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The game had been tense. Smitty’s team had been tied with Matt’s at 5-5, with only one minute left on the clock. It was a quick, fun round. They were playing some of their friends, and Matt and Smitty, being the only two professional hockey players, were picked as team captains. Smitty’s team consisted of Puffer, Droid, and Grizzy, while Matt’s had Pezzy, John, and Yumi. The buzzer went off, and Matt and Smitty immediately fought for the puck. Matt scurries away with the puck, but not for too long, as Droid practically scoops it away from him, laughing like a witch as he skates away. It’s a race to skate to the other side and shoot a goal into the net. John gets near the net as he sees the Droid approach at almost rapid speeds. He swung, but John luckily saved it with a nice block before shooting it to Pezzy. Smitty sighed loudly seeing John block, John flashing him a shit eating grin. Pezzy skated to Yumi, who was already skating to their goal. Pezzy tries to pass it to him, but Grizzy, seemingly out of nowhere, steals the puck.
There were now only 20 seconds left.
The bigger man now tries to shoot from the halfway point, but it is too far, prompting both Smitty and Matt to chase after it. Their speeds go increasingly fast as they are almost touching shoulders. They could hear each other’s pants of breath and mutters of curses. Just as they were about to get the puck, they both got slammed into the ice rink wall. Smitty hit his left side hard as Matt was hit in the front and immediately fell. Smitty, who was now trying not to fall on the ice, scrambled to get his balance on his skates. While doing so, he feels the heel of his skates cut something soft.
”Shit- FUCK!“ Matt exclaimed.
Smitty skates a few feet away from Matt to give him space to get up. He turns to him, his right cheek was uncomfortably bleeding and staining the ice like food coloring to water. “Shit, Matt I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Smitty said, going over to him to give him a hand to get out. “I’m not fucking okay!” Matt responded, his tone angry and stern. Yumi and Puffer skated to him, helping him get up and towards the ice rink's exit. Matt made eye contact with him as he stepped out of the ice, and it made Smitty’s breath stop.
He had royally fucked up.
The rest of them had called it a tie til further notice, putting away the equipment and leaving the ice rink. All the boys, except for Matt and Puffer, changed out of their hockey gear and put on their regular clothes in the locker room. Smitty stuffs in the last of his garments into his duffel bag, his left arm aching in pain. Puffer then enters the locker room and approaches Smitty, “Hey, Matt wants you to help him with his cut.”. Smitty’s face read with confusion, “Wait, why me? I thought you and Yumi were helping him.”.
”We were, but then Matt said he wanted ‘that Canadian bastard’ to help him instead.”
”Is he still mad?”
“He called you a Canadian bastard, what do you think?”
Smitty sighed heavily, "Okay, I'll help him." He zipped up his duffle bag before taking it with him and walking to the nurse's office. The lights that gave a yellow tint in the mint green hallway slightly flickered above Smitty. He had hope he didn’t piss off Matt too much. He had lately been hanging out with him more than usual, sure they were childhood best friends, but almost every day they would go to the ice rink and play hockey with each other. Sometimes he just enjoyed it when it was just him and Matt playing alone. He liked how loose Matt would get as he tried to steal the hockey puck. He liked how Matt would flash him a grin every time he scored a point. He liked how smooth he was on the ice, like he was just walking on it. He liked so many things about Matt, it was such a weird thing to Smitty. Perhaps it was his respect for Matt, or maybe it was envy. Whatever it was, it made him want to hang out with him more.
Smitty approached the door, his heart beating as he saw Matt sitting on one of those benches with parchment paper on top of it through the frosted textured glass window on the door. He’s still holding the bloody cut on his face with his right hand and scrolling on his phone with the other. Smitty places his hand on the door knob, the cold metal sending shivered down his spine before twisting it and pushing it open. Matt looked up from his phone to see the older Canadian standing there awkwardly, Matt couldn’t help but smile at him. “Puffer said you wanted me?” Smitty asked. “That’d be correct,” Matt responded as Smitty closed the door behind him.
Smitty goes over to the sink to wash his hands, and the water on his hands that dripped down turned a light brown. After drying them off with the provided brown paper towels, he searched the mirror cabinet for small alcohol wipes and some gauze and tape. He also took some of the paper towels, just in case the wound was still bleeding, and walked over to Matt. Matt dangled his feet out of the bench like a little kid who couldn’t touch the floor. “Let me see what we are working with,” Smitty said, lightly moving Matt’s hand away from the wound. It was a gash, but luckily not another too serious one, though he would need to get stitches. “Jesus Christ,” Smitty muttered, putting his thumb just outside the wound. Matt made slight shifts, fearing that Smitty would poke at it, and he would feel immense pain. “It’s like someone did this to me on purpose,” Matt said, emphasizing someone. Smitty opened an alcohol wipe, “I won't touch the cut, only around it.”.
”You promise?”
”Promise. Now don’t move, this is gonna sting,” Smitty places the wipe between his fingers, ready to do a swift wipe.
”Wait,” Matt blurted out just before Smitty could wipe the gash. “Is it fine if I hold you’re hand?”, Matt mumbles.
Smitty felt taken aback by the question. He’d never thought Matt would be the type to be scared of pain, let alone ask to hold someone’s hand through the process. But Smitty didn’t mind; if anything, he was the opposite. He loved it when they made physical contact. A hug, an arm around Smitty’s shoulders, an accidental brush against hands, he loved it all. So Smitty almost didn’t hesitate to say yes to the offer, taking Matt’s right hand. When Smitty wiped the wound, which had luckily stopped bleeding but had dried up blood around the area, Matt hissed through his teeth, squeezing Smitty's hand. Smitty honestly wishes he could stay like this, faces inches away from each other while holding hands; it was all like a dream to him.
Once Smitty was done, he threw the wipe away in the biohazard bin. While walking back to Matt, Smitty spoke, "Look, I'm sorry things got rough on the ice. I didn't mean to hurt you, man-". Matt shushed him, "It's fine, I'm sorry for being an asshole to you, I know you didn't mean it,". Smitty felt all the anxiety in him vanish from thin air. He carefully places the gauze over the gash, placing small tape on each side. "Luckily, it stopped bleeding, but you'll definitely need stitches," Smitty said, going over to the sink to wash his hands again. "I can drive you to the ER if you want, my treat.".
"Where's the treat in getting stitches?"
"You'll get a lollipop and a sticker afterwards."
They both laughed as they walked out of the nurses' room, feeling the tension slip away. It was nice when they weren't mad at each other, even if it was little things. It meant a lot to them cause they loved spending time together. Every moment they aren't together, it feels very boring; maybe even sad. Smitty waited for Matt outside the locker room as he was still wearing his hockey gear. Not too long afterwards, the younger man came out, only wearing a white long-sleeved sweater with black pants. They were the last ones left in the entire hockey center, so they made sure all lights were turned off before they left the building. While doing so, Matt spoke, "Thank you, by the way.". Smitty looked back at him, his cheek was lightly flushed pink.
"Yeah no problem man, it was my fault anyway."
"No, I mean like really, thank you."
Smitty took a minute to take in what Matt said, their faces were, once again, only a few feet away from each other. They could feel each other's warmth despite wearing sweaters, hearts beating out of their chest. And without warning, Matt lightly grabbed Smitty by his sweater collar and pulled him in for a kiss. Smitty's lips were delicate and soft with a hint of some sort of flavored chapstick. They both closed their eyes, deepening their kiss. Smitty wished that they could stay like this forever; he felt like he was on cloud 9. They parted ways, looking into each other's eyes deeply. "Wow," Smitty muttered. They both chuckled at how Smitty reacted, "That was amazing.".
"How long we're you crushing for?"
"Hmm, about a year now,"
"Really? Though'd it be longer."
"Why, what about you?"
"Like 5 years now."
"Double wow,"
They both erupted in laughter, finishing up by closing the hockey building before stepping outside. Smitty hadn't realized that the two were now holding hands, and it was nice. Nice being able to have the boyfriend of his dreams without worrying that he doesn't like him back. They could cuddle and touch each other affectionately as far as consent went. It was everything Smitty could ask for. Smitty felt like he was getting caught up in all of this; after all, Matt needed stitches at the ER. They both entered Smitty's car, Matt sitting in the passenger seat and Smitty in the driver's seat. "Will you hold my hand again when I get my stickers?" Matt asked. Smitty chuckled as he backed out of his parking spot.
"Sure thing buddy."