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Luca Haas cried frequently.
He cried watching romcoms, equally as much as watching goal compilations of his heroes on the ice.
But he made himself the rule to not cry in public spaces. And so far, he has followed that rule. He cried the last night in his childhood bedroom before moving to Canada, but not at the airport saying goodbye to his mom.
He cried after the first practice with the centaurs, alone in his room at the Hayes house, the emotions of fulfilled dreams too much to bear.
Never in public.
It was a random Tuesday, three months into his time in Canada, in the shoppers across the street, that made him almost break that rule.
Why do Canadians have all the chip flavors in the world but have never heard of paprika chips?
He did not often crave food from home. He missed it, yes, but it wasn't like Canada didn't have good food as well.
He grew quite fond of bagels, and all the chocolate variations with peanuts in them made him happy enough to not ask his mom to send him food.
But today, today was a shitty day. Nothing bad happened, but he felt tired and knocked out, and all he wanted to do was to sit on the couch, watch a movie, and eat paprika chips.
But instead, he stood in the shoppers' chips aisle (he refuses to call them crisps) and just wanted to cry. He could feel it, the unsettling feeling rising up in his stomach, his lips slightly wobbling, and tears building up slowly.
He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, grabbed a bag of Ruffles All Dressed, and walked home.
He billeted his first rookie year at the Hayes house; the goalie and his wife welcomed him with open arms.
Today they were supposed to be on a date night; that's why Luca wanted to take full advantage of the couch and the big TV in the living room with Wyatt's all-around music boxes. (You can't watch Avengers: Endgame with generic boxes, Haasy.)
It also meant he didn't have to explain his red face and upset mood. Hell, he couldn't even explain it to himself; he just felt…off.
But it seemed like it really wasn't his lucky day today; walking back to the house, he saw their car outside. They must have come back early.
"Hey Haasy," he heard Wyatt's voice when he came through the door, his ruffle chips in hand and lips pressed together. "We brought leftovers if you want any; they're in the fridge."
"Th…Thanks, but uh…I am going to bed early, I think." He answered and was about to walk past the kitchen when Wyatt poked his head through the door.
"Hey, are you alright? Do you need anything?" He asked, clearly concerned but with a comforting smile on his face.
Luca sighed, "Yeah, just…you know, a bit homesick, I guess…nothing a night of sleep can't fix."
It was an easy explanation and probably not far off the truth. But he certainly will not tell his teammate that he was about to cry because of a bag of chips.
"Alright…just…tell us if we can do anything for you."
"I will, thanks Wyatt." Luca managed to get out before the tears pressed even harder against his eyes. He said goodnight and went up to his room.
Unfortunately, the weary feeling stayed with him. He wasn't close to a total public meltdown anymore, but for the whole week, he felt like he was walking a high wire while people were constantly shouting at him. His only focus was not to drop.
Not even the long weekend they had had made it better; he was tired and unsettled, and even the slightest inconvenience made him feel like the world was about to end.
It was Tuesday, a week after the chips incident, when Luca finally broke his no-crying-in-public-spaces rule.
It was the first practice after the long weekend; Luca was last in the locker room. The only other player still there was his captain, Ilya Rozanov. He still couldn't believe that he was playing with the guy he used to watch on TV and had posters of over his bed. So sue him; he was still, even after 3 months, a bit starstruck.
Rozanov was about to leave too, but when he walked past Luca's cubby, which was right by the door, he stopped. Grabbed something in his gym bag and handed Luca a plastic baggie, a white one without any logos.
Luca looked at Rozanov, but his captain just wiggled with the bag, gesturing for Luca to take it.
He took it and looked inside.
There in the bag…the familiar orange bag of Zweifels Paprikachips and a roll of… "Are those Ovolmatine cookies?" Luca let out a sound, louder than necessary, but he was confused, looking back and forth at Rozanov and at the bag in his lab.
"Treats from home, yes?" Ilya grinned. "Hazy mentioned you miss home. There is a Sweets-of-World shop in Montreal; I buy my Russian protein bars there. " He paused, and then... "They don't have a lot of Swiss treats, but I see you kidnapping the Chips bag at every team gathering; I figured I can't go wrong there."
Luca stared at his captain wide-eyed and let out a silent "Thank you," because that was all he managed to say.
Rozanov smiled down at him, something like understanding written in his eyes. "First year in Boston, I had a Russian physiotherapist; he went back to Russia every couple of months, and he always brought back my favorite chocolate bar. made me smile, played better after eating, was like a power bar." He winked and left the locker room, leaving Luca and the bag full of treats behind.
It started with one tear, landing on his cheek like a raindrop out of nowhere. Then a second and a third until Luca was fully crying. He didn't care if anybody walked in right now; he didn't care if anybody saw him. The emotions he bottled up for the past week over chip flavors finally released themselves.
He was homesick. He could name it now.
But maybe that was okay.
He wasn't alone.