

Smitty wasn’t in any hurry. They had plenty of time.