Work Text:
“Hey,”
Troy was woken up by a hushed whisper. There was a time where being startled out of sleep would make his heart race, but his body hadn’t been in that kind of survival state for a long time. Besides, it was just Harris.
“‘m up” He mumbled back, sitting up slowly and rubbing the crust out of his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Look” Harris was already up and dressed, which was expected considering the fact that he worked a 9-5 while Troy’s schedule changed weekly. He sat down in bed and pushed his phone into Troy’s line of sight.
The bright screen so early made him squint, but once his eyes finally adjusted he could make out a colourful instagram post, headlined ‘Centaurs Forward comes out as ‘Queer’ in new Instagram Post’.
Troy’s heart stopped for a moment, the way it always did when anything to do with hockey was paired with ‘queer’, and it took him another moment to scan the post before realising.
“Luca?”
Harris nodded and took the phone away again. He was excited, grinning down at Troy as though this had already made his day at 7am. “It’s great. Did you know?”
“No,” He really hadn’t. Sure, there had been a moment or two where Troy had suspected, but he’d assumed it was some kind of toxic masculinity left over from Toronto. “It’s cool”
He knew he wasn’t sounding as excited as he should be, but he honestly wasn’t sure why he couldn’t feel it. Another queer hockey player was great, as was another one on his own team, but there was something about the situation that wasn’t letting Troy feel happy.
Harris caught on as quickly as he always did when something was wrong with Troy. “Yeah, it’s cool. So what’s wrong?”
Troy glanced down at his own phone, reading the clock and knowing immediately that now wasn’t the time for Harris to aid him through an introspection.
“You just woke me up” He joked instead, pulling Harris down for one last kiss before he had to go. “I’ll build up some enthusiasm by the time you get home”
Harris seemed appeased, smiling and kissing Troy back before straightening back up and grabbing his bag. “You should text him”
“On it” Troy reached across to pick up his phone properly, and by the time he looked back up, Harris had left. He raised his voice so it could be heard through the hall, “Love you!”
“Love you too!”
With the final click of the front door, Troy was left alone to his thoughts.
Luca was so young. He was the kind of rookie that would’ve been destroyed in Toronto, and the kind that Troy wanted to protect now.
Maybe that was part of it. Maybe knowing firsthand how much scrutiny being openly queer could bring made something protective flare up in Troy’s chest before he even realised it.
Or maybe, Troy was jealous.
Maybe he knew that Luca wouldn’t be doing this if he’d landed in Toronto like Troy had. Maybe he was jealous that the road had already been paved for Luca to come out so early into his career and be welcomed with open arms.
Troy decided that both could be true at the same time. He could be happy for Luca and want to shield him from whatever backlash would come, while also mourning what he could’ve been if he’d been drafted into a somewhat accepting hockey scene.
Toronto was the only choice for him, though. As soon as it was projected that Toronto would get the number 1 draft pick, that was where Troy had to go. He’d been training for it all his life. He had missed birthdays, school trips, vacations, all so he could make it to the top.
Troy was bitter about that too. The childhood he’d lost.
But he couldn’t blame that on Luca. He knew that carrying that blame across would only make things worse for everyone involved. Making the world a safer space for queer players could never be a bad thing, but Troy figured he was also allowed to be frustrated that it hadn’t been an option for him.
Private Chat: Luca
Troy: Luca!! Welcome to the club, buddy
Luca: Thank you! It is a nice club ☺️
Luca: I want to say thank you for something else also
Troy: Oh? For what?
Luca: You and Scott Hunter changed a lot. Ilya and Hollander did too, but they didn’t have choice. I want to say thank you for being brave, I suppose.
Troy: I thought he told you to call him Shane
Luca: Ah
Luca: It is too weird
Troy: Yeah, don’t blame you there.
Troy: I don’t deserve that credit, but thanks.
Troy: I think that medal goes to Scott
Luca: Yes I texted him too.
Luca: He said to ask to be in a groupchat?
Troy: Oh, right. One second.
Puck Suckers
Scott: I still don’t like this name
Ilya: Boo Hoo, it’s funny
Ilya: It is not like people don’t know we do it
Eric: To be fair, I think a lot of fans would like to forget.
Troy added Luca Haas (*** *** *** ****)
Ilya: Luca!!
Luca: Hello ☺️👋
Scott: Hey Luca, sorry I would’ve added you myself but I was texting you quickly before practise.
Ilya: Practise for what? Losing another cup?
Baldwin: That one was weak
Ilya: I know ((
Ilya: I am distracted by being happy for Luca!
Eric: Agreed, congrats Luca!
Scott: Congrats 🙌
Shane: Congratulations Luca 😊
Ilya: CONGRATULATIONS LUCA 🎉🎉🎉
Baldwin: Congratulations!
Lundin: Congrats kid 🙂
Ilya: @Troy 🤨
Troy: I already said congrats
Ilya: Say it again
Troy: Congrats Luca
Private Chat: Scott Hunter
Scott: Hey, how are you doing?
Troy: Did you mean to text me?
Scott: Yes?
Scott: I’m not that old, I can still read
Troy: Oh. Sorry, I thought you meant to text Luca
Scott: No, I meant you.
Scott: I was asking how you’re doing about Luca
Troy: What, that he’s gay?
Troy: I know I don’t have a great past, but you should at least know I’m no longer homophobic
Scott: 🤦
Troy: Wow, who taught you that one?
Scott: I think I stole it from Kyle.
Scott: Anyway, I don’t mean do you have an issue with it
Scott: I mean how are you?
Troy: I’m fine?
Troy: Happy for him.
Scott: Sure
Scott: It’s okay to not be.
Troy: What? Obviously I’m happy for him. It’s a good thing
Scott: It’s a great thing, don’t get me wrong.
Scott: I’m just saying you wouldn’t be out of line to feel a bit jealous.
Troy: are you saying you feel jealous?
Scott: A healthy amount, I think
Scott: I’m beyond happy that he’s able to do this easier than we did.
Scott: But it’s also fair to be upset that it wasn’t that easy for us.
Troy: …yeah, you’re kinda spot on
Troy: Wait, were you jealous of me?
Scott: Less than I am now.
Scott: Honestly, I was just happy that the burden wasn’t only mine anymore. That I wouldn’t be the only out, active player.
Scott: It was a relief, even though I wasn’t sure of you.
Troy: Yeah. That’s my bad.
Scott: Yeah it is. That’s not the point right now, though.
Scott: It’s easier to be jealous of Luca because with every new out player the load gets shared more, so we know it won’t be as heavy for him.
Troy: It’s still gonna suck
Scott: Definitely. Things haven’t changed that much
Troy: But you’re right
Troy: I feel like an awful person, but I keep thinking that he’s so lucky to be able to do this
Scott: That’s not a crime
Troy: No I guess not
Troy: I think I’m just bitter
Scott: That’s okay too.
Troy: He texted me to say thank you, which was really strange
Troy: I don’t think anyone’s ever told me I’ve made things better before.
Scott: Yeah, that was strange for me too at first.
Troy: Sorry.
Scott: Oh, no. When you reached out, I was more curious than anything.
Troy: I was good gossip fuel?
Scott: For me and Kip, admittedly, but nobody else. I didn’t know for sure if you were gay.
Troy: Mhm
Scott: Okay, I did, but it was your identity to figure out in your own time
Troy: Just wish I’d spent that time a little better. And faster.
Scott: You can’t change that now. All we can do is try change it for other people.
Scott: Which we’ve done.
Troy: Partly
Scott: Anything is better than before.
Troy: Agreed.
There wasn’t any Centaurs practise today, but Troy found himself travelling to the rink anyway. It was the middle of a weekday in March, so it was all but empty, and he was a common enough occurrence that nobody was leering at him.
He skated slow laps first to warm himself up, stopping twice to take pictures with fans before being left to his own devices.
He’d never been a major level celebrity, but 99% of hockey players didn’t get that. For non-fans outside of Canada and America, Troy was sure they wouldn’t be able to name more than three players. So he’d never been bitter about fame.
In Toronto, he had been a big name. He was constantly first line, breaking records and keeping up a steady fan base. Kent had overshadowed him, sure, but Troy was a damn good player and everyone knew that. Even Kent wasn’t famous outside hockey circles, and that was fine.
The most Troy had seen a player break into mainstream media was Scott. At the time, it had made him nauseous. Not out of homophobia, he’d become self aware by then, but more so due to the influx of fans that were suddenly aware of hockey overall. Queer fans. Fans that might see him.
None of them did. Not that he knew of. Most new fans took one look at his reputation and cast him aside as someone not to associate with. The first time that had changed for him had been once he’d started posting for charities on his instagram, which had brought in new fans he hadn’t expected, and then when he came out as gay.
For a few weeks after, the stadium was constantly packed. He’d go out for lunch and have to stop for pictures. He still wasn’t a celebrity the way actors and singers were, but he was suddenly known. Suddenly watched. But suddenly, he hadn’t had anything to hide.
Troy increased his speed, zipping across the ice in straight lines and beginning to break a sweat.
The internet had worked it magic quickly, and soon every aspect of his past had been brought to light. The problematic aspects of his own past were no surprise to anyone, and were easily brushed off by fans in a way that Troy wasn’t sure if he liked, but what had surprised him was the amount they’d found from his childhood.
Troy’s father had always pushed him hard. He’d played through a broken wrist when he was 16. He’d been on a strict diet from the day he was born. Troy always believed he wasn’t destined for greatness, but manufactured for it.
He’d never known there was video evidence of anything upsetting, but fans had found it. There was clips of Troy as a child, Curtis holding his face on the side of the ice before pushing him back into play, Troy falling and breaking his wrist before getting back up and playing on.
There were clips from Toronto, too. These ones Troy knew had been recorded, but had really hoped would be buried. Most of them were at the end of games, where Troy had pushed himself beyond every physical limit and had had to sink to his knees on the ice more than once to avoid collapse, or where he’d missed a goal and had hit his head against the board once back on the bench.
The internets idea of him had softened even more after that. They saw him as something close to a victim, now. Someone with a strictly christian family (they’d gone through his father’s following, too. Nobody had liked what they found there) who had never gotten a day to rest or be free in his life. Suddenly his past was excused. He’d even had a few more players replying to his apologies after that.
Troy hadn’t overworked himself like that in a while. He still worked hard, but his limit was where he stopped. He wasn’t fighting to carry a team anymore, or fighting to prove himself to his friends and his father. He had a team to rely on that could pick up the slack when he couldn’t, and suddenly those strict diets and post game breakdowns weren’t as necessary.
He still never…stopped. That was normal for a hockey player, yeah, but Troy couldn’t help but wonder what would be different in his life if he’d gotten to choose it.
He’d wanted to be a goalie, for a time. He liked the respect they got from other players, and his own coach had said he was good at it. His father hadn’t appreciated the suggestion.
He’d done figure skating for two years. His father had never liked it, but his mother had signed him up saying it would help his agility. Troy knew now that she’d most likely wanted to break down the toxic masculinity mindset before it started, though maybe she should’ve known Curtis’ influence had been too strong.
But even outside of hockey, Troy didn’t know what he would have done. Probably not something overly academic. He had never liked maths or science. He’d liked english. He enjoyed the understanding that reading into characters and people could give you. It was a perceptiveness that he didn’t have in real life.
Either way, it was done now. He loved his team, and his family, and while he didn’t always love hockey, he did love skating.
He was going at speed now, skidding to stops and doing spins to turn himself around faster than he could normally. The ice had cleared completely, and Troy recognised that the session was up, but the workers were letting him continue on anyway. Maybe they could see he needed it.
There was a rush that came with skating that he couldn’t appreciate with other people. It felt like he was flying, but it also felt like the weight holding him down. Maybe he wasn’t born for hockey, but some part of Troy believed that he was born to skate. No matter how he made it there.
He left his jacket on the side of the rink, leaving him in a compression shirt and sweatpants. It felt strange to be on the ice without gear, but it was also freeing, in a way. Like a weight lifted off of his shoulders.
He pushed himself up and did a single jump, landing it on one leg before skating laps again. There was a lot about his life that Troy wished he could change, but he knew he couldn’t.
There was a period in time where he’d hated the ice more than anything else in his life. It felt like a representation of everything that he had done, and everything that had been done to him. It felt different now, especially in the dark, alone.
It felt like freedom. Like he could jump high enough and never land back down. Like if he skated fast enough, he could burn off the memories staining his skin.
Troy slowed to a stop in the middle of the rink, gasping for air and slowly spinning in place to make sure one last time that he was alone.
Once he knew he was, he lowered himself down to his knees, working hard to catch his breath and wiping at his sweat-and-tear dampened face with the back of his hand.
He’d left cuts in the ice, alongside small grooves and dips where he’d pushed up and landed. He must’ve been skating for an hour, if not a bit more. He closed his eyes, taking in the sounds of his own laboured breathing and the buzzing of the lights above him.
He could hear when the door behind him opened and closed, and could immediately recognise the footsteps there.
“Nice lady at the front desk called me,” Ilya said, removing his blade guards and skating slowly onto the torn up ice. “Said my player is having a mental breakdown”
Troy lifted his head, pushing his wet hair back out of his face. “I’m fine”
“Mh. I wouldn’t say so” Ilya crouched down beside him, passing him an unopened bottle of gatorade and tilting his head in consideration. “I think this has been a long time coming”
That, Troy could agree with. He nodded, taking a few large gulps of the gatorade and shifting his position into something more sustainable.
“Yeah. I feel better for it”
“Good,” Ilya patted his shoulder twice before standing up straight, offering a hand down. Troy took it and slowly pulling himself up. “You want to skate still?”
Troy’s entire body ached. He still wanted to skate, especially considering his Captain was the one asking, but…
“Not if you want me to stay standing”
Ilya smiled. “Right answer. You passed. Go sit”
Troy pushed himself over to the bench, collapsing down onto it and resting his head on the edge of the board. He could hear Ilya as he began to skate, but even he seemed to be taking things slow, as if he was avoiding any intense tricks for Troy’s sake.
He didn’t realise he had zoned out until Ilya was right in front of him, holding up his jacket and his phone.
“You are cold, Barrett” He said without waiting for Troy to figure out what he wanted himself. “And your phone is buzzing”
“Thanks” Troy pulled his jacket back on, sighing slightly at the warmth it brought. Harris had bought it for him at Christmas, so he wore it to the rink a lot.
His phone had two missed texts. One was his agent, listing numerous media outlets that wanted a statement on Luca, but Troy cared more so about the text from Harris.
Private Chat: Harris ❤️
Harris ❤️: Hey bud! Ilya texted and said you’re at the rink, so text when you’re done with boys night so I can start dinner 🫶
Troy: Done now. Coming home
Ilya had sat down at some point, his shoulder pressing steadily against Troy’s. He seemed a bit more hesitant now.
“You are my friend.”
“Yeah” Troy agreed, pocketing his phone again after confirming Harris got his text.
“You know you can talk to me”
Troy shouldn’t have been surprised that a deep talk was in the cards, and usually Ilya had great advice that he was eager for, but what he needed more than anything right now was a warm dinner and time with his boyfriend.
“I know,” He said anyway, dropping his head down onto Ilya’s shoulder for a moment. They’d grown more and more tactile with each other as they’d grown closer, and Troy appreciated the easy affection that was always within arms reach. “But I’m okay. I promise.”
“Okay.” Ilya still seemed unsure, which Troy couldn’t exactly blame him for.
“Do you want to come to mine for dinner? Shane too?”
“Ah, Shane is visiting our baby gay.”
“You didn’t go?” That surprised Troy more than anything. Ilya was Luca’s mentor, his older brother. If anyone should be there, Troy would’ve assumed it would be him.
Ilya’s face softened for a moment. “I did, but they have things to talk about that I cannot understand. That, and my other baby gay needed me”
Troy scrunched his nose as they stood together, making their way to the door and removing their skates together. “I’ve been gay for years, Rozy”
“Gay, yes, but not living in it. You went to your first gay bar last year.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He sighed and zipped his coat up, pushing his cold hands into the insulated pockets. “So, dinner?”
“Yes. After you thank nice lady at front desk.”
“Ah fuck, yeah.”
Ilya waited outside by his car while Troy talked to the front desk, apologising profusely and handing over all the cash he had in his pockets, most of which was returned.
“You made a new friend?” Ilya said as Troy came outside. Troy shook his head, smiling slightly and getting into his own car.
“She wouldn’t take my money”
“She is big fan, conversation was probably enough”
Troy rolled down his window so he could still talk to Ilya before driving off. “You’ll follow?”
“Yes. I’ll follow.”
The drive home was short, which Troy had never been more grateful for. He didn’t know how long he wanted to be alone for right now, and he was sure Ilya was feeling the same way. Ilya had seen him at a low point before, which meant he could almost definitely recognise it now. It was also most likely why the same protective streak Troy had for Luca, existed with Ilya for Troy.
As if to prove Troy’s internal point, Ilya was immediately back by his side once their cars were parked. Their shoulders brushed together with every step until they finally made it indoors, and Troy abandoned him in favour of finding Harris.
“Hey, how was your-“ Harris was cut off my Troy barrelling into his arms, squeezing him tightly and pressing his face into the crook of his neck. “Oh. Hey, bud”
“Hi” Troy mumbled back. He was vaguely aware of Ilya lingering before going into the kitchen, presumably to make himself feel useful with dinner. “I brought Ilya. Is that ok?”
“Yeah,” Harris’ hand rubbed smoothly up and down Troy’s back, soothing the sore muscles there as if through magic. “Go shower, foods almost done”
“I love you”
“I love you too. Now go, you stink”
Troy laughed and slowly removed himself from Harris’ embrace, retreating to clean the grime and cold sweat off of his body.
The water felt nice, and he stayed under it for longer than he should have. It made the tightness in his muscles and the ever present pain in his wrist fade just enough to be tolerable, and the soft clothes Harris had left out for him allowed him to keep that comfortable feeling going.
By the time he returned, Harris and Ilya were mid conversation, seemingly gossiping lowly about someone or something that Troy wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.
He sat down beside Harris, taking his warm bowl of pasta and eating it in silence. He was content to allow them to talk around him, especially considering he didn’t have much to contribute anyway.
There was a safety in knowing that you weren’t expected to perform in a place. His whole life had been a performance. Pretending to be straight, to be passionate about hockey the way other people were. It was nice now to have a true family that didn’t expect that of him. A family that would pick him up from a spiral by the scruff of his neck and allow him to sit in silence afterwards.
On occasion, Harris would bump their knees together and would wait for Troy to nod in conformation that he was okay before continuing to speak. In the same way, Ilya would kick at his foot and examine his eyes for a moment before returning to the conversation.
Troy thought that they could save a lot of time by just asking, but he appreciated this too. Besides, he didn’t have the best track record for telling the truth about things.
“Is Luca okay?” He spoke up finally, Harris and Ilya’s plates were fully empty and Troy’s was only half so. Ilya’s eyes flickered down to it and he frowned marginally. Troy got the feeling that his protectiveness was making him see something that wasn’t there, at least not now. Not for him.
“I thought you texted him. Eat.”
“I am. And I did, but did Shane text?”
Ilya nodded slowly and took a sip of the water he’d been drinking. Harris had offered vodka, but it apparently wasn’t Russian approved. “He did. Luca is overwhelmed, but fine. He isn’t alone, and he knew he would get this reaction.”
Troy nodded too, looking back down at his pasta and stirring it with his fork. “That’s good. That he’s not alone.”
“Yes,” Ilya reached out his fork and stole a bite of Troy’s pasta, as if to help carry the load of it. “We are not usually as alone as we think”
Troy glanced up at Ilya, then to Harris, who was watching them talk with an expression Troy could only describe as worried fondness.
“Yeah. I know.”