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“C’mon, Mackie!” Will scooted closer to the brunette, “One more movie.”
“Will—it’s already way past midnight.” Mack groaned, pulling the hotel bed duvet higher, engulfing him whole.
Will frowned, “Please, Mack,” he begged, batting his eyelashes, pouting.
“I hate you—fine.” He said, finally, giving in.
“Yes!” Will jumped out of the bed and stumbled around the hotel room for a minute before returning with a bag of candy.
Reaching for the remote, he pulled out his phone and searched for a movie to watch. They ended up agreeing on watching some stupid rom-com starring Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling. Will pulled it up on the hotel room TV and wrapped an arm around Mack’s sleepy figure.
Leaning into the embrace, Mack smiled at the warmth of his own personal body pillow that was Will Smith Hockey.
The movie started, and Will was hooked, commenting on dumb dialogue, laughing at shitty jokes, cooing at “romantic” scenes. It was thirty minutes into the two-hour-long movie when Will realised the limp boy resting against his chest was drooling. Mack had fallen asleep.
Something in Will softened at the sight, adjusting them so Mack was completely draped across his front. He wrapped one arm around Mack’s back, and the other landed in the brunette’s hair, twirling, softly. The unconscious boy curled deeper into Will’s neck.
Time flew, and eventually, the end credits started rolling, and Will was a sobbing mess. He was never going to get movie recommendations from Grace ever again.
Rubbing at his eyes, he groaned. Rolling Mack over, he slipped out of bed, rummaged through his suitcase for his toiletries, then headed for the bathroom.
Walking into the bathroom, Will looked in the mirror and was met with his reflection, staring at his tear-ridden cheeks. He couldn’t help but laugh. He was a twenty-year-old man who played in the National Hockey League, crying over a stupid movie. He scrubbed at his face, brushed his teeth and left the bathroom.
Will walked over to the bed and turned off the dim hotel lamp. Staring at Mack, covered in the duvet, a sleeping lump in his bed, Will contemplated joining him in his bed and risk waking him or turning around and slipping into what was supposed to be Mack’s bed.
Deciding on the latter, Will slid into the other bed, creaking under his weight, his head snapped toward Macklin, who didn’t wake.
He lay in bed for however long, staring at the ceiling. He thought about the movie and the shitty ending—why couldn’t they just end up together?
Will leaned over and reached for his phone. Opening TikTok, he typed the movie title into the search bar.
He scrolled for what felt like twenty minutes, watching edits—keyword ‘felt’—when he checked the time, he realised one whole hour had passed already.
The clock struck three o’clock, and Will groaned internally. He was gonna be so fucked in the morning. Breakfast with the team was at eight, and they had to leave for the airport at nine. And—shit, neither Will nor Mack had packed, meaning they would have to wake up even earlier to pack their suitcases.
Stupidly, he decided that he should just pack all his stuff right then—save himself some time in the morning and—in his mind—get another hour of sleep, which didn’t exactly make sense because he was losing sleep either way, but he didn’t care about logic.
Teetering around the hotel room, tripping over hockey gear and trying his best not to wake Mack, Will gathered all his things. Stuffing all his clothes and shoes into his bag, he remembered that Mack would also have to get up earlier to pack his own things.
Will got up and started gathering Mack’s stuff. Why not just pack his things as well? Be a good boyfriend and all that.
After filling both the bags, leaving out a pair of shirts and pants that they would change into in the morning, Will collapsed onto the bed. Checking the time, he winced at the fact that an hour had already passed; it was almost five.
He’d have to get up in around three hours. Will closed his eyes and felt a sudden chill run down his spine. It was pretty cold in the hotel room; Mack loved to set the room temperature unusually high. Canadians were weird.
He thought about it for a minute before deciding he didn’t really give a shit if Mack woke up for like two seconds before falling back asleep. He got out of his bed and hopped over to the other one, occupied by Mack. He carefully lifted the covers and slid in next to him and plastered himself against the brunette’s bare back.
Cuddling closer to Mack, the smell of Macklin’s passion fruit-scented shampoo and his soft snores took over, and Will eventually drifted off into a deep slumber.
“Get!” Mack shouted, hitting him with a pillow. “Up!”
“No.”
“Will, c’mon—I’m already dressed, we have to go down in fifteen minutes,” Mack said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, resting a warm hand along Will’s spine, under his shirt. He’d spent the past twenty minutes trying to get the other out of bed.
“Don’t care.” The blond grumbled out, turning his face into the pillow.
Mack groaned, “Will, I told you not to stay up late—you can’t even get out of bed now, dude.” He chided. “How long did you stay up, anyway?”
“Shut up,” Will said, muffled by the pillow, ignoring the question.
“Will!” Mack whined, pulling at his arm, attempting to drag him out of bed.
Will grunted before sitting upright, the bags under his eyes big and dark, his hair sticking up in one too many directions. “I’m up.”
Mack stifled a laugh before letting go of Will’s arm to cover his mouth. “Dude, you—you look like shit!” He cackled out, earning a glare from the slumped boy.
“Bro, shut the fuck up.” Will rasped, pulling himself off the bed.
Mack rolled his eyes before motioning him to the bathroom, “Go brush your teeth, we leave in ten.”
Will trudged over to the bathroom while Mack laid his clothes out on the bed for him. Staring at himself in the mirror, he looked no better than he did last night.
Shoving a toothbrush in his mouth, he recalled the movie he’d had a whole breakdown over. He realised it wasn’t even that sad—well, it was, just not enough to make a grown man cry, which it did. It made Will cry. Maybe it was the combination of the sad ending, Mack being asleep and the late night that did it for him. Will hunched over the sink as he spat his toothpaste out and grabbed his towel to wipe at his face before exiting the bathroom.
“Thanks for packing my bag for me, by the way,” Mack thanked, scrolling on his phone—and Will knew if it was anyone else who gave him that half-assed thanks, he’d probably jump them, but Mack—Mack just made him smile.
Will sat down on his bed and closed his eyes, nodding off and then jerking his head upward when he leaned too far down.
Mack got up and reached for the cream-coloured button-up shirt that was sprawled over the other bed, walking over to Will. “Dude, get dressed.”
“I’m tired.” He whined, leaning back onto the headboard. “Can’t I just skip team breakfast?”
“I’ll help you change,” Mack said as he placed his hand on top of Will’s head, grasping the blonde curls. “Plus, we skipped last time, and the time before that—before that too,”
“Exactly, they should know by now not to invite us.” Will countered, raising his arms, allowing Mack to tug his ratty, sleep shirt off him, shivering at the lack of warmth.
“Well, in Toff’s words, ‘It wouldn’t be team dinner without the whole team.’” Mack said, his voice pitching higher as he mimicked Toff.
Will laughed as Mack slipped the shirt over his head, pressing a kiss to the top of Will’s head before he helped him change from his plaid pyjama pants into a pair of jeans.
“C’mon,” Mack muttered, running his hands through Will’s hair, as if to brush it. “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late.”
Will groaned before getting up, sliding his sneakers on, leaning against the door frame as Mack tied his shoes for him.
“You’re like a big baby,” He mumbled as he stood upright.
Will smiled sleepily, “You like this big baby.”
Mack rolled his eyes, but Will didn’t miss the smile on his face when he thought he wasn’t looking.