Blake looks away.
“Gonna fuckin’ make me cry,” Mattie says and waddles away, giving Brammer a shove when he passes him.
Brammer splutters and falls silent halfway through his rendition of ‘Let It Go’. Half the room applauds and Mattie salutes them before he ducks out of the room. Blake can see it on the guys’ faces, the exact way he feels, thinking about not having Mattie around anymore next year. He’s the oldest guy on the roster right now, the rest of the team relatively young. They’re down to a handful of guys who were already here when Blake played his first full season with the team.
There are tons of signs for Mattie pressed against the glass during warmups, and Mattie’s out there throwing pucks to people. Blake doesn’t know what to do with himself. Mattie told him he wasn’t going to keep playing. Blake knew and it still hurts. So much for seeing it coming.
He hasn’t announced it officially yet, but whenever Mattie talked to the media, questions came up, about Mattie’s contract, about his plans, and every time Mattie said that now was not the time to worry about that, but the media drew their conclusions and most of them hit the nail on the head – Jake Matthews is likely to retire at the end of the season.
The game itself is actually fun once Blake manages to focus and gets his head in the game, his eyes on the ice, on the puck.
He doesn’t think about getting into the first seed.
He doesn’t think about which team they’ll end up facing in the first round, if it’ll be the Eagles or the Ravens.
He doesn’t think about Elliot.
He doesn’t think about winning the Cup for Mattie.
He thinks about the puck.
The arena is loud tonight, the fans excited for the playoffs, not caring whether the Knights will end up in the first or second seed. They’ll have home ice either way. They’ll be back here soon and then the real fight begins.
Blake is vaguely aware of the fans chanting his name when he makes save after save, the scoreboard showing two goals in the Knights’ favor at the end of the second period. No goals for Ottawa.
They pull their goalie with two minutes left in the game and things get heated around Blake’s net. Ottawa is so far out of playoff contention that a win would do absolutely nothing for them, but they have some fight left in them. Players get tangled up, Blake ends up with some room in front of the net and the puck on his stick and he hurls it out of the zone with as much force as he can.
He doesn’t mean to score a goal. He’s tried before, but it never went in and he’s pretty sure that the angle’s off.
Everyone starts racing after the puck, but no one manages to catch up with it before it slides into the net. A few inches to the left and it would have gone right past it.
Charlie jumps into Blake’s arms when the goal horn goes, the rest of the guys not far behind. He gets first star of the game and the crowd is losing it. Blake has never seen that many people still in the stands after a game. He’s dead-tired, but after he’s done his interview, he sticks around to sign some jerseys, bump some fists, and then disappears down the tunnel where the team is waiting for him, everyone shouting as he waddles into the locker room.
It’s Mattie who hands him his puck, and they take a picture together, and afterwards Blake hugs him very, very tightly and tries very, very hard not to cry.
As they’re all getting out of their gear, someone announces that the Cardinals lost their game tonight, which means the Knights will see the Ravens next week. Blake wonders if Elliot already knows. He doesn’t have time to check his phone, because he has to talk to the media tonight. He probably would have had to talk to them even without the goal. He got a shutout on top of it all, so they’re all crowding around him, forcing Mattie and Charlie out of their stalls.
The questions aren’t that hard to deal with, mostly because they’re all about the goal. Blake wishes he’d had a chance to watch a replay of it, because he barely even remembers how it happened. He tried to get it away from his net, he wasn’t exactly planning on putting it in the other one.
They all go out for drinks after the game and invade one of their favorite pubs. They seem to have known that they were coming, probably because Paulie called ahead. Mattie goes out with them tonight as well, usually one of the first ones to beg off, and he buys Blake his first drink.
A lot of people want to buy Blake drinks tonight.
He tries not to overdo it, starts to politely decline more offers, and has to start declining other offers, too, when Brammer’s girlfriend and her friends arrive, three of them crowding around him to ask him about the goal he scored. Blake manages to escape and basically hides behind Mattie, who’s actually an inch shorter than him.
“You wanna go home, kid?” Mattie asks. “I’ll sneak you out.”
A bunch of the guys have left and Blake wasn’t planning on sticking around much longer either, so he nods.
“Choo Choo already left, huh? Need a ride home?”
“Yeah, thanks, Mattie,” Blake says.
Mattie rarely has more than one beer and is happy to drive home anyone who needs a ride. He’s looking around the bar now to see if anyone else might need a ride, but most of the guys that are left don’t live too far from the arena. Anyway, they can easily afford a cab.
“Mattie,” Blake says when they’re in the car.
“If you say anything sappy, I’ll make you walk,” Mattie says, grinning as he starts the car. “I haven’t retired yet.”
“I know.”
“It’s time, kid.”
Blake nods.
They drive in silence, the radio turned down so low that Blake can barely hear it. The streets are mostly quiet.
Something’s ending right now, it’s been ending all season. He wants to ask Mattie if he’ll stay in the area of if he’ll take his family to Canada, but decides that he’s not ready to hear the answer to that, if Mattie even has one.
The drive to his place is short, only takes a few minutes. Mattie pulls over outside the door and gives Blake’s thigh a pat. “Nice goal tonight, kid. You’ll remember that one for a while.”
Blake smiles. “Yeah.” He doesn’t get out of the car yet. There’s something strange about tonight, like nothing’s the way it’s supposed to be. “Mattie…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m gay.” Blake takes a deep breath. It helps that he’s managed to convince himself that Mattie probably already knew. “You probably guessed that already, but…”
“Listen, kid, your private life isn’t any of my business. I wasn’t guessing.”
“Really?”
“I’ve been around a little longer than you and you’re not the first guy who’s never brought a girlfriend and who looked like he wanted to go into hiding whenever anyone asked, so…” Mattie shrugs, then reaches out to put his hand on Blake’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to think that anything changed here. I’m still me and you’re still you, and you should come over for dinner tomorrow.”
Blake desperately wants to ask about the other guys, but Mattie would never tell him. In the end, he just says okay to dinner.
“If you have a boyfriend,” Mattie says, “he’s always welcome at my house, too.”
Blake clears his throat. “No boyfriend.”
“It’s not an offer that expires,” Mattie says.
“Thank you,” Blake replies, and tries not to think about showing up for dinner at Mattie’s house with Elliot in tow.
#
Elliot and Blake agree that for the duration of the first round of the playoffs, they’re not friends. They won’t talk to each other. No chirping, not even unrelated cat and food pictures. Nothing.
They’ll go dead silent.
The day before the game, they send each other good luck texts. And that’s it.
Elliot can barely focus before their first game against the Knights. It’s the same thing every year. Once playoffs roll around, it’s like he’s playing hockey for the first time.
Their
first game goes into overtime and the Knights win it, the arena exploding in cheers as the Ravens make their way off the ice. It’s only one game and it’s not over until they’ve lost four, but the room is quiet after the game and Elliot isn’t in the mood for post-game interviews at all.
One of the reporters asks him how he’s feeling about the loss and Elliot stares at him for a few long seconds before he says, “Not great.”
When he gets home that night he’s still pissed off. He texts Blake, because he doesn’t give a shit about the deal they made the day before and Blake sends back a sad face no five minutes later. Elliot almost calls him, but can’t think of a thing to say, because he lost against Blake’s team and how the hell is Blake supposed to cheer him up? Blake is probably busy celebrating right now. Elliot nearly scored on him in overtime, but he made the save, allowing Paul Mooney to grab the rebound and take off with it. The game was over less than a minute later.
They play in Newark again two days later. Another loss, this one a lot clearer. It’s a 4-1 win for the Knights, the Ravens’ lone goal scored by Andreas.
And yet, nothing’s decided. They’ll play in New York next, two games on home ice and they have a chance to tie up the series again, win two at home, take it to Game 5. After the game, Blake has already sent him a sad face and Elliot sends a sad face back, because he has nothing else to say anyway. He wishes he could go home and have Blake waiting for him in bed, curl against him, have Blake hold him close.
Elliot’s bed is cold when he curls himself into a ball under the covers. He barely sleeps that night, wakes up every so often and stares into the darkness of his room.
The guys are exhausted when he sees them for their next morning skate. Everyone’s tired, the look on Coach Peterson’s face is grim. Elliot doesn’t expect him to be around next season if the Ravens don’t make it far into the playoffs. He’s scared to think about what their roster will look like.
Elliot tells himself to get it together. They’ve lost two games. It’s not like they’ve lost it all.
They fight hard during Game 3.
They still lose.
It’s not the first time they’ve been here, looking a sweep in the eye.
Elliot sits in his stall, with half his gear still on, long after the reporters have dispersed. There’s barely a chance of coming back from this. Maybe they’ll manage to win the next game. Maybe they’ll even manage to win two. But four? It’s not impossible, but the entire room knows that it’s unlikely. All they can do the day after tomorrow is to play like they haven’t already lost.
He gets home late, exhausted.
When he checks his phone, he has a missed call from Blake and a voicemail. Elliot crawls into bed without listening to it, closes his eyes, but doesn’t fall asleep. He finally grabs his phone and listens to Blake’s message after all.
“Hey, uh, it’s Blake,” he says, “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me right now and we’re not even friends until all of this is over, but… I don’t know, you looked… I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You don’t deserve this. You’re such a pain in the ass to play against, you know? I don’t… Well, you don’t need me to tell you that this sucks… Anyway. I probably shouldn’t have called. And I’m sorry. I… I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”
Elliot sighs. Something heavy is sitting on his chest, something restless is living under his skin.
He is so, so tired.
It’s a clean sweep in the end.
Elliot scores twice in Game 4, Andreas scores, Crab scores, but the Knights are always one goal ahead of them and eventually the clock runs down and leaves them with a score of 5-4, the Ravens eliminated from the playoffs, the Knights celebrating on the other end of the ice, crowding around Blake.
Elliot starts to lead the handshake line. They want to get off the ice. Elliot puts an arm around Crab while they wait for Brian Kelly to lead the Knights their way.
Kelly hugs Elliot, tells him they fought hard, that he could tell that Elliot did everything in his power to drag his team to the next round. Elliot tells him to win it all. They’d all rather lose to the team that ends up winning the Cup than to a team that’ll get eliminated during the next round. Kelly smiles at him, pats his head and sends him on his way.
Elliot dreads making it to Blake, not sure if he should shake his hand or hug him. Blake takes the decision away from him, because he’s the one who goes in for a hug in the end. They say something meaningless. A few more players, coaches, then Elliot can finally get off the ice.
Elliot is pretty sure that Crab is close to tears, probably blaming himself for the last goal the Knights scored. Elliot goes and hugs him tightly, then he makes his way over to Swanson, to give his shoulder a squeeze. Swanson scowls.
The post-game interviews are torture, as they’ve been for the entire postseason. Nothing new there. It’s all, yes, of course they’re not happy with this outcome, and, yes, everyone fought hard and, yes, Elliot is still proud of every single player on his team, but the Knights outplayed them in the end.
He stays in the shower for a long time, goes home, goes to bed, on edge, like his brain hasn’t caught up with what happened and still thinks they’ll play another game a few days from now.
They have the next day off and Elliot invites the team out for brunch at a place they sometimes go to after practice. Elliot calls them, his name enough to get them a private room on short notice without any problems.
The next day they have exit interviews, locker room clean-out. Adam invites him over for dinner. “You know, in a week or something. When we’ve got most of the moping out of the way.”
Elliot nods and shuffles away to hug the guys that are leaving town soon – Crab, who’s going to his parents’ place in Halifax, and Andreas, who’ll go to Germany for the summer.
He’s still at the Ravens’ practice facility when he gets a call from Team USA, asking if he’s interested in playing at the World Cup. He says yes without even thinking about it. He’s not done with hockey this season.
Gear in his trunk, Elliot sits in the driver’s seat, staring down at his phone. He thinks about calling Blake.
The Knights have some time off now, because whoever will be their opponent in the next round isn’t decided yet. The Cardinals-Eagles series is tied at two, so they’ll play at least two more games. Blake is probably home.
Elliot should call Blake before he goes all the way to fucking Newark.
He doesn’t. He just starts driving.
#
Blake is taking a nap with Squid when his doorbell rings. It’s the middle of the afternoon. When Blake fell asleep the sun was shining, now it’s pouring down rain.
He gets up, makes sure he doesn’t look too rumpled, in case it’s anyone other than Charlie outside his door, and then shuffles into the hallway.
It’s not Charlie outside his door. He should have known, because Charlie knocks.
It’s Elliot.
And he’s dripping.
“You’re all wet,” Blake says.
“It’s raining,” Elliot replies.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Blake looks at him, at the Ravens shirt plastered to his chest and the dripping curls sticking to his forehead. He looks absolutely miserable.
“I’m sorry,” Elliot says, “Some guy who felt bad for me let me in through the front door and I guess I should have called, but I was scared that you’d tell me not to come and–”
“Hey,” Blake says and tugs Elliot into his apartment. “It’s fine.”
Elliot nods, breath catching when Blake pulls him into a hug. Blake’s shirt is getting wet now, too, but he doesn’t let go for at least a few minutes. Elliot clearly needs this hug, has probably needed it ever since they lost the first game against the Knights.
Blake doesn’t say he’s sorry, because Elliot likely wouldn’t want to hear it anyway.
“Here, let’s…” Blake gently pats Elliot’s back. “Let’s find you somethin
g dry to wear and I’ll throw your stuff in the dryer. Did you walk here from the station?”
“No, I parked my car in the parking garage down the street and I didn’t have an umbrella,” Elliot mutters as he takes off his shoes.
Blake finds him a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and then gets a shirt for himself, too, because he didn’t stay dry when he hugged Elliot either.
“You want anything to eat?” Blake asks as he wanders out of his bedroom, because he’d rather not hover next to Elliot while he’s changing.
“No.”
“Water? Or a beer?”
“What time is it?”
“Not sure if that matters today,” Blake says.
“Water is fine.” Elliot comes out of Blake’s bedroom, tugging at the shirt Blake gave him, a little big on him, and Blake instantly wants to pull him in again. He leads the way into the kitchen instead.
“Ice cream?” Blake asks.
Elliot hesitates for a moment. “I guess…”
Blake nods at the freezer. “Get whatever you want.”
Elliot grabs a pint of Phish Food and a big spoon while Blake grabs them two glasses of water.
“What do you wanna do?” Blake asks.
The look Elliot shoots him is probing. “Movie?”
“Okay.”
“Can I…”
“What?” Blake asks.
Elliot shakes his head.
“What?” Blake asks again. Today Elliot can have whatever the hell he wants and Elliot probably knows that. There’s no way Blake will say no to a single thing.
“I don’t wanna go back home.”
Blake nods. Elliot can stay. Hell, he can stay for a week.
“Really?” Elliot asks.
“We have practice tomorrow, but you can stay as long as you want.”
“I’ll make you breakfast,” Elliot says.
“You don’t have to,” Blake mumbles and sits down in his favorite corner on the couch, Elliot next to him, right there, not even pretending that he’s trying to leave some space between them.
Elliot picks a movie they’ve both seen a million times, then glances at Blake, glances at the TV, then back at Blake.
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