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Troy had good days and bad days– everyone did, but Harris was only attuned to his own and to Troy’s. They had been dating for months now and Harris thought he was getting a good handle on what Troy looked like on a good day and on a bad day. He could tell from the moment he saw Troy that it was a bad day. Troy was sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over with his head in his hands; that would’ve been enough to tell it was a bad day, but he was also wearing an old Guardians t-shirt that Harris knew Troy only took out when he was feeling self destructive. Harris knew he’d have to approach this cautiously, so he carefully set about making some hot chocolate for the two of them so they could talk. If Troy noticed Harris had entered, he didn’t say anything.
“Hey, handsome,” Harris said softly, setting the hot chocolate down in front of Troy, who finally looked up; it didn’t take a genius to tell that Troy had been crying. “Bad day?”
“I’m fine,” Troy muttered out as if Harris couldn’t clearly see something was wrong. “Just… Yeah. ‘M fine.”
He took the hot chocolate, just holding the mug in his hands, but not drinking it– this usually meant Troy wanted the warmth of Harris’s hands but wouldn’t allow himself to take them. Harris frowned at this, fighting the urge to push Troy and take his hands; he knew that wouldn’t help in the wrong run, though, so he refrained. “Are you sure, hon? Because between you and me, you’re not looking to hot.”
Troy gave a weak laugh at that– hollow and brittle, snapping through the air like dry twigs. “Yeah, I’d imagine I’m not.”
“You wanna tell me what happened?” Troy didn’t say anything, just opening his phone and sliding it across the table at Harris. Dallas Kent victims agree to settlement the headline read. Former Toronto Guardian expected to return to playing by the end of the year. “Oh, Troy…”
As much as Harris hated to admit it, it wasn’t necessarily surprising that Kent wasn’t getting jail time. Just like it wasn’t necessarily surprising that Toronto was going to stand by Kent and let him return to playing. The league had made some serious strides since Scott Hunter, but that didn’t mean everything was fixed– and with teams like the Guardians, Harris wasn’t sure they could ever be fixed. That didn’t mean that he hadn’t hoped it could be fixed, especially with someone as horrible as Kent was. Unfortunately for Harris, his hopes were unfounded– and the fallout hurt Troy in the process.
“I should’ve known,” Troy muttered, mostly to himself. “I should’ve known that things weren’t going to change– not for him– but god it still…” He sighed, finally looking up at Harris. “It’s still going to get bad again, isn’t it? For everyone.”
“Troy–”
“Why do you even love me?” Troy asked, startling Harris with his bluntness. “I mean, seriously, Harris. I’m an awful person– I’ve been an awful person for years. I supported a monster for so long just to make myself anything other than a target– I put countless of others into the line of fire in order to save myself. How could you– with your warmth and kindness and openness– possibly love me after I spent so long being terrible?”
Troy’s chest was heaving by the time he finished his tirade– something Harris would normally find hot, but not in these circumstances. Not when he could see the tears pricking at Troy’s eyes and the stiff, scared way he was holding himself. All Harris wanted to do was pull Troy into a hug, but he knew that wasn’t the answer his boyfriend needed right now. Troy needed words, and Harris needed to use them.
“I don’t think you’re terrible,” Harris started gently. “I think you’ve spent so long being afraid that you don't know how to let yourself not be afraid. I think that fear made you hate yourself and that hatred made you lash out in order to fit in. I think– I know– that when it mattered most you stepped away from that safety you had garnered for yourself. You risked everything to call Kent out on his bullshit– that’s not something a terrible person does, sweetheart.”
“If I had just said something sooner–”
“You can’t blame yourself for what he did. He made those choices all on his own,” Harris said firmly. He finally gave into temptation, getting up from the table and pulling Troy into his arms; he could feel Troy’s tears starting to sink into the fabric at his shoulder. “Baby, you didn’t know– and if you had, you would’ve tried to stop it. Just like you tried to stop it when you found out. And I know it hurts, I know how much you want to take all that blame on yourself, but it’s not your fault. Fear makes people do ridiculous things, Troy. It makes us people we don't want to be. You were afraid– not just for yourself but of yourself. Of course you did anything to try and make that fear go away; that’s only human. What matters is that you’ve changed, babe. You’ve grown and allowed yourself to feel like yourself, to see that what you did was wrong and try to fix it. That’s why I love you.”
Troy didn’t say anything at first, just sniffling into Harris’s shoulder. “I’m so scared that you’re going to realize you’re wrong,” Troy whispered, voice breaking under the weight of his tears. “That you’ll look at me one day and see that I’m still as bad as I was. I don’t think I’ll survive it, Harris.”
Harris could feel his heart breaking in his chest. How could Troy not see how much he had changed? How could he not see how much Harris loved him? How much his team loved him? He wasn’t the same person that he was when Harris first met him– Harris knew that to his very soul. And yet, Troy didn’t see that. All he saw was the person he was when he was hiding from the world under the unrelenting grips of his father and Dallas Kent. And Harris didn’t know how to fix that.
But he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Harris said as firmly as he could. “You’re taking that shirt off.”
Troy looked at him, bewildered. “What?”
“Come on,” Harris started tugging the shirt over Troy’s head. “You’re taking this off. Right now.”
“Harris, I’m really not in the mood–”
“Well, that’s good because this isn’t a sex thing,” Harris said with a smile as he finally got the offending shirt off of Troy. He tossed it into the living room before grabbing Troy’s hand and pulling him towards their bedroom. Once inside, Harris started digging through his drawer until he found what he was looking for: the soft, well worn Centaurs pride hoodie that Harris had gotten his first year with the team. He threw it at Troy, who continued to look at him, confused. “Put it on.”
“I really don’t think–”
“I’m not asking, Barrett, I’m telling. Put it on.” Harris did his best to channel Ilya Rozanov and his firm but fair leadership style as a captain; it seemed to work, since Troy did as he was told and pulled the hoodie on. It was a bit big on Troy– in a way that made Harris’s heart absolutely melt. “Now lay down.”
Troy once again did as he was asked, laying down on his side of the bed, facing towards Harris’s side; Harris smiled fondly at that as he crawled into bed beside his boyfriend. “What are we doing, Harris?”
Harris pulled Troy closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “We’re cuddling, obviously.”
“But why?”
“Because words didn’t work,” Harris said simply. “So we’ll try those again in a little bit. Just relax for me, okay?”
If Troy wanted to argue, he refrained from doing so, instead sliding a hand under Harris’s shirt and resting it over Harris’s heart. He could feel the tension starting to leave Troy’s shoulders, could feel him relaxing into Harris’s arms as they sat in the silence. Troy started to sniffle again, tears soaking into Harris’s shirt, but they didn’t say anything to each other; Harris just held his boyfriend and let him cry, let him feel the things he had been avoiding for so long.
When the tears finally subsided and all of the tension had left Troy, Harris kissed him on the forehead. “Are you ready to listen to me now?” Troy nodded, wiggling away from Harris just enough for their eyes to meet. “I know you think what happened with Kent is your fault. But it isn’t. You didn’t hurt those women, Troy. And the second you found out they were being hurt, you blew up your life to support them. You’ve spent so much of your life pretending to be someone that you’re not that you’ve managed to convince yourself that that’s who you truly are. I know it’s hard to believe– especially when someone like Kent is still walking free and playing hockey– but you’re not like him, Troy. You never truly were. You wanna know how I know that? I know that because I know for a fact that Dallas fucking Kent has never once felt guilt for what he did and who he is. But you did. You buried yourself in guilt and shame for so long– but it’s time to let go of that, Troy. You’re allowed to accept that you’ve changed– and I will remind you every day if I have to that you are a better man than you were. That you’re worthy of your teams trust and love.” He leaned in, kissing Troy gently. “That you’re worthy of my trust and love.”
Harris wiped away the tears welling in Troy’s eyes before they could fall, relishing in the way Troy leaned into his touch. Troy still looked so hesitant and nervous, but Harris could feel that fear starting to melt away. “I love you,” Troy said softly. “So much. You know that, right?”
“I know, sweetheart,” Harris replied, just as softly. “I love you too. And I’m going to be here for you, no matter what, okay?”
“Okay,” Troy said with a small nod. “I… Thank you, Harris.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for, Troy.”
Troy looked from Harris to the Centaur hoodie that had been forced upon him and back. “I think we both know that’s not true. So thank you.”
“Any time, sweetheart. Any time.”