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Scott was a man with a good past behind him. He had built himself, over the years, a persona that many would say was perfect. The smart, kind, honest captain that everyone liked. A legend. He was what every young hockey player aspired to be.
Until Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander came along and took his spotlight. Back then, he figured he could just… lay low. Fade in the background, retire, move to Europe and find a nice man to settle down with and finally, finally be able to have someone in his life. But apparently the media had other plans.
But then Kip came into his life, happy, friendly, lovely and–God–and everything got so much harder. (pun intended). He loved him. He loved him more than he had loved anyone since his parents died. He loved him so much he would do anything to be able to have it. All he wanted to do was just… just hold him and love him and be with him. But he couldn’t. Not openly, anyway. And he could see how much that was taking a toll on Kip's mind.
"He's also miserable," Elena had told him.
Those words kept ringing in his mind again and again and again. When Kip had left, to see his family, his friends, Scott had been upset. At least at first. But then he realised Kip wasn’t like him. He wasn't alone, with no one to check on him unless he was severely injured and even then, barely. He wasn't... alone. He had friends. He had a dad that called every night just to check on him. Had people that invited him out weekly only for him to refuse because Scott wanted him all to himself. He was selfish for that. He was selfish to think he could make it last. Make him wait a few more years.
So yeah, he was so, so happy when he came back. When he tried to change things. To fix them. It proved to Scott that he wasn't just gonna leave. He knew he should have. He was a complicated mess and, at this point in his life, he couldn’t offer Kip anything other than secret looks and stolen moments. He didn't deserve Kip's sunshine. But still, he couldn’t have been more grateful that he returned because he would do anything in order to have a few more moments with the man he so dearly loved. They could celebrate his birthday, have a movie night, enjoy one another and just feel good. He bought drinks, ordered something fancy hoping Kip would like it, tried (and failed) to give him a present. He went out of his way to give all he knew to the person he loved. To make him understand how much he would do for him.
But then it happened. Kip asked him to come to the Kingfisher. The gay bar.
"Celebrate my birthday," he had said. "Just a few friends from the bar."
"You can as somebody that buys smoothies from me." He suggested.
Scott knew, by the face he was probably making, that Kip already knew the answer. But how could he do something like that? How could he? Step into a gay bar full of Kip's chosen friends, risk a photo, a whisper, a headline? Insane. It would be just… insane. Insensitive. They would figure it out. And in his line of work, people get thrown away for less. Tossed aside, covered by new stars and forgotten because they were unfortunate enough to be caught in a vulnerable position. Hunter knew it mostly happened with things like drugs or illegal selling. But who was to say he wouldn't be on that list too? It could just be a thing among many others. And he couldn’t do it.
He couldn't afford to lose. Not after he spent so much of his life dedicated to this stupid thing. Because if he did, he wouldn't have anything to continue. He was, by a normal person's view, young. In his 30's. He had all his life ahead. So, if he were to be erased with a sponge by some stupid photo or leak, he wouldn't, realistically, know what to do. All he ever did was play hockey.
So, like a coward, he told Kip that he couldn’t do it. That he couldn’t do the one thing he had asked him to do. So, he left. Not because he was mad. Not because he wanted things with Scott to end but because he wanted to go out for his birthday with his friends. Scott understood. He didn't push more. He didn't hold onto him because it felt wrong. It felt too... selfish.
However, the house was empty. And he didn't realise just how bad it was to be alone until he lost the one person that was there with him. The one person, since his parents passed away, that he could be himself with. Not the perfect hockey captain, not Scott Hunter the legend that allowed people to interview him. Here, with Kip, he was just Scott. Just a man in love.
Standing in front of the Kingfisher hurt. Seeing Kip there, with his friends, happy, made his heart ache. Not because he wanted his (ex?) lover to suffer, no. Scott would never want that for Kip. But because he wanted to be there, with him. To celebrate. Instead, he was standing outside, watching through the window like some lost puppy.
The street light was shining over him as if pointing at him. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Could he just stand there? Staring? Watch the person he cared about so so much through a window? No. That would be creepy. Wird. He watched enough true-crime documentories to know that this was considerd very very wrong. But that look. That smile. The eyes.
He looked down, at himself. Dressed in a grey shirt,black pants and a coat. Casual,right? Casual enough to...?
He frowned. Fuck it. Fuck everything. Scott had spent half his life being brave on the ice. Being the bigger person, avoid or break fights.
Taking hits. Blocking shots. Fighting men twice his size for his teamates. He could do this. Couldn't he?
Yet somehow walking into a bar felt harder than any of it.
He exhaled slowly.
Then pushed the door open. He had notice the 'closed' sign on the door so he wasn't all that schocked when one of the guys looked at him with daggers in his eyes.
"Its closet. Cant you read?" Suddenly, his face was red. He felt far away, stupid. He shouldn't have come here. He shouldn't have, for a second,thought that this was a good idea. He should just leave and never retu-
"Scott?" Kip's voice broke any thought he had. His wide eyes fell on him. He must have looked like a cornered animal since everyone was staring at him, clearly trying to be nice.
"H-hi." He managed to push out because, well, he had to say something. He didn't dare move. Couldn't bring himself to. Didn't know if he was welcomed.
"Oh, Scott..." Kip's voice echoed again, softer. He put the cake (was it a cake? A cupcake? He wasn’t focused enough to tell) down and walked towards him. In that moment, it hit him. Him, the big hockey player, looked like a caged animal looking for comfort. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He hugged Kip, his Kip. The man smiled.
"Im glad you came. Come on."
He put his coat away and, with shaking legs, greeted his friends. They all looked at him knowingly but didn't say anything. They were just nice. As the night wore on, he relaxed and got closer to Kip. He had a drink or two and was getting tipsy. Careless. By the end of the night, he was standing next to Kip, hand in hand under the table. He was blushing like a highschooler while his boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) put his head on his shoulder. Their friends laughed but never teased him. Maria took a photo. Just for them. No one else. Scott didn't protest. This would be a memory he wanted to keep. This was the first time he would be out with his lover, somewhere public and actually act like they were in a relationship. For him, it was a big step. Something that gave him courage. Somewhere in the back of his head, he wondered if Rozanov and Hollander ever went out too. He knew about them since the All-Star Game but never let anyone know. But he wondered how they were able to maintain their relationship through it all.
That didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that he was here, with Kip, with Kip's friends and could enjoy another night with him. (maybe even have an afterparty)
And for the first time in a long time, Scott didn’t feel like he was hiding.
Not completely.
Not tonight.
Little did he know, Maria wouldn’t be the only one to get a picture of him.