Chapter Text
There's no doubt that everyone in the league loves Macklin Celebrini. He steals the show with his charm and ability to score. Fans are captivated by his game-winning plays. His young charm draws people in, so much so that stars like Sidney Crosby want him under their wing.
Will? He's the shadow.
The mastermind behind the pretty face. The shadow writer to the rising pop star. He sets up all of Mack's goals; their signature moves were all practiced until Will was satisfied, and he should be happy that it works, because it helps their team out. But, God, it gets difficult to be the shadow. His TikToks only get over 20k views if Mack's in them, all his interviews are all "Mack this.." and "Mack that..".
Mack Mack Mack.
But he can't make himself get mad at Macklin; he's done no wrong to him, quite the opposite, really. He's been so kind since they first met, quickly leaving behind their BU/BC "rivalry". They got so close that they practically lived as if they were one person. Every day, eat, practice, two touch, and give Toffoli a hard time. Together.
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Then the schedule changed. Michael Misa came. The youngest addition to the Sharks. Nice guy, good vibes, good game, a great addition to their team. Will would never have been bothered with a new guy. He was a new guy once. But he was bothered. Bothered by the fact that his time with Mack had lessened as he took the rookie under his wing. Couldn't one of the older guys do it? He was watching them get closer every practice and couldn't stop the creeping feeling of something in his throat while doing it.
Pre-game December 13, 2025.
Mack and Misa got so close that they were given the nickname M&M. They were having a conversation, and Will wished he were a part of it after taking a good look at Mack's face. His eyes crinkled with a smile, staring right at Misa as they conversed about playing Sidney Crosby. Will stood up to take a look at himself in the restroom mirror. He looked tired, his eye bags were deeper than normal, and with a sigh, he rinsed his face with cold water. A familiar sound came from the locker room, something that used to be reserved for Will.
Macklin was laughing. Laughing at something Misa said. A Rush of that feeling in his throat came back, and this time he couldn't swallow...
*Cough cough*
He coughed out...
Petals?
The airway in his throat opened instantly after the petals left his mouth.
Will stared in confusion at the damp rose petals in his hands. There's no way he could have eaten a rose. Heck, he doesn't even own plants in his apartment. Maybe this was a prank? He thought back to the to-go meal he bought. Him eating a humble Subway sandwich on his way here. Maybe the worker placed that instead of spinach? While he was too sleepy to notice. Surely.
Convincing himself that's where the petals came from, he nodded to himself, crumbling the petals and throwing them in the garbage bin.
Today was a very special game for them all. Going against an organization like the Pittsburgh Penguins, who already had multiple cups under their belt, thanks to their captain, Sidney Crosby, and his 'A' Evgeni Malkin, won't be easy. They are still a developing team full of young players, while they are a stable team full of veterans that have been in this league for years, with only one youngster named Ben Kindle. Smitty thinks of how cool it would be to learn directly from so many experienced players. That Kindle guy has it good.
"Smith, it's time to head to the ice, games starting, bud," Goodrow called out to him from the locker room.
"Be right there!" Will took one more look in the mirror, stepped out to grab his stick, and headed towards the ice.
'ROARR!' The arena was buzzing. Fans of both organizations filled the stands. Some with customized signs, others with hands full of beer, all ready to rep their favorite team. Amidst all the noise around the rink Wills eyes only landed on Mack. Mack was in front of him in line for the National Anthem. He had his head down on top of his stick, trying to stop himself from laughing as the singer missed a note. Will would have done the same if not for his throat getting a strange itching sensation as Mack started leaning towards a giggling Misa, who was also in line, just in front of Macklin.
Curse that subway worker.
The first two periods did not go well. He wasn't playing his best or connecting to Macklin at all. Maybe it's the lack of practice while Mack was helping Misa get comfortable with the schedule and practice in the NHL. Or maybe it's the distracting sensation in his throat every time Mack gets too close.
Will swallowed the feeling down every time.
Third period (Sharks down 4-1)
Things were better, no goals yet, still trailing behind Pittsburgh. How does Sidney do it?
Then they were pushing. Macklin passed the puck towards Will. Will skated up with the puck near the wall, the puck just sliding off his stick. And Smitty did what any hockey player would do: he reached. His stick was about to make contact with the puck, but instead, someone made contact with him.
Parker Wotherspoon. #28 of the Pittsburgh Penguins.
The Penguin defenseman is controversial for the way he plays. Could be known for playing hockey rough and dirty. And as Will reached out for the puck, he knew he'd become his next victim.
He felt himself pushed against the boards, as a stinging pain crawled up his arm, as the defenseman pushed himself up from where he had just crushed him. Will knew he couldn't fight back, especially with his head and body screaming in pain. So, he skated his way out of the rink, ignoring the referee whistle, and yelling at the fans at the commotion going on behind him. He held his arm, wincing as he walked down the tunnel into the medic room.
As a hockey player, you want to be the difference for your team. You want that winning goal, the assists, the praise, but most importantly, to be in that rink alongside your teammates, win or lose.
In the medic room, the trainer checked the movement of his arm, annotating any wince or odd movement Will made during the tests. The trainer was a tall brunet man, likely in his early 30's, judging by the beard, and fit enough to carry an average player if he needed to. He had his eyebrows furrowed, looking at the notes and back up again at Will. Then his face shifted into a look of sympathy. Will knew his fate was already decided.
The trainer wrote down 'week-to-week' and began writing his recovery training plan. Leaning over to grab a sling cast out of his medical equipment bag, setting it onto the table.
Will stared at the cast, already dreading the upcoming months.
Sitting back in his stall. Will learned that the commotion as he left was Eklund and Mack taking on Wotherspoon. Eky was holding Wotherspoon down as Macklin kept throwing rights. Hitting so hard they drew blood out of the Defenders' lips. The YouTube clip played on his phone screen, Will focused on the figures in the video, the feeling in his throat threatened to start again. So, he turned the clip off. He did say thank you to them after the game.
"It was nothing, it was the right thing to do for a teammate like you," Eky told him with his signature grin on his face. "I hope you feel better soon. Text me if you need anything, I'll be here." Eky hugged his uninjured side and made his way out of the rink.
Mack was waiting by Will's car.
"Heyyy," Macklin's voice raised a little as he stepped forward, off the spot he was leaning on the car.
"Hey." Will unenthusiastically said back. Walking towards his linemate, wincing a few times, still getting used to the faint pain and pressure in his arm.
"So, how are you feeling?" Mack spoke carefully, able to see the unusual and uncomfortable movement of the other center.
"Well, other than the fact I can't play or drive for months, I'm doing pretty well." Will showed the sling on his arm, emphasizing his situation. He also extended that 'good' kind of in sarcasm, but mostly in humor.
"Then I'll be driving us home," Mack says while opening the passenger door, extending his arm as a "come on in".
"I could have done that by myself, I still have one good arm," Will said, using the cast-less arm to lightly shove at Mack, who looked amused, still holding onto the car door.
"You are already suffering enough; let me be nice to you." He said, quickly shutting the passenger door and making his way to the driver's side.
As Mack entered, Will spoke again,
"Thanks for having my back out there. I saw you and Eky go after spoons."
Mack paused for a sec after starting the car. Then he looked over to Smith.
"Yeah, I mean, he hurt you pretty bad, Eky got a couple shoves in, and he needed to know we are not going to be easy. Also, that happened pretty much fueled us to win. We were pumped up, obviously not because u got injured, but in the way, we had someone to fight for."
"Wow." Will said, "That sounds rehearsed. How many times have you said that in interviews today?"
"Too many." Macklin laughed, a sweet, lighthearted laugh. The one that makes people want to hear him do it more.
But God, Smitty wished he didn't.
As pressure started building at the bottom of his neck, he quickly swallowed, tasting a new, rosy flavor. And before Mack can get any suspicions of it, Will chose to speak up.
"let's head home, yeah? It was a pretty hard day." Will did his best to sound normal while the pedals sat uncomfortably in his throat.
Mack took one glance at Will.
And put the car in drive.