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Will hadn’t gotten a team curse yet.
He knew deep down that he would surly get one, knowing they were guaranteed in the NHL, but it hadn’t affected him for his whole rookie and sophomore year so far.
So, he forgot about it.
Until they were playing one of their last games before the Olympic break. They were up against the Blackhawks and one game away for a loosing streak. They played well, really well, but still somehow ended up with loosing 6–3. It got Will, and the rest of the team, pissed but he brushed it off. Mack and him had a good dinner with Graf, Delly, and Ty, and they went back to the hotel room.
Little did Will know that he was about to have the worst two months of his life.
———
Will woke up the next morning, tired and groggy, which was odd since he usually felt refreshed. He looked at the clock, which read 9 am, meaning he got eight hours, so what was up? He brushed it off.
Mack and him were packing up about a half hour later to go to Colorado for their next game when the room began to spin.
Will has never fainted before. Hes stood up too fast a few too many times, sure, but he’s never passed out, out of the blue. One second he was packing up his shirts, the next, the floor was meeting his face.
“Holy shit—“ Mack cursed as he caught Will.
His head was tilted as his eyes rolled, eyes fluttering as he roused. He groaned, blinking a few times to see Mack’s wide greens staring back at him.
“Dude.” Mack deadpanned. “What the fuck was that!?”
Will was stunned, blinking. “I…I dunno.”
Mack shook his head. “Are you ok!? Do you feel sick?”
Will sat up, able to do so without Mack’s help—thank God. Being in his arms was humbling enough—and rubbed his forehead. “I think I’m just dehydrated. I’m fine, I swear. It’s just…weird.”
Mack nodded, helping Will up. “We’ll get some water downstairs, some food too.”
Will nodded and continued to pack, thanking Mack for catching him and not letting him break his face.
The rest of the day went fine. They got on the plane and flew to Colorado, the team’s energy dulled from their loss. Mack and Will plugged in their headphones and tried to watch a movie, but Will’s limbs grew heavy and his eyelids heavier, so he ended up sleeping through the majority of it. When they landed, the the team checked into the hotel, Will signing stuff for a few fans with Graffer and Mack, but eventually got tired and decided to head back to the room, attempting to ignore the concerned glances from his roommate.
He fell asleep before dinner and when Mack tried to wake him up, he shrugged him off and said he was tired.
The next time he woke, it was 8:30 the next day.
———
Will, Mack and Ty got to the morning skate around ten o’clock that morning. The room was bustling with talks of the loosing streak before they even got there. Mario was leading the conversation, per usual, talking about one of how Marty Beniers, of the Seattle Kraken, had suffered a particular bad curse.
“Dude, I’m telling you, the guy had cat ears for a week.” Mario exclaimed, putting on his pads. “It was brutal, couldn’t go out for days!”
That got a laugh out a few guys, Eky chiming in. “That was only after one loss, we got three under our belts.”
Dickie scanned the room. “Well, I don’t see anyone with cat ears,”
The room erupted into a comfortable laughter, but Wills head started getting floaty again. It was like the routine of putting his gear on was fuzzy and distant. Like he couldn’t quite remember what he was doing. He stepped towards Mack to ask, but then his legs gave out.
He fell to the floor, head spinning and vision black. He felt like he was underwater, the commotion of the room drowned out by his own blood rushing in his ears. When he opened his eyes again, the whole ass team was around him. He squinted as a chorus of concerned voices flooded him all at once, the most prominent being Macklin.
“Smitty, are you good!?”
Will nodded, giggling to himself. He never passes out. Why did he pass out? He felt dizzy.
The looks of concern deepened.
“Shit. He has it.” Reavo said.
Ty looked at him. “The curse?”
He nodded gravely. “It’s a bad one too. Sleeping Beauty’s.”
Misa drew his eyebrows in confusion. “What the hell is that? I thought it was like, fantasy punishments.”
“A loosing curse is defined by the NHL board as a lingering attachment or condition that will make it harder for a single player to compete.” Wenny piped up, putting a hand on Smitty’s forehead. He closed his eyes, the sensation grounding him from the dizziness. “The team Captain gets to pick, but since we only have assistant ones Warso usually does.”
Mack looked at them with urgency, behind Will like he was trying to protect him. “So what does he have? What’s Sleeping Beauty’s?”
Asky sighed, shaking his head. “It gives the player a mix of narcolepsy and anemia. It can’t really be managed and gets worse with every loss.”
Mack was enraged to say the least. “How is that even aloud!? That’s not even chirp worthy! It’s just—cruel!”
Graf cringed. “I dunno, I heard a few people call Smitty Prince Charming during warmups.”
Dickie nodded. “Yeah, I’ve actually heard that one a few times.”
“Woah, we’re getting ahead of ourselves!” Ty announced. “What if he was just tired, or lightheaded? He could’ve been dehydrated for all we know, it’s not guaranteed he has the curse.”
The team paused and looked down at him. Smitty’s gaze was hazy and almost trance-like, blue eyes half lidded and content. His curls were blonde and perfect, framing his delicate features and making him look even softer. His black undershirt hung onto his loose limbs. He looked pretty, even a guy with a wife and kids could admit that.
He looked like a Disney Prince.
“Well,” Eky muttered. “Shit.”
———
Practice was ok, and Will did get out on the ice. The team tried to be gentle with him, but Warso treated him no differently. When the team went through bag skates, Will did them, no matter how dizzy he got. By the end, he had to physically lean up against the boards to prevent his knees for giving out.
Mack is by his side the whole practice but Will is stubborn, no matter how fuzzy his head gets. He does each drill and finishes each relay to the best of his ability, knowing his limit but still showing effort. When practice is over Mack checks on him in the shower.
“Smitty, you gotta be careful, if you pass out on the ice—“
“I won’t! I’m ok,” Will assured, pushing his hair under the running water. “I’ll rest up the second we get home and get energy for the game, I’m fine, I’m—“
All of a sudden the water felt too hot against him skin and the air felt too heavy and the room began to spin. His eyes fluttered close as his knees buckled, sending him crashing to the tile of the shower floors. When Will came to, he realized, quite mortifyingly, that Mack had caught him. The downside: he was very much naked. He got up, ignoring Mack’s concerned expression as he clung to the wall, and faced the shower wall, hiding his embarrassment with pettiness.
“If you’re so concerned, just help us win.” He said earnestly. “You’re a good player, you can score. Just hype the team up and score. Please, just score. I’ll help where I can.”
Mack doesn’t meet his gaze as he finishes washing the shampoo from his hair. “Fine. I’m sorry. But if you pass out on the ice, it’s not gonna be pretty for anyone.”
Will didn’t doubt that for a second.
———
They lost. And they lost bad. Will, thankfully, had avoided many mid-play-naps but blacked out on the bench at least four times, leaning against Mack and sometimes even Graf. He received so many sympathetic looks from his teammates and they all tried so hard, but they were up against the Avalanche, one of the best teams in the NHL.
They were practically destined to loose. And that seemed to piss off the whole damn team.
Cherynshov was picking fights, going after anyone who tried to check Will. Mack was worse, a demon on ice, scoring left and right, on hatty watch the whole night. The team took stupid penalties for fights stated out of pent up anger. They were on edge, overthinking plays and suffering because of it.
The mood in the locker room was somber, and everyone was apologizing to Will. He felt bad, especially towards Macklin and for what he told him earlier that day. He kept assuring the they’d always have next game, but he was still given these pitying looks. He racked his mind to remember who they were playing. With the Olympics and all it got him messed up.
That is unless…stop.
“M-Mack?” Will asked, trying to ignore the tremor in his voice and the way the room went silent. “When’s our next game.”
Mack looked down. You could hear a pin drop.
“Mack, when is it?”
He signed, tears glossing his eyes. “February twenty sixth.”
Will closed his eyes, sinking down to his cubby and put his head in his hands.
Ty spoke up, voice soft. “Will, we’re so sorry—“
“It’s ok,” Will reassured, voice cracking. “In no way could we have won that game. It’s just so fucked up.”
Mack hugged him, gear still on and sweaty. Will sniffled into his chest, pulling away once he got his bearings. He turned to the room, the guilt of his teammates radiating into the air. “So what happens now?”
Reavo shook his head and looked down. Eky stared straight ahead, Graf looked like he was holding back tears. Ty had that sad dad look on his face and Misa and Dickie looked sick.
Wenny answered, voice soft and full of sorrow. “It gets worse.”
———
After a day or so, it seemed like everyone and their mom knew about his curse. Luckily the Olympics overshadowed the embarrassment, but for those few days, it was hell. Videos of him leaning on Mack, eyes closed and head bowed, were on news outlets and all over TikTok. Apparently it had been ten years since someone used the Sleeping Beauty curse, everyone dubbing it as too cruel or picking a fantasy punishment instead, choosing embarrassment over functionality.
Because of the rarity of it, the captain of the Blackhawks, Nick Folingo, was getting a lot of backlash online, making the Blackhawks one of the most hated teams in the NHL. It would’ve been one thing if he had done the curse during a bunch of home games, but this close to the Olympic break with Colorado as their closer? He knew what he was doing.
Speaking of Olympics, Mack was in Milan. He had felt terrible, and Will continued to apologize for what he said in the Avalanche locker room, but Mack wouldn’t hear it, only wanting to know how he felt. If he was ok. Hanging in there and all.
The truth was, Will was doing absolutely terrible.
He was always drowsy and could barely stand up without his balance getting thrown off. He went back to Boston and his family knew his curse before he even told him. Thank God they did, cause the second he got off that plane, he passed out in Graces arms.
His blackouts were getting more frequent, which was a little scary for him and his family, and he started forgetting where he was due to fatigue. Grace would check on him the most, letting him lay his head on her as she carded her hand through his curls, a gesture that she used to do when they were kids. Will would drift, with the Olympics on in the background, feeling Graces grounding touches and hearing Macklin name.
———
The beanpot came faster than Will had anticipated. Gabe and Leno had picked him up to go to TD Garden with Fowler, plans to watch the game. The second he got in the car, he was met with warm welcomes from his former teammates. However, there was an underlying concern among them.
When they were halfway to Boston, Gabe asked the question. “So, how are you feeling?”
Will sighed but cracked a humorless smile. “Tired. And dizzy. Kinda wanna kill Folingo.”
“Atta boy, Smit.” Fowler smirked.
Leno huffed a laugh at the wheel. “Fucked up, what that guy did. Would’ve loved to see you with a rack.”
The car broke out into laughs.
“You would’ve been a sight for sore eyes, Smit.” Gabe smiled, tuning back to see him.
Will rolled his eyes, “thanks guys, means a lot.”
They drove to TD Garden, Will going into one of his trance-like episodes that the curse gave him. He’d get drowsy and zone out, almost trapped in the moment. Sometimes someone would literally have to shake him out of it. It was scary, for sure, but having other people around him helped a lot.
“Smitty,” Gabe shook him lightly. “We’re here.”
Will gave a heavy blink and hummed, confused.
“God, Smit,” Leno cursed, “they got you bad.”
Will let his eyes flutter and his surroundings come back. “Sorry, I hate when that happens.”
Fowler put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay awake, Sleeping Beauty, we got a game to watch.”
Will laughed bitterly, getting out of the car. “Wish I could.”
The game went good. They went into the BC locker room to hype the team up. It was nice, getting to see Voter and Hagans again. The Eagles won, of course, and the excitement of the game kept him awake. He got drowsy during the intermissions but Gabe gave him his shoulder. It was nice, drifting between periods with Gabe next to him. He couldn’t help but wonder where Mack was or what he was doing.
They went out with some of the team, and Will tried his best to stay lucid, and he did, but he completely passed out on the walk to the car. Leno had caught him, carrying him bridal style, joking to Fowler and Gabe that he had to look after Sleeping Beauty. They had laughed but it didn’t really feel chirp worthy.
Will was exhausted. Anyone with eyes could see that. There were bags under his eyes, so prominent that he looked like he hadn’t slept in months. Yet he had. He only slept these days. Seeing Will so tired, so out of it, had set the mood off, mainly during intermission.
They had chatted after the second period when Will had fallen asleep on Gabe’s shoulder.
“Sleeping Beauty’s taking a rest?” Fowler asked. “Again?”
Gabe nodded, assessing Will over. “He’s two losses in. Unless his team locks in after the break, he might only be sleeping.”
Leno creased his brows. “Wait, what do you mean.”
“If the loosing streak continues, the curse keeps getting worse and worse. Hes barely in condition to play as is, but if they loose another game, he might just be sleeping.”
“Just be sleeping?”
“Like, fully asleep. Coma-like. After their fourth loss he might start dreaming. I don’t think the curse has ever gotten to a fifth or sixth, but it can’t be good.”
“Holy shit, Gabe, could he die?” Fowler asked, eyes wide.
“Don’t say that! They have Mack on their team, they should be fine.” Gabe said, sure of himself.
They all turned to Will, peaceful yet absolutely exhausted.
“Dear God,” Leno breathed. “Please let them win.”
———
After the break, it became clear—even to Warso—that Will was in no condition to play. He wobbled on the ice after too long and could barely keep up at practice. The team was getting more and more worried. Usually they would chirp about curses, like when Mario had to rhyme every sentence and became their locker room rapper. But this? This was just cruel.
”please, I can play, I promise.” Will all but begged Warso.
“Will, you passed out in the locker room. Twice.” His coach explained, making him sit on the bench when he wobbled. “You’re one of our best players, and believe me, it hurts benching you at a time like this, but you can’t play, Will. You’re body’s gonna give out on you.”
Will bit his tongue and sat, wanting to cry at how easily the static in his head drowned out the fight in him. He slumped on the bench, head against his stick to keep the room from spinning even more than it was.
Fuck this damn curse.
Will looked like he was seeing ghosts—call him Quinn Hughes—and each day seamed to get worse. They were walking to lunch—Ty, Graf, Smitty, Delly, Dickie, and Misa—when Will had passed out. He was walking in between Misa and Dickie, so they were able to catch him, but when he roused, he could barely stand. Ty drove him back to Patty’s insisting that he needed to lay down.
And it sucked.
Will wanted to break the damn curse himself. He wanted to see Mack again. He wanted to eat lunch with his friends without passing out in his soup bowl. He wish he got a normal curse, like cat ears, or being bilingual for a week. Why’d it have to be this one? Why did he need to have the worse one?
———
Mack got back from Milan a few days before their first game back. He had won silver, and Will knew he was destroyed, another loss to add to his ever growing list, but he shrugged it off the second he stepped on the ice. He had one gol now: stop the damn curse.
They were up against Calgary that night. The locker room was buzzing with chirps and laughter, and yet it was so quiet. So tense.
Will was watching from the bleachers today. He legally couldn’t play, the curse becoming as serious as a medical condition. It wasn’t just dizziness and drowsiness anymore, he had gone into almost day long dazes where he couldn’t really think, half asleep, half awake. It was creepy.
It was scary.
They needed a win.
“Hey, uh, what happens if we loose today?” Dickie’s question silenced the locker room.
Mack held his breath, knowing Wenny’s answer before he even opened his mouth.
“Then he doesn’t wake up until we win.”
———
They lost. And they lost bad.
It looked promising for a while, a tied game by second period, but Calgary pulled ahead and scored three goals on them. It was boarder line awful. They had tried so hard, especially Mack, but they kept overthinking plays, picking fights, getting penalties, loosing penalty kills. It didn’t matter anymore.
it didn’t matter cause Will was gonna start fading.
The team rushed out of the locker room, piling into cars as Toff drove Mack and Will back to Patty’s.
Will was still lucid but the dread had clung to him as sleep creeped up with every second. They went through the main house, Will hugging Christina, Patty, Brody, Jagger and Caleb, saying the team was coming to the guest house to be with him. Caleb crying when he hugged Will for what could be the last time.
The sharks crowded into Wills cramped bedroom. Will was lying on the bed, fighting sleep with everything he had. Half the room was in tears, guilt heavy, but Mack was absolutely wrecked.
“I’m so fucking sorry Will,” Mack whispered.
Will nodded, tears spilling from his eyes as his limbs began to feel heavier. “It’s ok, Celly. I’m so proud of you. You can’t take the blame for everything.”
Wenny looked distraught. Eky was silently crying. Misa and Dickie held each other close, Reavo and Ty were in straight up disbelief.
Will sniffed, “If I don’t wake up—“
The room erupted into shouts.
“We’re winning the next game!” Mack promised, “I’ll sell my soul if I have to! I’m not seeing how far this curse goes. You’re waking up in two days after we beat the Oilers back to Edmonton. Do you understand?”
Will smiled weakly and nodded. “Still. I want you all to know that I had a really fun season with you. I’m sorry this damn curse split our time up, but I’m happy I got to play with you.”
His teammates looked at him with denial and disbelief as sleep crept in, yet he continued.
“I’ll be honest. I’m really fucking scared cuz my head hurts and I can’t move my legs right now, but I know you guys will do everything you can to win. I know..I know that..” He trailed off as his blinks got slower.
Mack looked at him with horror as he watched his liney melt into the mattress. “Will!?”
“I’m sorry, I’m a little tired right now…I love you guys but it’s like…”
His head tilted as the room spun, vision starting to black out. He tried to hold onto something and ended up with Mack’s hand in his. “Holy shit, this is fucking scary—“
“Will it’s ok, we’re here. You’re safe,” Mack reassured, sniffling.
“Mack, promise me that I’ll be ok. Promise me that I’ll wake up.”
Mack nodded, tears glistening in his green eyes. “I promise, Will. I promise.”
Wenny put his thumb on Will’s pulse point. “Smitty, you gotta stop fighting it,”
Will looked at his liney with terrified eyes. “Is it ok if I’m just with Mack?”
The rest of the team looked heart broken but left. It was an understandable request, being alone with your best friend before dropping into a coma.
“Mack, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t.” Mack shook his head, tears in his eyes. “You did everything right and we couldn’t follow through. I’m sorry.”
Will was gonna argue back but his head dipped dangerously low as his vision gave out again. “‘M so tired, Mackie,”
“I know,” Mack whispered, holding him.
“I love you,” he slurred, fighting with the last of his strength.
“I love you too.” Mack whispered, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I always will.”
Wills grip went limp as his eyes fluttered shut.
He was asleep.
———
Mack stayed with Will, watching over him and brushing his hair. He cried at his bedside and talked to him, forced to watch him limp and unresponsive.
He brought him that stupid stuffed animal he got from the Olympics, tucking it between his chest and the blanket.
It was true. He didn’t wake up. He was fully asleep. Under the curse Mack tried so hard to break. So Mack spent extra time on the ice. He stayed with Will when he could and skated like a demon when he couldn’t.
The rest of the team wasn’t much better. The locker room was somber and fear was held in every play they made. They played with intensity, knowing they had everything to loose. They were all in, and there was no way to back out.
On game day, Mack stomped into the locker room like a fury of rage, scanning the room and taking initiative.
“Hey guys!” He called. The room shut up quick. “Just to remind everyone, my best friend is in a coma cause we kept fucking loosing. Now I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna skate my ass off today and pray to the hockey gods for a win. Nobody’s made it four losses with the Sleeping Beauty’s curse, and I would rather die than let Will be the first. Ok?”
The team stared at him, nodding, and he clapped his hands together. “I know we can win this. And we are. I can feel it. Let’s fuckin’ destroy ‘em tonight!”
———
And they did. Misa, Wenny, Goody, Muk, and—of course—Mack scored goals. It was a close game, but in the end they won 5–4. Mack was elated and the rest of the locker was buzzing. Will would wake up.
After the game, Mack, as well as a few other teammates that were close to him, went to Patti’s guest house and visited Will. They barged into Will’s bedroom and took in the sight.
He truly looked like a prince, blonde halo of curls framing his peaceful face. The yellow lights of the bedroom gave him a soft almost other worldly glow. He was pretty. He was a prince. Mack wasted no time, gently attempting to nude him awake.
“Will, can you hear me? Wake up, we broke the curse.” Mack smiled.
Will stayed asleep.
Mack’s eyebrows drew together. “Will? Wake up! We won!”
He turned to his teammates, seeing how Will was unresponsive.
“Wenny, how do we wake him up?”
Wenny looked him dead in the eye. “A true love’s kiss.”
Mack turned crimson. “Are you fucking kidding me.”
Wenny smirked. “No.”
“Haha, Wenny.” Mack deadpanned. “But seriously, how?”
Wenny went up to Smitty, looking for the pulse point on his wrist. “No, I was being serious. This is where the chirping aspect of it comes in. He needs to get kissed by a teammate.”
Mack stared ahead, shell shocked and gaping. “Are you fucking kidding me. Why me!?”
The repeated phrase gained an eye roll from Toff. “Celly, just shut up and kiss him, your his best friend, it makes the most sense. But hurry up, hes gonna go braindead in that coma.”
Mack sighed, looking back to Will. He was beautiful, and it wasn’t like he didn’t want to. He was just scared how Will would react. But, then again, this was a great excuse to kiss Will and he could always hold this against him so…
Mack put a hand in Will’s blonde curls, almost melting at the way Will sighed under him. Mack looked at Wills lips, pink and perfect. He leaned in closing his eyes as their lips brushed.
It was a little awkward, Mack hunched over to kiss him, but the butterflies in his stomach said differently. Wills lips were a soft as Mack imagined.
When he pulled away, he waited impatiently for something, anything to happen. Just as he was about to cry, thinking it didn’t work, Will’s eyes fluttered open. They were as blue as the ocean and as pretty as Mack had remembered.
“Oh, thank God!” Mack breathed, crushing Will into a hug.
Will hugged back, laughing as his teammates piled into his full sized bed. “You guys did it, I can’t believe you did it!”
Misa laughed and Eky ruffled his curls. “What you do in your coma?”
Will looked shy all of the sudden. “Oh, I mean it’s called Sleeping Beauty’s curse for a reason.”
Delly huffed a laugh. “Were you dancing with a prince in a pretty pink dress?”
Will flushed, looking down, smirking nonetheless. “I mean, it was blue..”
The room broke out into laughs.
Wenny smiled, “we’re never gonna let you live that down.”
Will smiled. “I don’t plan on it.”
———
With Will back in prime condition, thing slowly went back to normal. The team stopped acting like Will was gonna pass out every five seconds and Will finally felt more lucid than he had in months.
Nick Folingo was traded from the Blackhawks when the deadline came closer. Will supposed the Blackhawks were done with the low attendance rates and they needed better players. Will figured that captain position was going straight to Bedsy.
Mack still huddled close to Will.
Will never loved sleeping alone, but now Mack genuinely wouldnt let him. Before every night, when they were roommates, Mack would sneak into Wills bed. Sometimes he’d get emotional, whispering how scared he was when Will was asleep for two days.
“Two days, Will.” Mack plead with him, burying his head into the blondes neck. “If we lost I would’ve never forgiven myself. I still can’t—“
“Hey, I’m right here,” Will reassured, holding Mack right back. “It was never your fault, you literally woke me up, Mack.”
Will knew how to reassure Mack, being through this rodeo at least ten times after their loss. Other nights, Mack would just lay, sometimes looking at Will like he was trying to memorize his face, the way it moved. He’d whine when Will closed his eyes.
“Keep ‘em open,” Mack would drawl.
“I’m sleepy, Mackie, I wanna close ‘em.” Will would argue.
“I’ll keep you awake, just…one more minute?”
It could’ve been seen as alarming, how Mack acted. Like their friendship was something more.
And yet, Will always kept his eyes open.
He kept the open and memorized each shade of green in Macks iris’s.
And the next morning, he’d wake in Mack’s arms, content and well rested.
He still got chirped in the locker room, and the following year, Dickie got him a sleeping mask and tiara, but they always seemed to pale when they lost a game, looking around the room to ensure nobody felt lightheaded.
They did get a loosing streak, but Misa showed up to practice with his middle and ring finger stuck together—a new curse Nashville was trying out—and the mood soothed out.
But above all, Will knew he had a time that cared for him.
And above that, was a person that kept Will his top priority. And that person, was Macklin.
And some nights, before either of them drop into sleep, they still whisper “I love you.” Because there once was a time where they might’ve not waken up the next morning.
The phrase became a constant in hotel rooms and Will made sure they texted it if they weren’t away. He knew that with Macklin, with his soulmate, platonic or not, he would be safe, no matter the trial. And Mack knew the same.
So they had no issue texting “I love you”, with the full intent of it being their last words.