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“What’s that about?”
Derek looked across at Ransom, then followed his gaze, frowning when he saw April and March playing beer pong. Then he realized that Holster and Dex had sat down to talk just beyond the beer pong table.
Derek paused for a moment, considering if it was okay to answer honestly. “We’ve had NHL scouts. It’s, uh, getting to the point where we have to decide if we’re staying here for fourth year or not.”
“Shit.” Ransom looked impressed. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I think they’re starting to look at Samwell as one of the top colleges to try and pick from or something. Dex and I aren’t talking about it much. We don't want to affect each other’s decision.” His teeth worried at his lip. The reminder of next year's uncertainty got more and more stressful the closer to a decision he felt. The hiss of air next to him told him that Ransom could see some of his doubts, and the next thing Derek knew, he was being steered towards the stairs.
In Derek and Will's shared bedroom, they settled on the double which had replaced the bunk beds half a year earlier, and Derek stretched out so that he was staring at the ceiling. Ransom flopped onto his stomach and tilted his head to look at him.
“What's up?”
“It's stupid.”
“Isn't it always? Okay, start easy. Do you want to play NHL next year or stay here?”
“I want to play NHL, of course I do.”
“And you want Dex to do the same but he's not so sure?”
Derek squeezed his eyes shut. “No. No, I think he'd regret not doing that last year. I didn’t come here for the degree. I came for the college experience, and I can leave after three years knowing I got it. He came as the first person in his family to go to college. It was an effort for him to get here. You never know what might happen with hockey and realistically something could happen that first year before we've made enough to get by on, and I can shrug and live on my parents’ money and maybe write a book or some shit, but he— It would kill him.”
There was a long silence. “Well why the hell aren't you telling him you think that?”
“Because half the time we fight it's about money. And— And because this hits too close to our first ever fight. I applied for the scholarship even though I didn’t need it and he did. What if— What if it’s my privilege talking when I say I want to go into the NHL, but that’s not for him? At least not now. Isn’t it kind of fucked for me to want that success straight away, but want him to wait?”
Ransom pulled the toy frog he and Holster had gifted to them at graduation towards him and had what looked like a staring competition with it while he thought. “I’ve never known you and Dex to avoid fights,” he finally said. “You tell each other what you think, whether it’ll annoy the other one or not. That’s how you work.”
It was true. Derek so rarely told people what he really thought of them, but with Dex he always had, and in the end it had turned into a strange form of trust. Similarly, back in the beginning when Dex was trying to mold himself into somebody he wasn’t, it was only back in the confines and privacy of their shared dorm that he let himself open up, heart pouring out for Derek to see, to the point where they didn’t know how to function when they had to pretend not to know such things about each other. “This is different. This is our futures. Besides, it’s the sort of fight we couldn’t keep up here. It would affect the whole team.”
Ransom stiffened for a moment, and when their eyes crossed, Derek knew both of them were thinking about all those altercations between Ransom and Holster the year before. Making life decisions was difficult.
“Nursey, bro, the main thing is you want what’s best for him.” There was a crack in his voice which betrayed a hint of emotion at the acknowledgement that Holster had only ever wanted the same for him. “And when it comes to privilege- I mean, fuck, have you spent so much time teaching yourself about classism that you’ve forgotten that you playing in the NHL will automatically put you on a Wiki page of Black players in the League? And you'll literally be like the third person with desi heritage. Hockey’s so fucking white, Nursey. You can’t let an opportunity like this pass you by because you’re trying to cater to your white boyfriend’s feelings.”
Derek nodded. He knew that it was true, but forcing himself to make a decision without factoring Dex in seemed impossible.
“Way I see it, Nursey, not talking to each other is making this decision more difficult than if you were. What if he’s thinking the exact same thing but he thinks you want him to go with you?”
“That’s the other thing, though!” Derek said, sitting up. “What if we can’t do long-distance? We’ve been living together in the same fucking room as each other ever since the second time we ever met. It’s not even just since we’ve been together, it’s since before that. We don’t know each other apart. We just went from hating each other’s guts to— to—”
“To disgustingly domestic?”
“Whatever. But we did all of that while living together, and that summer we were apart was difficult enough and now we’re even closer and he’s my best friend and I don’t know how this would work. We don’t even—” His hand shook a little and he dug his fingernails into his palm as he tried to push the words out. “We probably have sex less than your average long-distance couple already.”
“Woah.” Ransom’s hand flew out and grabbed Derek’s, prising his fingers out of a fist. “That’s personal. You don’t need to tell me that.”
“But it’s relevant. What if we go all that time not seeing each other, and then when we do I’m not in the mood. Am I just supposed to expect him to be okay with that?”
“Dex knew what he was signing up for. If he really isn’t okay with that, he doesn’t deserve you, but I’m willing to bet Jack’s annual salary that he loves you, asexuality and all, and won’t begrudge it. Your relationship is way more than sex.” Derek knew he didn't look convinced, because Ransom let out a heavy sigh and continued. “Long-distance doesn’t work for everyone, right? But it does for some people, and you two— It’s up to you to make it work, eh? I know I’m the last person who should be giving advice on making it work considering my relationship couldn’t handle a move to Boston, but a lot of that was me not putting in the effort. I kept just thinking March and April have each other, so if I’m tired after another full day of med school, I don’t have to ring, or Holster’s got a game this weekend and it’s easier to get to that than it is to get to Samwell for their game, and what if I screw up his rituals by not being there? But if you put in the effort, and if you keep talking to each other, why shouldn’t you be able to manage it?”
Derek stared at a stain on the ceiling - the one which Holster insisted had been there before he moved into the attic, even though Ransom didn’t remember it being there to begin with despite it being right above where his top bunk had been. A long-distance relationship with Dex was incomprehensible to him after all this time of waking up next to him, and every time he tried to imagine it, doubts plagued his mind.
“Hey,” Ransom said softly, and Derek looked back at him. “This will be good for you. If you know you can get through this year, you can get through anything with him. If you can't, it's better to know now when you've both got a definite support system around and you'll have something to throw yourselves into. Otherwise, what? Five years down the line you've got kids to think about and you end up traded across the country from each other and realise that you actually don't know how to function apart?”
Derek nodded. “You're right. I know you are, it just makes me wonder why we have to change anything if we're happy.”
“Things change, bro, that's life. Don't turn down the opportunity to follow your dreams for love. Didn't La La Land teach you anything?”
“I didn't watch it.”
“Oh. Not everyone lives with Holster, eh?”
Derek snorted, but when he responded, it was with a sincere shrug. “He might be worth making new dreams for.”
“Nah, he isn't. Nobody's worth that unless they're willing to do anything they can to let you follow the ones you already have and if that's the case there's no point changing them. What difference does it really make doing it a year early? It's not like the odds of the same team signing you both is that great and it's probably lower signing the same year. You're allowed your own dream. You're allowed to want to give up on college for it and still think Dex should stick it out here. And he doesn't have to make his decision based on you thinking that but also you don't have to make your decision based on what Dex wants. Except you don't even know what he wants! You're just stressing over making sure he's happy and comfortable and please just think about why that's so fucked up.”
Derek’s breath hitched “I know. I know, okay. I'll talk to him. I'll tell him I'm doing it.”
“Good. You can fulfill my dream, too.”
When Derek looked over to see what Ransom meant, he was met with a mischievous grin. He narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“Well, I have a dream that one day—”
“Oh my God.”
“The Black boys and girls can play hockey with the white boys and girls.”
“That's already a thing.”
Ransom carried on as if Derek hadn’t said anything. “And I have a dream—”
“Are you really doing this, you absolute nerd?”
“That one day the Atlanta Thrashers won't be accused of reverse racism for hiring Black players.”
“Pretty difficult seeing as they aren't a team anymore.”
“But also that they won't only hire Black players to give themselves a particular fan-base.”
“Are you done?”
He grinned. “I don't know, are you convinced?”
Derek pushed himself off the bed. “Honestly, I'll do it. You're right. I have to do this; it's not an opportunity I can miss, and I want to do it now, not in a year when it'll just feel like wasting time.”
Ransom jumped up to hit him on the back. “Look at my little frog, all grown up and mature and ready to face the world.”
“You're so embarrassing,” Derek muttered as they started back down the stairs to rejoin the kegster. “Uh, but thanks.”
“Any time, bro. I mean that. You've got my number.”
They sidled up to Holster and Dex who each silently demanded if everything was okay. Derek swung himself up to sit on the arm of Dex’s chair, and placed his feet in his lap. The look Dex gave him said ‘we need to talk,’ but his fingers were gentle and reassuring as he ran them up Derek’s calves. Hopefully, they were on the same page.