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Today's the day he's been selfishly dreading for months. Macklin Celebrini is getting married and Will Smith is his best man.
Things hadn't been the same since he'd got drunk and confessed how he really felt to Mack. The vodka made him brave, the stupid sea air of the Cape gave him courage, and the fact Mack had spent Fourth of July with him- he thought it might have meant something. The silent mornings spent with a lazy arm thrown over each other's bodies. Never far apart, always touching, on the ice, at home, on the tour bus.
They'd spent three years orbiting each other, never quite committing to the next step. Silently wanting more- or at least Will did. Will wanted Mack more than anything, anyone he'd ever had before. His obsession was making him ill. He'd thought about requesting a trade, just to get away from everything, but the sharks were almost there, ready to competed for the cup. He didn't want to ruin his own career over a crush on his friend that would go away eventually. He thought back to the night it had all gone wrong. They'd watched the fireworks together, stuck in a crowd of Will's closest family and friends. Mack the only Canadian, a source of jokes for the whole weekend, but he laughed along and smiled. As if he was just glad to be there. Glad to be with Will. Halfway through the firework display, under the safe cover of nighttime and flashes of colour, Mack's hand had found its way to the small of Will's back. And he'd leant into it, desperately chasing the touch of Mack, stupidly thinking this could be something, anything.
They'd carried on drinking, long after the party had ended and the guests had gone home. It was just the pair of them, alone in a Cape Cod house that was too big and empty for two twenty-somethings. Will had Mack's head in his lap, playing with his hair. They'd never ran out of things to talk about before, but they'd settled into a comfortable silence, broken only by Will's stupidity.
"I think I love you Mack." He'd said, fingers still in Mack's hair, feeling the sweat and sea and alcohol all sticky between his fingers. Mack stared up at him, twisting his neck at an angle that looked painful. And that's the thing- Mack hadn't said anything horrible, or cruel.
"You can't." He'd said simply, and it was harsh, but true. Mack closed his eyes, and Will continued playing with his hair, until the bitter sea air got too cold. Will remembered bundling Mack back into the house, and they both collapsed into bed together. Will should've left it, maybe things wouldn't be so different if he hadn't pushed it.
"I meant what I said, Mackie." He whispered to Mack, who was inches away from him. It felt safe to confess in a darkened room, where he couldn't see the faces Mack was making at him. He felt Mack stiffen next to him, and he didn't move but the distance between them grew by miles.
"And I meant what I said. You can't. We can't."
The Fourth of July party was a year ago, and now Mack was getting married. Will, being the planner and organiser he is, had played the perfect role of Mack's best man. The bachelor party he'd organised was perfect, because no one knew Mack better than him. Mack had even gone home with Will after, with the excuse that he didn't want his new fiancé to see him in such a drunk state. Will didn't say that he'd noticed Mack hadn't touched alcohol all night, he let Mack live another lie. They never did anything, they just slept next to each other. They'd always wake up closer together than when they fell asleep, like their bodies were trying to subconsciously tell them something.
Mack had started dating the day he left Cape Cod. He didn't waste any time, finding a beautiful woman who would be willing to date a hockey player who was away from their home half of the year. Will couldn't help but notice that her short blonde hair and bright blue eyes were familiar, something that didn't go unnoticed by players who chirped Mack and Will. They both ignored the comments.
Will tightened his tie, and tried to style his hair again. This day was important to Mack, and he was going to do his best to act like a normal, supportive friend, and not like a man who'd been in love with his best friend for four years. Mack was in the hotel room next door, waiting for him. He'd promised Mack that he'd help him rehearse his vows and help him get ready. Reading between the lines of Mack's frantic 2am text messages, he was nervous and wanted Will there for emotional support. Will was waiting for the inevitable knock on his hotel room door that would surely come, any minute now. If Mack wanted him, he could come and get him.
Mack knocked on the door, because of course he did. He didn't even ask before he pushed past Will and let himself in to the room, sitting down on the edge of Will's bed and putting his face in his hands. That's what three years of sharing hotel rooms will do- you'll always feel like you belong in each others spaces. It was only during the last year they hadn't shared a hotel room, but no one noticed as they weren't on rookie contracts anymore, and it was normal. Will didn't ask Mack what was wrong. He just carried out getting ready, redoing his hair four times before Mack started to talk.
"Am I making a mistake?" Mack asked, in a small voice that didn't belong to a six foot hockey player. His face was bright red and his eyes were sore from where he'd been rubbing them.
"I think anyone who gets married at 22 is making a mistake." Will answered. He knew what Mack meant, and he was going to ignore it. There was no universe where Will Smith was going to be responsible for breaking up a wedding.
"That's not what I meant, Smitty." Mack said, staring at the floor now, refusing to look at Will.
"So what did you mean Mack?" Will sighed, already losing his patience with Mack. Mack knew how Will felt, he must know what this was doing to him.
"I don't. I don't know!" He said, face falling into his hands again. Will couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He gave up the cold act, and sat down next to Mack, throwing his arm around him. Mack gratefully leaned into the hug, craving the comfort.
"Do you love her?" Will asked, carefully, waiting for Mack's response. He was silent for a while, before choking out a quiet no.
"But I can't. I can't… I can't marry who I want." Mack whispered.
"Who do you want to marry, Mack?" Will asked him, facing Mack now. Will wasn't sure he wanted the answer, both dreading if Mack said his name or if he didn't.
Mack didn't answer with words, instead he closed the distance between the two of them. The kiss was terrible, Mack hit Will's teeth with his own and bit down on his lip. It was desperate and needy, and the best kiss Will had ever experienced. They only broke apart because Mack's phone rang. His stupid phone, set to the annoying default ringtone, just to ruin Will's life. It was enough to break the spell they were both under, and Mack jumped back from Will. He mumbled apologies as he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
The ceremony was beautiful, as Will knew it would be. That's what eighteen million dollars a year can get you, a twenty thousand dollar wedding budget just for flowers. Mack didn't make eye contact with Will, not during the ceremony or the speeches. He avoided looking in Will's general direction. It wasn't until the end of the night, once guests had started dancing, that Mack broke his silence. He slid up to Will, offering a hand and nodding to the dance floor. Some of their other teammates had decided to dance together, and Mack wanted to join in. He clearly only felt comfortable dancing with Will, and at least that made him feel a bit smug.
"Are you serious?" Will asked, rolling his eyes. Mack didn't respond, just grinned, and Will smiled back, and let himself be pulled away by Mack, because he would follow Mack anywhere he led him.
"Do you like her?" Mack asked him, as they danced around the dance floor.
"Of course I do, Mack. I like anyone that's stupid enough to put up with you." Will laughed, desperately wanting this moment to end, or for Mack to change the subject away from his now wife.
"Good." Mack muttered, and they didn't say anything else. Eventually the song ended and they left the dance floor alone.
This was how Will had found himself alone, wandering away from the party, along a coastal path that ran parallel to a beach. He always found the ocean peaceful, it reminded him of Cape Cod and home. Of course Mack had chosen to get married on the wrong coast, but it was still the ocean. He'd needed some fresh air, but he just kept walking. Mack was too much, everything was too much. He had almost made up his mind to request a transfer, fuck his career, fuck the Stanley cup. He couldn't function if he felt like this all the time. He stumbled onto the sand, and sat down just far away enough from the waves so they didn't get his feet wet, and he cried.
"… Will?" Mack's voice pulled him out of the haze he was in. He felt an all too familiar hand on his back and around his waist.
"I couldn't find you… someone said they thought they'd seen you wander out here so I came looking." Will cleared his throat, and tried to sound like he hadn't been crying. Not that he'd ever been able to hide anything from Mack, not really.
"Just needed some fresh air." He said, and it wasn't that much of a lie.
"Yeah. Me too." Mack sat himself down next to Will on the sand, and leant his head on Will's shoulder, sighing.
"Dude. You're going to ruin your wedding suit." Will laughed, and tried to move away from Mack, who only pulled him closer instead. Mack didn't say anything for a while, so Will enjoyed the closeness from him in peace for once.
"Do you think maybe when we're retired, things could be different?" Mack whispered, so quietly Will could barely hear him over the sound of the waves crashing at their feet.
"Is that your plan? Marry me in twenty years? Jesus Christ Mack. You've been married for half a day and you're already doing this?" Will shoved Mack away from him, and he fell back into the sand. His wedding shit would be ruined now and he'd have to explain to his new wife how he had sand in his hair.
"No of course not. I want you to be happy. It was just a thought, ok? I'm sorry Will. I'm so sorry." Mack stood up, brushing the sand off his suit. "I've got to go and get back to-" Will cut him off.
"Please. Go back to your new wife. I'll see you next season." Will spat at Mack, his words sounding more angry than he intended. Mack's face was hurt.
"Right. Next season. Ok. Text me yeah?"
Will ignored Mack, putting his head in his hands and not looking up until he was sure Mack was gone. This is what he'd been reduced to, a crying mess at his best friends wedding. If any fans could see him now, he'd probably be thrown off the team.
The worst thing was, he probably would wait for Mack. He probably could spend the next few decades of his life solely focused on playing brilliant hockey and winning cups, if it meant he could get Mack to himself at the end of it. Maybe that tiny, tiny pathetic slither of hope could be enough. Maybe it would have to be.