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The rink was almost completely empty by the time Matthew stepped onto the ice.
The overhead lights cast a soft glow across the freshly resurfaced rink, making the ice shine beneath his skates. Somewhere in the distance, a ventilation system hummed quietly, but otherwise the arena was peaceful. The usual noise of spectators, whistles, and skates scraping against the ice had disappeared hours ago.
Matthew preferred it this way.
There was something comforting about having the rink to himself. No crowds. No distractions. Just the ice, the puck, and enough space to practice until his legs gave out.
Unfortunately, he wasn't alone.
"You are going too slowly."
Matthew stopped near the blue line and looked over his shoulder.
Ivan stood several meters away, casually leaning against his hockey stick. His expression was relaxed, almost amused, as if he hadn't just spent the past twenty minutes criticizing practically everything Matthew did.
Matthew sighed. "I'm warming up."
"You have been warming up for twenty minutes."
"Exactly. I'm still warming up."
Ivan's mouth curved into a small smile. He pushed away from the boards and glided toward him, his movements effortless. "Perhaps you should warm up faster."
Matthew narrowed his eyes.
"Ivan."
"Yes?"
"You're annoying."
"I have been told this before."
Matthew rolled his eyes and pushed off, sending himself smoothly across the ice. He caught the puck with his stick and began weaving it between a series of cones they'd placed along the rink. His movements were quick and controlled, each turn sharper than the last.
Behind him, Ivan followed.
Matthew could hear the faint scrape of Ivan's skates approaching.
He sped up.
So did Ivan.
Matthew glanced over his shoulder and immediately regretted it. Ivan was grinning.
"You are trying to escape?"
"No."
"Then why are you going faster?"
"Because I can."
Ivan laughed quietly.
Matthew turned his attention back to the puck and flicked it around the final cone. He pivoted sharply, accelerating toward the goal.
For a moment, everything seemed to fall perfectly into place.
The puck stayed close to his stick. His balance was steady. His feet moved almost automatically beneath him.
He raised his stick.
Ivan's shadow crossed the ice beside him.
Matthew shot.
The puck flew toward the net.
Ivan's stick snapped downward.
The puck ricocheted away.
Matthew groaned.
"Oh, come on!"
Ivan caught the puck against the blade of his stick and looked at him innocently. "What?"
"You blocked it."
"That is generally what defensemen do."
"I was supposed to score."
"Yes."
"So let me."
Ivan shrugged. "Try again."
Matthew stared at him.
"You enjoy this."
"Very much."
Matthew shook his head, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling.
He chased after the puck.
They continued like that for nearly an hour.
Every time Matthew found an opening, Ivan closed it. Every time Ivan managed to steal the puck, Matthew chased him down and attempted to take it back. Their competition gradually became less about actually practicing and more about seeing who could annoy the other first.
Matthew eventually managed to steal the puck from Ivan with a quick turn, immediately taking off toward the goal.
Ivan followed.
Matthew could hear him behind him.
Closer.
Closer.
He pushed harder.
His legs burned, but he refused to slow down. He cut sharply to the left, catching Ivan off guard for half a second.
That was all he needed.
Matthew shot.
The puck slammed into the back of the net.
"Yes!"
He threw both arms into the air, nearly losing his balance in the process. He caught himself at the last second and turned toward Ivan with an enormous grin.
Ivan stopped near the goal and stared at him.
Matthew waited.
Ivan slowly began clapping.
"Congratulations."
Matthew laughed. "You sound disappointed."
"I am devastated."
"You don't look devastated."
"I am hiding my pain."
Matthew skated closer, resting both hands on the top of his stick. "You know, you could just admit I scored."
"I already admitted it."
"Say it again."
Ivan raised an eyebrow.
"You scored."
Matthew grinned.
"Thank you."
Ivan shook his head, laughing under his breath.
"Do not become too confident."
"Too late."
Matthew turned away, still smiling.
He didn't notice the fond look Ivan gave him before following.
They continued playing until Matthew's legs began to ache enough that even he knew it was time to stop. He skated toward the boards and leaned against them, breathing heavily as he pushed his damp hair away from his forehead.
Ivan came to a stop beside him.
"You are getting better."
Matthew looked up.
There was no teasing in Ivan's voice this time.
"Really?"
Ivan nodded.
"Really."
Matthew's expression brightened.
"You're not just saying that?"
"I would not lie about hockey."
Matthew laughed softly. "That's probably the most serious thing you've ever said."
Ivan ignored the comment and reached toward him instead.
Matthew blinked when Ivan carefully straightened the collar of his jersey, which had twisted beneath his shoulder pads.
"What are you doing?"
"You looked uncomfortable."
"I was fine."
"You were not."
Ivan smoothed the fabric down before stepping back.
Matthew stared at him for a second.
Then he smiled.
"You're kind of nice sometimes."
Ivan looked offended.
"Sometimes?"
"Sometimes."
"How cruel."
Matthew laughed and pushed away from the boards.
They skated slowly toward the bench, no longer racing. Their sticks rested loosely in their hands as they moved side by side, the sound of their skates much quieter now.
Matthew glanced over at Ivan.
"I like playing hockey with you."
Ivan looked at him.
Matthew immediately became interested in the ice.
"It's fun," he added.
"I like playing with you too."
Matthew looked up.
Ivan was smiling.
"You are very competitive."
Matthew scoffed. "I'm not competitive."
"You just spent twenty minutes trying to steal the puck from me."
"That's different."
"How?"
Matthew opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Ivan's smile widened.
"Exactly."
Matthew bumped his shoulder against Ivan's.
"Shut up."
Ivan laughed.
After they left the ice, they changed out of their skates and gathered their equipment. Matthew reached for his hockey bag, but Ivan picked it up first.
"Hey."
Ivan looked over.
"I can carry that."
"I know."
"Then give it back."
Ivan adjusted the strap over his shoulder.
"No."
Matthew frowned. "Why?"
"Because you are tired."
"I'm not that tired."
Ivan gave him a skeptical look.
Matthew crossed his arms.
"I can carry my own bag."
"I know you can."
There was something unexpectedly gentle about the way Ivan said it.
He wasn't treating Matthew like he was incapable. He knew Matthew could carry his equipment. He knew Matthew could take care of himself.
He simply wanted to help.
Matthew's expression softened.
"...Thanks."
Ivan nodded.
"You're welcome."
They walked out of the arena together.
The evening air was cool against Matthew's face, and he breathed deeply, enjoying the quiet after spending so long inside the rink. The sky above them had faded into shades of purple and blue, and the streetlights illuminated the sidewalk ahead.
Matthew walked beside Ivan, occasionally bumping shoulders with him.
After several minutes, he spoke.
"Are you hungry?"
"Yes."
"There's a diner nearby."
"Do they have pancakes?"
Matthew smiled. "Probably."
"Then we should go."
The diner wasn't very busy. They found a booth near the window and slid into opposite sides, leaving their hockey bags beside them.
Matthew ordered pancakes almost immediately.
Ivan ordered considerably more food.
Matthew stared at the amount.
"Are you seriously going to eat all of that?"
Ivan looked at his plate.
"Yes."
"You just played hockey for two hours."
"Exactly."
Matthew shook his head, smiling.
While they waited for their food, the conversation drifted from hockey to everything else. They talked about upcoming meetings, food, travel, and several ridiculous things that had happened during the week.
Eventually, Matthew leaned his chin into his hand.
"I want a rematch."
Ivan looked up from his drink.
"Already?"
"Yes."
"You lost."
"That's why I want one."
Ivan smiled.
"Tomorrow."
Matthew's eyes lit up.
"Tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Same rink?"
"Same rink."
Matthew grinned. "And no holding back."
Ivan tilted his head.
"I never hold back."
"You're lying."
"I am not."
"You definitely were last time."
Ivan laughed. "Perhaps."
Matthew pointed at him accusingly.
"I knew it."
Their food arrived, and Matthew immediately began eating.
For the rest of the evening, the competition was forgotten.
They talked.
They laughed.
They argued about which hockey teams were better, despite both of them already knowing neither was going to convince the other.
By the time they left the diner, the streets were quiet.
Matthew stopped outside and looked toward Ivan.
"Same time tomorrow?"
Ivan nodded.
"Same time."
"Don't be late."
"I am never late."
"You were late today."
"Three minutes."
"That counts."
Ivan smiled.
Matthew started walking away, his hands tucked into his pockets.
He had made it several steps before hearing Ivan call his name.
"Matthew."
He turned around.
Ivan was standing beneath the diner lights, holding both hockey bags over one shoulder.
"What?"
Ivan lifted a hand.
"Goodnight."
Matthew smiled.
"Goodnight, Ivan."
He turned away again.
Then Ivan spoke once more.
"Matthew."
Matthew looked back.
Ivan's smile had turned almost mischievous.
"Next time, I will let you score twice."
Matthew stared at him.
Then his eyes narrowed.
"Oh, you're dead tomorrow."
Ivan laughed.
Matthew walked away with a grin he couldn't hide.
Tomorrow, there would be another game.
Another competition.
Another chance to finally beat Ivan.
And, perhaps, another excuse to spend the afternoon together.
For now, that was enough.