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Fridays during the off-season usually meant nothing special. An odd nap, usual workouts, normal everyday habits when you’ve got more than enough time on your hands. But this Friday, ironically the 13th, was the day the hockey gods decided to change the norm.
Auston had never been superstitious about anything – anything but the Stanley Cup – until today. He was sleeping in, rightfully so, until he was awoken by chaos. Twenty unread messages. Three missed calls. Social media notifications flooding like a dam had broken in the middle of a storm. That’s when he found out, when the ‘normal Friday’ streak had ended due to the sudden news that dropped. It wasn’t even the article that he saw first, it was a picture. Him. Mitch. In his bright blue Leafs jersey with that stupid grin, but the caption underneath didn’t fit at all.
“Marner era is likely confirmed over in Toronto.”
Auston sat up quickly, rubbing his heavy eyes harshly to try and get rid of the words on his screen, as if he was still dreaming. He scrolled, scanned, analyzed each word, and each one left a harsher sting than the next. Mitch. Leaving. It wasn’t like he could even find a reason to think it was true at first, not with the way Mitch truly just… vanished. No texts. No calls. No explanation. Just gone.
As if it was any comfort, it was clear Auston wasn’t the only one left clueless when he started getting call after call. John called first, confused with that usual blank tone, but it was clear he was worried. Then Morgan. Then even Willy. Everyone on the team seemed to run to Auston to see if he had spoken with him.
“You two are close, right? You must know something.”
Were is what Auston wanted to say, the newfound frustration bubbling in his stomach, but something stopped him. Instead of answering, he shut off the phone and instantly muted it, tossing it onto the mattress with a huff. It’s not like he was angry, just… off. Wrong. Like something had shut off without warning.
It was Friday. Normal Friday. At least that’s what Auston had tried to trick himself to believing again. He had taken Felix for a walk, much longer than normal. Tried to make food, find food, but his constant open and closing of the fridge doors only grew to irritate him more. He gave up on distractions, grabbing his phone and letting his fingers move before his mind could stop them. He couldn’t even scroll an app without seeing his name trending. Everywhere. He couldn’t read the headlines. Every new catchphrase made it feel like his chest was folding in on itself. What was he doing? Why didn’t he just say something? Anything?
After a good while of contemplation, which in reality was only about ten minutes, Auston found himself opening his and Mitch’s messages. He originally opened them to try calling him, to try and find reason to the current.. situation? emptiness? The reason for the pit in his stomach that hasn’t stopped growing since he read that damn headline. However, his eyes seemed to instead linger on the last conversation the two men had. Nearly a week ago, a voice memo from Mitch was the only thing in the chat, besides the thumbs down emoji Auston had tossed back at him in response. Mitch hated when Auston answered with emojis, so he called him right after, and the rest of the conversation was left to memory. As he clicked play, it was like he already knew the words off by heart.
“Tones, you seriously suck at Chel. I hate this game and I’ve won more than you. How are you this bad? You’re lucky you can shoot cause strategy? Not your thing. Now hurry up and hop back on, my controller’s almost dead.”
The laugh was audible in his voice as he nagged Auston, like it always was, and man did it ever make Auston’s mind spin. His thumb hovered over the play again button, but he instead threw his phone face down on the couch, deciding that another random movie was better than driving himself mad.
As the day went on, Auston slowly got back on his ‘Normal’ Friday schedule, at least that’s what he convinced himself. The sun had begun to go down, yet he still hadn’t moved from his spot. At first, he tried to rationalize it, but he quickly grew tired of the idea. He sat in the dark, the tv screen the only light illuminating his solemn expression as he stared blankly at the screen. He felt like he should’ve known something was coming. Mitch had been quieter. More tired. The tiredness that isn’t so easily fixed with sleep. But he didn’t ask. He figured Mitch would’ve told him when he was ready, but it turns out he was wrong, again.
Part of him was hoping Mitch would show up. The obnoxious pattern being knocked on his door as if it was some secret code, just for Auston to open it and see him standing there with random snacks and that wide grin. But he didn’t. So he chose to sit in silence, the movies playing on the screen being nothing but a mere distraction of noise as he sat in his thoughts. Every time a buzz rang through the room, his chest jumped as he flickered his gaze down. And every time he saw it wasn’t him, he felt it drop two times as heavy. As the sun fully fell, he decided it was enough. He shut the movie off, tossing his phone onto the floor next to the couch, not willing enough to move to the comfort of his bed. If Mitch wasn’t going to answer anyone, then he wouldn’t sit there like some lovesick idiot waiting for that stupid notification.
As the night grew silent, a sound that was foreign to the walls ever since the Canadian had started coming over more often, Auston had sunken into a deep sleep. Although, not one deep enough to ignore the buzzing of his phone. He groaned and groggily sat up, his hand mindlessly reaching for it as he squinted to try and read the contact, but failed as it all seemed like white blurred letters. He couldn’t help the bite in his tone, his words slipping out as he laid on his back, “Holy shit- I said I’m fine, stop fucking calling me.” Auston was answered with nothing but silence, not like the annoying nags of Willy telling him to man up and get over it already, that Mitch would explain eventually.
Just as Auston was about to hang up, a soft and barely audible voice cracked through the phone. “...what?”
His heart stopped, that voice being one he could pinpoint in a room full of chatter. It felt like a slap to the face. He bolted upright, his throat feeling dry for a moment, before he managed to let out a mumble. “Mitch?”
Another silence. Not the eerie kind, but a heavy and solemn kind, until it was broken with an even softer, nearly guilty tone. “Yeah, It’s me.”
It felt like suddenly the air had grown thick, like his voice had been taken away from him. Auston swallowed thickly, his eyes staring at his lap as he brought his hand up to run through his hair, attempting to wake himself up and make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He tried to sound stern, but he was genuinely worried, and his voice had cracked on the last word, betraying him. “Where the hell have you been? What’s your deal with just.. Leaving? Going damn radio silent?” His words had a double meaning, but he was equally upset about both.
“I… I didn’t know what to say. How to say it. To you, to the guys. I didn’t think you’d wanna hear it from me.” Now it was Austons turn for silence. Was he serious? A shaky exhale came through the phone, bringing Auston back as he felt something snap.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” His voice boomed out louder than he had meant, certain words straining with everything he hadn’t been able to say all day. “You really think I wanted to find out with the rest of the damn world? On some random Friday? You couldn’t have given me a heads up? A text, Mitch. One fucking text. You ghosted me like- like we didn’t mean anything to each other.”
Mitch hadn’t answered, and Auston wasn’t sure if he didn’t know what to say, or maybe he just didn’t want to speak. They sat in silence, but not for long as Auston’s voice continued its rampage, his feet now pacing the floor of the living room as he went on.
“You’re supposed to be- fuck, you are my best friend Mitch. And you just disappear on me? Like it’s nothing?” More silence. That irritating silence. The one that he took as an invitation to keep talking. “You let the news break before you even built up the guts to talk to me. You left me hanging like I didn’t even deserve a goodbye.”
A shaky breath had broken the silence from the other line, making Auston pause for a moment. He gave him a chance, a second to explain, but all he heard was a shaky mumble through the phone. “I’m sor-”
“Don’t.” Auston’s shaky voice cut in, not from anger anymore, but with a weight of the hollow ache under it. The other end of the call fell silent once more. “Don’t say sorry unless you fucking mean it.”
There was a pause, thick with static and buzzing of the phone glued to his ear as their breaths huffed on each side. He sunk back down onto the couch, as if the anger had drained him of his energy and will to keep pacing. Auston’s voice was small now, tired and wavering. “...You’re an idiot.”
“I know.” And then another pause. But it felt different, not like the pauses where Mitch wasn’t sure what to say, more like one where he was holding himself back. That should’ve been enough to settle him, to give him closure. But it wasn’t. Auston leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he dragged a hand down his face as if it would hold him together.
“You know what pisses me off the most?” he said, his voice unwavering yet quiet at first. “That you didn’t even fight for it.”
“Aus-”
“No. Just let me-” his voice caught. Pathetically at that. The way he felt the lump grow heavy as if his voice was being stolen right from his lips whenever he tried to speak his mind. But he was too stubborn to give in this time, his voice raw as he spoke. “You walked away like it was already decided. Like it didn’t matter- like we didn’t matter enough to try.”
Silence, again. A sound Auston was quickly growing to hate, until a small mumble broke through the phone. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? Because it sure as hell seemed like that today.”
Mitch sighed, shaky, his own voice wavering to match Austons. “You don’t know what it was like. I didn’t want to go- not because of you.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Auston snapped, his shaky voice gone as his tone grew a bite he never would’ve thought of using towards the winger. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”
“Because I knew that if I talked to you, even for a moment, I’d fold.” Mitch admitted, his voice breaking as if it was spilling all its hidden secrets with each crack. “I wouldn’t be able to do it. I’d mess it up. I’d- I didn’t want to make it worse than it already was.”
“You did make it worse.” Auston said flatly, his brows furrowing as his tone grew sharper, not even his face being able to hold back the emotions swirling in his tired mind. “You think silence hurts less? You think watching everyone else post and talk and react while I sat there with nothing from you was better?”
Another damn silence. But now it felt thick. Hot. pressurized. Auston stood again, his feet pacing quicker as he felt his chest rise at a speed that grew unbearable. Nearly suffocating.
“You don’t get to vanish and then show up like this. Not when it’s already too late.” His voice cracked, honest and hollow, and he knew Mitch could tell with the way the breaths grew heavier on the other line. “I would’ve gone down swinging for you Mitch. Yet you didn’t even give me a chance.”
For a moment, a fleeting and pathetic moment, he thought he heard Mitch whisper his name. Just that. Nothing else. Or maybe his mind was taunting him. Taunting him with the things he longed to hear. So he didn’t wait.
“Goodnight.” he said quietly, yet the underlying bite never faded as his finger hit the red button on his screen. He hung up, before even giving Mitch another chance to talk. Despite the shake in his hands, his thumb hovered for a second after the call ended, in case the phone would ring again. In case he’d take it back. But all he was met with was the screen dimming to black, and the reflection of his own tired and pathetic expression staring back at him.
The silence grew louder than it ever had now. It filled the room like a thick fog, wrapped around him, pressing down on his chest harder with each shaky breath he took.
He sank back into the couch, staring at the blank wall ahead as if it would give him something else to think of. But all that rang through his head was the way Mitch sounded on the other end. The soft, cracking “I know” like he meant it. Austons fingers twitched around the phone. He told himself not to. That it was over. That he made his point. But it was like Mitch knew he was about to close it off for good. He felt the vibration of a buzz on his palm. Once. Then twice. A continuous wave of zaps filled the heavy silence that started to eat at Auston’s mind.
MITCH [11:53 PM]:
You didn’t have to hang up on me.
Auston stared. He didn’t answer. But the typing from the other end showed up almost instantly, like Mitch knew Auston was reading them anyway.
MITCH [11:54 PM]:
This is ridiculous.
I get that you’re pissed, but what the hell did you want me to say? That I was excited to leave? That I wanted this?
Auston’s jaw clenched, his fingers typing before he could bring himself to stop them.
AUSTON [11:54 PM]:
I wanted you to say something, Mitch. Anything. Before the rest of the world found out right along with me.
MITCH [11:55 PM]:
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t even say it out loud without feeling sick, Auston.
I knew that if I called you, I’d fold.
Auston quickly shut the screen off, tossing his phone onto the couch beside him. He blinked once. Then twice. He had to stick to his word. He wasn’t about to get pulled into this. But then the screen lit up again.
MITCH [11:56 PM]:
I really did try.
Another bubble showed up, lingering for a moment, then vanished. And again, showed up once more, just to vanish again. It was like the man was toying with him. He shouldn’t be waiting for his words, but he couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere but the screen.
MITCH [11:57 PM]:
I kept typing it over and over, just to end up deleting it. I wanted to tell you so badly, I just didn’t know how.
Auston quickly started typing, his gut sinking as he felt himself falter for a moment, shutting out the reason in his mind as he felt himself slipping. He needed to stop this.
AUSTON [11:57 PM]:
Don’t do this now.
You don’t get to play sad after shutting me out this whole time.
Then came another pause. A long pause. One that made Auston realize there was nothing he hated more in the world than that aching suffocation of silence. Until the buzz snapped him back to the present.
MITCH [11:59 AM]:
I wasn’t trying to shut you out.
I was trying to protect myself. And you.
But now I think, well, now I know that I ended up breaking both of us anyway.
Auston felt his chest ache. He couldn’t tell from what anymore. The thick silence. His heavy breaths he didn’t realize were speeding up. The swirls in his gut with each and every letter his eyes read. He blinked harshly. No. No, he wasn’t doing this.
AUSTON [00:00 AM]:
Just stop.
Please.
MITCH [00:00 AM]:
I miss you.
I miss being yours.
Those extra few words seemed to be the final straw for Auston, but not in an angered way. In a way where, if he read one more word, one more plea, one more confession, he’d cave. He’d fall instantly into whatever the man said and would forget the pain he caused him. He ignored the following buzzes, shutting his phone off fully, the screen blanking like he wished his mind could.
The apartment had fallen silent. Again. Auston sat there in the dark, elbows on his knees with his eyes locked on the blank TV screen as if it might flicker to life and distract him from the hollow ache blooming in his chest. His phone hadn’t budged, staying face down and powered off, safe from more confessions he wasn’t ready to read.
Then the silence was broken. Not by Auston, but by knocking on the door. Three quick taps, a pause, then two more. That same stupid rhythm Mitch had been using since they were rookies, always being too stubborn to use the doorbell since he found them too loud.
Auston didn’t move at first. Didn’t breathe. Part of him wanted to ignore it. Pretend it was a coincidence. Some random fluke. But then it came again. And something in him, something small and exhausted and still stupidly in love, stood up and went to the door. He didn’t even look through the peephole, he didn’t need to. He just opened it.
Mitch stood there, hoodie pulled tight over his head, eyes puffy and red. He didn’t say anything, and neither did Auston. They just looked at each other, until finally, Auston stepped back. It was like he couldn’t keep Mitch out, no matter how upset he was.
“Come in.” And Mitch did. Slowly. As if he wasn’t sure he was allowed. The air was thick, unbearable, as Mitch stepped in the dark apartment and slipped off his shoes, putting them mindlessly in the spot he had silently reserved for him on Auston’s shoe rack ever since the first visit. And the sight made Austons gut sink further. All the normalcy, all the habits they had, were all being stripped right from his bare hands.
They both eventually made their way to the couch, one cushion of space between them as if it physically hurt to get closer. The silence was thick. It stretched long. Auston could hear the faint hum of the fridge, the occasional car driving by, but neither of them seemed to know how to break the silence, yet Mitch was the one to try first.
“I didn’t know what else to do to get you to really hear me,” he said, his voice hoarse as he continued. “I didn’t even know if you’d open the door honestly.”
Auston said nothing, just stared ahead, hands clasped tight between his knees as if he could keep his walls up if he stayed physically still enough.
“I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror today,” Mitch whispered, his words growing heavier with each sound that escaped his lips. “I kept thinking about what you’d say. If you’d be mad, or just… disappointed.”
The silence was now being thrown at Mitch, Auston's jaw clenched as he tried to keep himself stern, but it grew harder with each passing moment.
“I wanted to call earlier. I- I wrote six different drafts of a message,” Mitch went on, his voice calm in its tone, yet the raw emotion seeped through, as if he was speaking anything that came to mind. “At first I made it a joke, then scrapped it. I had one of me just saying sorry over and over. One of them I deleted mid sentence cause I realized it sounded like a breakup text and I don’t think that's how I wanted it.”
“You could’ve sent any of them.” Auston muttered, his eyes refusing to glance at the Canadian, despite his mind clearly focusing on nothing but him and his words.
“I know.” Mitch kept rambling, desperate now as his words sped up, as if he was scared to run out of breath before he got everything out to Auston. “I was scared that if I said the wrong thing, that you’d hate me. Or if i said the right thing, it’d still hurt, and I wouldn’t be able to take it back. And I- fuck- I didn’t want this to be goodbye, Tones. I didn’t want this to be the last thing you remembered about me.”
Auston could feel Mitch’s eyes from the side, staring him down, yet he gave no grace of returning his gaze as he stayed silent, earning nothing but quicker words spilling from Mitch’s mouth.
“I thought- maybe if I didn’t say anything, it wouldn’t feel real yet. That if I held off telling you, it wouldn’t actually happen.”
“Mitch.” Auston warned quietly, but Mitch kept going as he looked away again, words tumbling like he couldn’t stop them now that they had started.
“I kept replaying the last game, the last time we were on the bench together. You tapped your stick against mine and I didn't even realize that might be it.” He huffed out a laugh, but it was hollow. “I was so fucking naïve.”
“Mitch.” Auston repeated, firmer this time, feeling his hand clasp one another tighter as he fought the urge to look at the man next to him.
“I didn’t want to break this,” Mitch said, his eyes flickering back towards Auston. “You and me. I thought if I kept my distance, I’d make it easier on you. I thought-”
“Stop it.” Auston snapped, his voice cracking in the middle of it, the raw sound making Mitch flinch as his words slowed for the first time that night. “Stop trying to fix it.”
Mitch’s eyes flickered with something fragile, something desperate, as Auston’s voice took it’s turn to spill out. “Just- stop acting like this is some noble sacrifice. You don’t get to pretend this was for my sake. This is the nature of the business, yet you didn’t protect me. You blindsided me.”
Mitch’s throat bobbed, his words now slow as they fought their way out of his mouth. “I know.”
“You left me to read headlines, Mitch.”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You should’ve picked up the damn phone.”
Mitch didn't argue, he just looked down at his hands shaking in his lap. “I wasn’t ready to lose you.” His voice croaked out, barely above a whisper.
Auston stood first, but not out of anger this time, he just… couldn’t sit still anymore. The pain was too loud in his chest. He started pacing. “You don’t get to vanish and come back and expect it to be okay.”
Mitch stood too, his hands dropping at his sides, yet he stood still. “I’m not expecting anything. I just- I needed to see you.”
“Well congratulations,” Auston spat out, that harsh tone biting Mitch like it never had before. “Here I am.”
Another silence. Heavy. Guttural.
Mitch took a step forward, his eyes glistening in the dark room as they never once faltered from Auston’s gaze. “I never stopped caring. You know that right?”
Auston didn’t respond. His arms had folded across his chest now, like he was physically holding himself together.
“You think I didn’t want to call you?” Mitch said, voice rising. “I stared at your name on my phone more times than I can count. I wanted to hear your voice, I missed your laugh. I missed hearing you yell at Chel and blame the controller I missed- everything.”
Auston’s face twisted, matching the feeling in his gut as he spoke out. “Then why didn’t you call?”
Mitch’s voice dropped, his voice shaking more by the minute. “Because I was scared that hearing you would make it real. That it’d be goodbye. And I didn’t know how to say goodbye to you.”
Auston stared at him for a long moment. He hated how his eyes burned. How his voice came out soft and hollow. “You didn’t have to say goodbye. You just had to say something.”
“I’m saying it now.” Mitch stepped forward again, yet Auston didn’t move. And somehow, without words, without planning, they were both standing, inches apart. The closeness felt like it might split them open, including everything they were holding back.
“I didn’t want to leave this,” Mitch whispered. “Not you.”
“Then don’t,” Auston said quietly, desperately. “Don’t leave like this.”
Mitch blinked, tears finally slipping down his cheeks. He instantly felt the warm touch of Auston’s hand meet the tears, as if he couldn’t help himself from trying to comfort the winger with his touch. Though it was different from the comfort they felt on the ice. The crushing hugs from one another after every goal. The smiles and laughs. This was different. This was raw. The touch was gentle and tender, as if he was scared he’d break his skin if he held it too tight, yet it still brought the comfort they both knew they longed for. “I’d stay if I could. You know I would.”
Auston nodded, his thumb catching the few stray tears that fell from Mitch’s puffy eyes, and it made his heart sink that he wasn’t there to soothe all the others that had fallen prior. He exhaled through his nose, watching as Mitch’s head tilted into the touch on his cheek. “You’re such an idiot.”
Mitch smiled faintly, his eyes never leaving Auston’s, though now they held a softer gaze. “You’ve said that twice tonight.”
“And I meant it both times.” Another pause. Another breath, thick swallows and heavy breaths filling the silence in the room as their eyes refused to look anywhere but the others.
Auston was the one to finally blink, his voice barely above a whisper. “We suck at goodbyes.”
Mitch let out the queitest laugh, a shaky, broken sound. “Yeah, well, I always liked hellos better anyway.”
They stood like that for a moment longer, Auston's hand holding Mitch’s cheek to catch any lingering tears, two ghosts haunting the space where everything used to be easy. Where it used to be them, side by side, night after night, with a silent and unknowing countdown ticking in the background.
Auston’s gaze was the first to falter, landing on the controllers sticking out of the edge of the tv stand, as if they were waiting. As if they were calling back with the old memories, laughs, and naïve moments of joy.
“Wanna play a game?” he asked, his eyes flickering back to Mitch as he slowly dropped his hand, the warmth leaving his palm as he swallowed thickly.
Mitch blinked, his eyes still blurred from tears as he mumbled. “Now?”
Auston shrugged, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, trying to be the strong one. “One last time. On the same team.”
There was silence again, but it felt different this time. Not distant. Not filled with unspoken anger and resentment. Just… full. Mitch sniffled, wiping under his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie as he spoke. “I’ll probably suck, you know I hate it.”
“You always do.” Auston’s words earned a tear filled laugh from Mitch, who finally smiled, small and sad, but real. “But you’ll play anyway?” He asked gently, walking towards the console.
Mitch nodded, his voice soft as he followed Auston, like it was second nature for him at this point. “Sure, I’ll suffer through Chel, only if I get to be on your line.”
Auston stood tall, something he hadn’t been able to do all day, not until Mitch was there smiling in front of him. He smiled gently, handing him the second controller as their fingers brushed, barely, but enough. “Always.”