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When your boyfriend is the captain of a Major Hockey League team, you are often left home alone a lot. And you find ways to entertain yourself.
Not in the sexual sense. Well, there is plenty of sexual entertainment late into the night over FaceTime with said hockey team captain, but Kip is referring to entertainment in the gaming sense.
He starts an amateur streaming career in his last year of college, trying to scrounge up some funds for graduate school while playing horror games. It is never supposed to be a full-time career thing, but he manages to stay consistent enough to gain a couple of loyal viewers, and the couple of bucks every few months doesn’t hurt.
So, here he is, booting up his laptop with a camera attached, placing his headphones over his head, and starting the game.
===
“What are you watching?” Scott asks the new kid, Jefferson. They have a tradition of rooming the captain with one of the younger teammates during road trips, in hopes that the younger player feels more secure and safer. But in Scott’s eyes, Jefferson seems pretty secure, considering he is laughing hysterically at his tiny phone screen with his headphones in.
“Oh, nothing, just a streamer.”
“A streamer?” Scott tilts his head in confusion. Rooming with a teammate ten years his junior does nothing but make him feel ancient. Maybe Ilya Rozanov is right. Maybe he is old.
“Right, you’re old, I forgot,” Jefferson says. “Basically, these people go live when they play games, and I watch them.”
His eyes never leave the screen. “He’s so fire too. Plays horror games and walks into every jump scare.”
Scott nods, pretending to understand. He is trying so hard to get in touch with the youth, but with all the new slang and terminology coming out, he can’t quite seem to catch up.
“Wanna watch? I can pull it up on my laptop,” Jefferson offers. It is weird, but Scott agrees nonetheless.
What comes up on the laptop screen makes Scott do a double-take.
It is Kip. In what looks most definitely like Scott’s bedroom. And in a familiar red hoodie that resembles one that Scott owns.
It is Scott’s bedroom. The distinct wall art gives it away.
Kip’s head is turned toward a screen off-camera, his eyes squinted shut as the character on-screen walks through a creepy door. A corpse jumps up, causing Kip to scream and throw his headphones down, spinning in a circle in the background. Jefferson cackles and immediately starts typing into the chat, some random gibberish that is most definitely not English. It looks more like a cat walked over a keyboard.
A smile forms on Scott’s face anyway. To see Kip in his home, wearing his hoodie, screaming into his pillow as he tries to recover from a very predictable jump scare (in Scott’s opinion).
“Oh, wait. Do you two have the same hoodie? I think I’ve seen you wear that red hoodie to practice,” Jefferson asks, finally looking up at Scott. “Maybe he’s a Scott Hunter fan too.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
That is how Scott finds himself signing up for a Twitch account.
The annoying line was blinking at him in the “username” box. He didn’t want Kip to know he is watching him, but maybe Kip will finally think he is cool and hipster.
AdmiralsCaptainNYC. No, that’s way too obvious. How many New York Admirals captains are out there? One, and it’s him.
ExtraBanana. That just sounds wrong. And probably violates all the rules of Twitch. In fact, the username is making Scott twitch in his seat.
He glanced around his hotel room, looking for anything that would make a good username. That was what Google said to do anyways. His gaze lands on the pair of blue socks that are sticking out his hockey bag.
BrooklynBlueMoon. Fuck, it was taken.
TooOldForTwitch. How is this taken too?
Scott threw his hands up in frustration and punched in “21” after the user. And it works.
He goes through the onboarding as fast as he can, clicking random buttons so the site allows him to head to the home page. With impressive speed, Scott reaches Kip’s page and sees that he streamed yesterday, with some highlights posted on his page. He gingerly clicks on one, making sure his headphones are on, and can’t help but grin when his boyfriend pops onto his screen.
“Hey Twitch! It’s your boy Kip here. I am once again here, and some of you mentioned I should play Resident Evil 2 because you all enjoyed watching me literally fall out of my chair during our playthrough of 1. So here I am. I hope you all enjoy my suffering.” Kip beamed in the video, his eyes glistening as he talked into the camera.
The comments in the chat fly by, one popping up after the other, all mentioning how excited they were to see Kip play. Scott knows Kip is a big gamer, he had briefly mentioned it when Kip showed up at his apartment with a massive gaming laptop and ranted about his favorite games while Scott did the dishes. But to see that Kip had such a loyal following on this little purple platform makes Scott’s heart swell.
Without Scott realizing, he had finished the stream recording. Kip really knew how to hold an audience, that’s for sure. There were times where Scott was also so drawn into the game that he got scared along with Kip. He was not that different from how he was with Scott, less dramatic for the camera of course, but the mannerisms were the same. The same loud swears when someone takes him by surprise. It was nice, and it felt like Scott was also in his bedroom, listening to his boyfriend game as he read a book on the bed.
He pulls out his phone and shoots Kip a message.
Scott: How are you? I miss you.
A reply comes almost instantaneously.
Kip: i miss you too.
Kip: my day was good
Kip: worked on some grad school applications and played some games.
Kip: how was practice?
Scott: Not bad. Vaughn managed to jump over Wagner at one point. I don’t know what happened and I don’t really want to know.
Kip: lol sounds about right
Kip: youre playing boston tmr?
Scott: Yeah, can’t wait to kick Rozanov’s ass
Kip: go get him sunshine <3
Kip: i gtg dad made lasagna for dinner and he wants me to be his test rabbit
Kip: women’s rights and all but good god this man cannot cook i need mom back in the kitchen now
Scott: You’re back at your place tonight?
Kip: yeah, havent had dinner with the fam in a bit
Kip: dad is complaining that his only son doenst love him anymore
Kip: im his only son
Scott: Your dad just misses you
Kip: i know i know
Kip: ill text you before i go to bed
Kip: muah muah i love u <3
Scott sends a big blue heart emoji in return and continues scouring through Kip’s Twitch page until he has seen every single one of his past streams.
===
Scott lets out a frustrated sigh as he plants himself firmly on the bench. The Admirals did not kick Boston’s ass, it was more the Admirals handed Boston their ass. The team knows better than to talk to him when they had a bad loss, like now.
He manages to untie and kick his skates off, shove most of his belongings into his duffel bag and leave the locker room.
The hotel room was empty when he got back. Scott gets in the shower, letting the frustration of the game wash away with soapy warm water. His mood is slightly better when he gets out, but his mind is still replaying moments from the game.
It is a slippery slope, and he knows it. The mind ruminates on moments from the game, thinking how he could have done this, or that, and maybe the Admirals would not have lost as gruesomely. It was worse when it was on Boston ice, the crowd was deafening when all the shot attempts were blocked by the goalie, or when Boston made a goal.
He flops onto his bed and unlocks his phone, a small smile creeping on his face as he sees the wall of text messages from Kip.
Kip: bro rozanov does nOT play fair
Kip: NOOOOO he did not
Kip: i love u but if u get into a fight with rozanov and he bruises ur beautiful face im going to kill you and then him and then me
Kip: im rioting im burning boston down
Kip: for legal reasons that was a joke
Kip: FUCKKKKK why is their goalie sO GOOD
Kip: ur goalie is great too dont get me wrong but u said he was injured right
Kip: u look so sad :( its ok babe
Kip: ok i have to run tonight i have smth to do and ill text u when im done
Kip: text me when u get home!!!! i love u <3
Scott types a brief reply, but as his fingers are flying across the keyboard, a notification pops up.
kipthehistorybuff just went live!
Well, there goes Scott’s evening plans. Not that he has any to begin with, the night was looking like take out pizza and The Great British Bakeoff.
Scott gets under the covers, and untangles his headphones from his bedside table and clicks on the video.
“Hey Twitch! I know I promised to stream tonight but the game made me so pissed off, so I am just going to keep this short and sweet. Go Admirals by the way!” Kip starts. He is wearing one of Scott’s jerseys, as if to protest their loss or something. “If there are Boston fans in the chat, I’m sorry I love you, but I really can't look at you right now.”
And just like that, all of Scott’s frustrations and anger seems to melt away to the sound of Kip’s mouseclicks and keyboard clicks, and of course the occasional yelp and gasp.
===
Scott fucked up. He knows this. And he doesn't know how to fix it and it is making him so miserable. He puts the grey sock over his banana socks, and slips his right foot into his boot. Right first, then left. Always.
It’s been a week since Kip stormed out of his apartment and Scott misses him. His heart aches and tingles at the thought of Kip. He knows Kip has a reason to be mad, anyone in his situation does. But Scott doesn't know what to do.
They haven't contacted each other in the last week, and Scott has been rereading all the texts between them. The way Kip never capitalizes his words, or the wall of short bursts of messages that he sends, there was nothing. Scott keeps picking up his phone when it pings, hope in his heart that it was Kip, only to be disappointed when it was the team group chat or some random app notification.
Scott also hasn't been playing well. The Admirals have been on a losing streak since, well, two weeks ago. At first, the boys joked that Scott lost his mojo, that whatever he was doing wasn't working anymore. And then they saw how utterly devastated and exhausted their captain looked, and swallowed all sorts of jokes or jabs they had in mind.
He should reach out. He was the one who fucked up.
Scott has been thinking of coming out, as Kip mentioned the day he stormed off. And the thought terrifies him. He could lose everything he has worked so hard on. Hockey, his teammates, his career. But he already lost something that felt more than everything.
Scott lost Kip.
And Kip is worth a whole lot more than everything.
kipthehistorybuff is live!
Scott instinctively picks up his phone, and the notification makes him stop in his tracks. Kip hasn't gone live in the last two weeks, posting apology notes on his Twitch page saying something personal came up, and he needed some time to handle it. The chat was very respectful of course, wishing Kip whatever he was going through that it will work out.
It will work out.
They had a bit of time before the game, and most of the guys in the locker room were still getting ready. Scott clicked into the stream hesitantly, slipping on his headphones, and let out a big exhale when he saw Kip on his screen.
Kip looks…sad. His hair is messier than usual, he is wearing his glasses, and he looks so tired. The usual light in his eyes is not there, and his smile doesn't quite reach the corner of his lips.
Scott wants to reach into the screen, hug Kip and mutter apologies until Kip forgives him. But Kip isn't in his apartment, he isn't in Scott’s hoodies or clothes. He’s back at his own place, wearing his own clothes.
Scott just feels like crying.
“S’cuse me,” he mutters as he barges through the locker room, ignoring the heads turning as he finds a toilet stall to lock himself in. He let a single tear roll down his cheek as Kip rambled passionately about how this game hates him and wants him breaking a bone.
But Scott knows Kip is miserable too. It’s written all over his face. The way his shoulder slumps, his laugh not as bright as it's supposed to be, the way his eyes keep darting off screen as if he is waiting for something. Maybe a text message. Scott should text him.
Scott presses his knuckles to his mouth, breathing carefully so he doesn’t make a sound. The locker room is loud again, someone laughing, someone slamming a stall, but all he can hear is Kip’s voice through his headphones.
“I swear, if this game gives me another jumpscare, I’m quitting the game,” Kip says, as he attempts a smile.
The chat must have sensed something is wrong, because it is going slower than Scott remembers it to be. Less jokes or commentary, more compassionate and concern.
ChronicleighOnline: if you need some time to yourself please take care!
VibeCheckGame: He looks sad :(
PixelPants77: We love you Kip!
And Scott’s fingers move before he could realize what is happening.
TooOldForTwitch21: I miss you
Kip falls silent as his eyes scans the chat. “Wow, um, thanks guys. Yeah, life has been a bit rough lately, just some personal stuff and it has been plaguing my mind for a bit.”
TooOldForTwitch21: It will work out. I promise.
Scott freezes the moment his fingers hit send. His heart slams so hard he thinks he might be sick.
Kip pauses mid-step in the game.
“I hope it does too,” he mutters. “I hope he wants it to work out too.”
And before Scott can overthink it, he switches applications to the messaging app. His thumbs move on instinct as it taps furiously across the keyboard.
Scott: I want it to work out. Give me some time.
Kip glances off screen as his phone pings, his jaw falling slightly apart as he reads the words on his phone. His hand is on his mouse, frozen.
The game keeps going without him, ambient creaks, distant footsteps, but Kip isn’t moving. His eyes flick between his phone and the chat, back and forth like he’s afraid one of them will disappear if he looks away too long.
“…Uh,” he breathes, voice barely there. “Sorry, chat. Give me—give me one second.”
He mutes himself.
Scott watches as Kip grabs his phone and read the message again. He knows that look. The way Kip’s eyebrows knit together, the way his thumb hovers over the screen like he’s scared to touch it too hard.
The typing bubble appears on Scott’s side.
It disappears.
And appears again.
Scott’s chest aches. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe Scott has lost Kip long ago.
Then his phone buzzes.
Kip: are you watching my stream?
Scott squeezes his eyes shut, forehead resting against the cool metal wall of the stall.
Scott: Yeah.
Scott: I’m sorry, you don’t deserve to be hidden.
Scott: I want to show you off to the world that I love you. That I have loved you since the day I stepped foot in that smoothie shop. I want to tell my teammates about you, and they are going to love you because they know how much I adore you.
On-screen, Kip drags a hand down his face. He pushes his glasses up, blinking fast.
He unmutes.
“Okay,” Kip says, a little breathless. “Um. Chat. I think I’m gonna end the stream early tonight.”
A chorus of <3 and take care! floods the screen.
“I love you guys,” he adds quickly, a soft smile tugging at his mouth. “Thank you for being patient with me. I’ll be back really soon.”
And the screen turns dark.
Scott slides down the stall wall until he’s sitting on the floor, knees pulled to his chest. The locker room noise feels far away now, like it’s happening in another universe.
His phone buzzes again.
Kip: you don’t have to do this
Scott: I do. Please, trust me. I will make this right.
Kip: okay
And the bubble with the three dots disappears.
Scott unlocks the bathroom stall, taking a deep breath as he steps out. He’s going to fix things, but first, he is going to win the game.