Work Text:
Connor Bedard
It’d all started out so easy. Training. In. Vancouver. Like I always do.
With Mack, Ben, and Fraser, being with them to practice sounded like such a nice idea. I rarely got to play with them like this, on same teams or just playing hockey in general in ways more than just the regular NHL rivalry.
I was morally more excited in seeing Fraser again. I hadn’t seen him nearly five months, our teams rarely played against each other and I hated relying on phone calls to talk to him.
Arriving to that arena after spending my morning with Fraser felt so much like home. The time was going by so quick and joy that had filtered through the air.
I could feel the weight finally being lifted off my shoulders briefly post-season.
Until the incident.
It’d been mid scrimmage, everyone was taking turns to go out and go 3 offense vs 2 defense + goalie. I was up for offense when it happened.
One moment, I was skating to be open for the puck for whom was open—I couldn’t tell who, and the next, I’d turned weirdly and hit the ground with a thud. Landing on my left shoulder.
I’d sworn for a second that everything had turned black in my vision. Pain shooting through my body and up my arm, a hiss leaving past my gritted teeth.
My shoulder hurt like hell. I couldn’t handle it longer, getting up on my feet fast enough, gripping my left shoulder as I skate off. Leaving my stick behind on the ice as I pass by everyone.
“Bedsy?” I heard Fraser’s voice shout out, a brief glance was sent towards him as I catch his gaze long enough to see the concern in his expression.
I could hear him skating behind after me as I rushed off the ice, following a trainer down the tunnel to the room.
“Leave him, Mint.” A voice had called after in response to Fraser’s worried voice to my injury.
There’d been a pause, but I heard from down the tunnel when Fraser’s skating had stopped reluctantly.
“This way, Bedard.” A trainer led me through, directing me into the trainer’s room as they guided me to a chair.
I’d taken off my jersey slowly, wincing as they move to inspect the bruising. When I heard the hiss from a trainer, I knew it was bad.
“How long?”
——-
Minimum of six fucking weeks.
I could already hear the internet’s laughter at seeing the news. I’d slammed the door to mine & Fraser’s shared Vancouver home closed behind me, throwing my hockey gear aside as my shoulder remained patched up.
That practice wasn’t going to end for another two hours, and Fraser was probably going to hang with the others after too. So great, so fucking great. I’m left alone with my thoughts and what’s potentially on the internet to fill my boredom.
An annoyed grunt left my lips as I sat on the couch, running a hand through my hair with a free hand. I was fucking pathetic. Another injury after I’d just rejected going to worlds to RECOVER. And I got an injury regardless of such.
it was like the universe was against me or something.
I exhaled, opening my phone in frustration. Needing something to relieve it somehow. And the number one rule of being an athlete was to never look yourself up.
And I fucking broke that rule a whole bunch.
It’s a bad habit to have, but I couldn’t resist it. I needed to see what people thought. And already, videos of my injury incident was wide-spread across platforms. Mainly instagram.
I’d only braced myself briefly before opening the comments to see what the hell the fans were saying in reaction.
They all had similar responses and thoughts.
“God, what a bust.”
”He’s so soft.”
”Pathetic, much?”
”Bedard was never good, he was just overhyped.”
”Shitty player on a shitty team, no difference about him compared to any other on that team.”
”Macklin Celebrini is already way better than he was prospected to be.”
It was full of toxic shit. And yet, I didn’t stop reading them. Letting them fill my brain until all I could remember was how terrible I was at hockey and how I didn’t deserve to even be in the NHL at all.
My thumb kept scrolling through the comments until it started to tremble, losing my grip on the phone. It’s shaken so hard that I dropped it, letting it land on the floor with a bam.
“Shit!” I cursed, holding my trembling hand as it shook aggressively to the point it’d caused my arm to as well.
I kicked my phone, getting up to try and clear my headspace, regretting looking through the comments even though I can’t look back now.
”Shit,” I cursed again, quieter under my breath as the words filled my thoughts till they were all that I could think about.
Pathetic.
Soft.
Weak.
Worthless.
A player that doesn’t deserve shit.
I’d let them overwhelm me till my pacing turned frantic near the kitchen. I’d let it overwhelm me till the frustration took over.
I’d let it overwhelm me till my trembling fist hit the wall. Leaving a hole and my knuckles cut to bleed.
“Fuck!” I cursed loudly, clutching my hand to my chest as blood oozed from my knuckles.
Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes, whether it be from the pain or the self-doubt repetition in my head.
I pressed my fabric to the cuts, the blood leaking through my shirt as I press my back to the opposite wall, sliding down till I hit the floor, knees tucked to my chest. My gaze had switched from the injury to the hole in the water momentarily.
Fraser’s going to kill me.
I could feel the tears streaming down my face for a whole different reason now. I was so fucked. Fucked in more ways than one. For punching a hole in the wall and my career and reputation in general.
Fraser’s going to yell at me when he sees the mess I created, and heartedly, I would deserve it. I don’t get how someone like him could be with someone like me.
Someone so perfect compared to someone so worthless like me.
How could a couple like us even work out? I don’t know. Because i’d spent practically every waking moment alone to myself about him, how he deserved someone that was way better than me.
Hell, with just what’s been happening lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if he broke up with me sooner or later.
I was never going to be a star player, I was always destined to be just a bust.
I couldn’t do much with Chicago’s pressure on me and the NHL as a whole. Nonetheless, the death threats i’d get. Some days, I wished I didn’t exist altogether.
Or, to disappear and nobody would question why.
And, maybe I’d even sometimes wished that Fraser would leave hating me, so I wouldn’t have to worry about upsetting another person I loved for who I am.
I didn’t realize I was crying until sobs racked through my body, tremors shaking as I wrapped my arms around myself. Knees pulled tightly up to my chest as I cry silently, my shoulder fucked up like hell as I let the self-doubt overcome me till it was all I knew of in that moment.
My bloodied knuckles oozed till there were drops on the ground too, staining the wooden floor as the evidence of the hole in the wall laid there.
I was a mess. And an unlovable one at that.
I let myself cry for the first time in months for real on the floor of my home with Fraser’s before I’d lie there till I’d passed out from the exhaustion.
——-
The next time I’d woken up, I was in a bed. My knuckles that once bled felt bandaged. And something—or someone, was touching my hair and had an arm wrapped around me.
“Con?”
Fraser.
I recognized the voice from the moment I woke up. My eyes blinked, glazed, making eye contact with Fraser that sat in our bed next to me, a concerned expression on his face.
And suddenly, all the memories of what I’d done moments before I’d passed out flooded in.
Immediately, I’d sat up so quickly that I nearly bonked my head on the headboard, launching myself away from Fraser’s grasp so quickly that a confused noise left his mouth.
“Connor?” He’d repeated again in his soft, gentle voice that made me remember all over again of how much I just don’t deserve him.
“Stop,” I croaked quietly, running a hand through my hair with my non-injured hand, turning away from him.
“Connor, what’s the matter? You’re scaring me, is your shoulder alright?” Fraser spoke, reaching a gentle Hand out to rest on my left shoulder.
I’d flinched away from the touch briefly, making him freeze and I quickly regretted my action. He pulled his hand away, taking away the warmth that was there five seconds ago.
“Please, just stop.” I whispered again, voice cracking mid way as I sat there, guilt written all over my face and as my jaw clenched.
“Stop what? I’m confused. Will you look at me?”
“Everything. Just- everything. Please, I don’t deserve any of this.” I spoke, plead in my tone as tears start to spill from my eyes.
“Connor..”
“Just stop, Frase. I don’t wanna hear it. Please, just get it over with and get to the part where you break up with me. I don’t want to stay stuck like this.” I say, and hearing no response from Fraser, I continued, voice wavering as I turn back to him reluctantly.
“I’m awkward, I’m pathetic, I can barely play two shifts of hockey without getting injured, and you deserve someone so much better. Someone that can actually give you good and not a destructive, worthless piece of shit like me, and-”
I catch myself getting cut off when Fraser grabbed my face with both hands, pulling me close till our lips crashed. My eyes had widened briefly, a cried whimper pressed against Fraser’s lips that he swallowed down.
My breath hitched again and again as cries racked my body till we pulled apart, not far away as Fraser pulled me close till my head was against his chest and his arms were wrapped around me.
Hiccups left my lips as I press my face to his torso, trying to hide my blotchy red eyes.
“Fuck, I’m so pathetic.” I murmur, sniffling as Fraser cupped the back of my neck.
“Be quiet, for once, Bedsy.” Fraser tells me, his firm—yet gentle voice, getting me to shut up quite immediately.
Silence fell between us momentarily like Fraser was thinking before he broke it, speaking up.
“I hate how you think of yourself that way. That you’re some soft, pathetic, worthless hockey player because of what the internet thinks. And that’s such a bullshit reason in believing it too.” He spoke, fingers running through my hair briefly, making sure I was listening.
And I was.
Fraser continued not long after.
“You shape your mind into thoughts that you need to meet everyone’s expectations and you’ll destroy yourself for it, whether if you like it or not. And I hate it, I hate watching you destroy yourself for others’ joy.”
I sniffled at his words, trying to hide my face. Though, he doesn’t let me, dropping his hand from my hair to cup my jaw.
”And for the foremost? I hate how you believe that you think you’re not enough for me. How you’ll try and get me reasons to break up with you because you believe that I deserve someone better and someone that isn’t like you. But that’s such a fucking lie, and I wished you understood that.” Fraser had said every word with such firmness, making sure every word got through my head.
I could feel tears warming up again in my eyes, trying to tear my gaze away from Fraser’s concerned expression even though his grip on my face won’t let me do so.
“Connor.”
The simple word of my name caught my attention again, looking up at Fraser willingly for once this whole time.
“I’m so worried about you, I think my heart will break from such. I love you, can you even hear me? I love you so much, and there’s nobody else better. You’re it for me, I want you to know that. I don’t want to date anyone else, I don’t want to kiss another guy or girl, I want it to be you till I die.”
I held onto every word he said like the last thread, I felt the hot liquid of tears pour down my face as a shaking breath left my lips.
My lower lip trembled, as Fraser’s hand on my neck adjusted to holding my face too, wiping away the tears.
“Don’t cry, please. I hate seeing you cry,” Fraser pleaded quietly, leaning in close enough to press a gentle kiss to my head.
His thumb wiped away at my tears, trying to stop them from coming as his eyes water too.
I tried to hold them back, but in the end, I broke down completely in his arms. The two of us had. Fraser had held me till the cries stopped racking my body.
I laid against him, as Fraser moved a hand from my face to my waist. His gaze landing on my bandaged up shoulder.
“how is it?” He asks, his eyes towards my shoulder had told me all I needed to know about his question.
“Trainer said I’ll be out minimum of six weeks, bad bruising, potentially dislocated and wants me to get it checked out.” I responded, sniffling as I grabbed a tissue to wipe away at my nose and blow a sneeze.
Fraser had hummed in acknowledgment, index finger rubbing small circles on my hip. I squirmed just a bit from the touch, before leaning into it.
A silent yawn left my mouth as I press my face against Fraser’s shoulder. “I’m tired,” I murmured.
“Okay.” Fraser murmured back, his hand placement moving to go around my waist before im suddenly being manhandled up to be laid down in a specific position beside him on the bed.
A yelp left my mouth before I settle against him. Head tucked beneath his chin, bandaged hands pressed against his torso as Fraser kept his grasp around me.
“I love you, Frase.” I murmur, already feeling myself doze off.
“I love you too, Connie.”
Within few minutes, and Fraser’s gentle hands running through my hair, I fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.
Fraser had stayed awake a little longer though, staring down at me as he pressed a kiss to my head.
“So about that wall..” He’d mumbled quietly to himself with a soft smile on his face, brushing away a strand of my hair.
Lying there together while the outside world stayed chaotic. And even if Connor’s phone blew up with toxic social media messages, it’d be shut off eventually. And deleted.
By the one and only, Fraser Minten.