Do or Die

          there’s a moment when will thinks nic is going to kiss him, right then and there in the locker room — and he doesn’t know whether or not to panic. ( but oh, he’d be lying if he said that tone didn’t tie his guts into knots, and that LOOK —- extra space between them or not, that could haunt his dreams ). fortunately, nic pulls away as quickly, his back providing will with the cover he needs to remind himself to breathe again.

          he follows nic out much more slowly, a half-empty water bottle turning in his hands. he knows better than to protest that he can carry his own bag — nic's STUBBORNNESS could rival his own ; and maybe the small gesture did make him feel WARM, cared for ( mulling over the past ten days — how LONG had it been since he’d felt that way ; had he EVER ?? ). thankfully, henri pulls him out of his racing thoughts, a conversation in some frankenstein combination of english and finnish has his brain thankfully busy that by the time they say goodbye for the season and he’s climbing into nic’s jeep, he feels much more CENTERED.

          his gaze eyes the line of fans with some small bit of trepidation — this had always been the part of it he was WORST at. he knows he ought to though, considering his healing injury and lack of face. one small line and then he can disappear for an entire summer.      “ yeah —– "      he says softly, looking over at nic in the driver’s seat, the smallest of smiles pulling at the corner of his mouth.      ” —– then DUMPLINGS. “

“ and it’s my treat “ nic starts the engine before will can offer a rebuttal. for a moment all that’s heard is the rumble of nic’s jeep as the two players make their way out of the parking facility. nic’s features settle into a content smile and warm eyes as they greet the small crowd of people still hoping for autographs and photos. a young boy — no older than nine — is hanging back a little from the handful of people that have walked up to nic’s door. nic keeps his responses short — but polite — until everyone gets want they want. it’s after everyone leaves from both sides of the jeep that nic finally speaks to the kid. “ hey buddy. i think i’ve one more signature left in this hand. “ he waves the boy over — his smile actually reaching his eyes as the boy lights up with excitement. “ what your name, bud? “ 

kyle was an eight year old center for a youth team in the area. something about the kid hit a cord with nic and soon they were taking a couple pictures and nic was fishing a stick and personalized devils shirt from his equipment bag. after a couple more signatures and many thank yous from kyles mom, nic finally pulled away and turned out of the complex in the direction of their favorite dumpling spot. “ hopefully we see him again next season. “ 

          will has known nic long enough to be familiar with the way he goes after things — seen in him in ACTION at cornell, in their brief crossing of paths when they both went pro, and yes, in the weeks after the trade. it was something he envied sometimes : the way nic could be so sure in exactly what he WANTED. but it is very much one thing to be witness and another to suddenly become the subject.

          his smile wavers. it’s hard not to be hyper aware of every slice of air between them, to realize how few there really are — how EASY it would be to shatter them to nothing. but impulsiveness isn’t a trait will has. teeth sink into the inside of his bottom lip, a point of discomfort like the ache in his side that has yet to really go away.      “ nic —– "      he means it as a warning, even if it’s quieter than intended. there’s a hand planted against nic’s chest to force space between them, though the brutal pounding of his heart against his ribs has nothing to do with panic.

          there’s a pause, will swallows once, hard. gets a hold of himself.      ” —— is that supposed to make me what to come ? “      he’s seen nic shirtless ( and MORE ) more times than he can count ; modesty in the life of an athlete is SLIM. so there’s no reason for the statement to affect him. this is really nothing new, he knows, and he’s got thicker skin than meets the eye, but it’s all about intention. it’d been easier to laugh things off when he’d been sure the intention was merely joking — but NOW, the stakes have changed. nic had been easy to WANT then, maybe, in his unattainability. in a way, that’d made him safe. this before him now though is ANYTHING but safe. ( and he’s definitely not thinking about nic shirtless ).

even through the cotton material of nic’s shirt the shot of electricity from will’s touch causes nic’s eyes to flutter — momentarily — before he takes a step back and lowers his voice to a rough whisper. “ it just might. “ his eyes darken as he looks into will’s eyes with a quick wink and chuckle before he turns to leave the room — will’s bag on his shoulder and his own in the other hand. 

( what he doesn’t show is how fast his heart is racing at the pictures that just ran through his mind ) 

“ let’s head out, i haven’t eaten since breakfast at the cafe. “ nic step through the swinging door — holding it open for will. “ and i am craving dumplings. “ they make they’re way through the winding corridors of the prudential center. after a few stops to say final goodbyes — nic couldn’t help but made a few post-season workout plans with a few of the guys— the duo find their way to nic’s jeep. 

          they go relatively easy on him for his portion of locker clean out — part because he’s still in recovery, part because he doesn’t have an a and certainly not the c, after all. he doesn’t have all the answers ( no one does, but it’s too much to hope that they’ll realize that ). instead, he fields the typical ones about his recovery from his injury, blandly skirts the topic of nic’s fight ( “ yeah, that’s just hockey — we’re all a team ; believe it or not i’d do the same ”  — with probably less impressive results. ), before richie rescues him from the pressing ring of recorders and phones to poke at him.

          he’d gone early in the interview lineup so he could get checked over, so by the time he’s released back to his own devices and re-enters the locker room, it’s the first he’s seen of nic since they were split ways upon arriving. he puts his hands in the pocket of his hoodie ( his actual own hoodie, number 21 and all ), because part of him still instinctively wants to reach out, even though he’s been perfectly clear-headed for a few days now. even with the media cleared out, there are some things that don’t fit here.

          “ everything’s healing fine — just need more time ; luckily there’s plenty of that. though i’m pretty sure he’s about two seconds away from sending you FLOWERS right after he sends some to mike for TRADING for you. something about me probably DYING otherwise —— which is definitely an overstatement. "      or maybe not. who’s to say now. will rolls his eyes, though his tone is as FOND as the smile curved across his face,      ” i told you i’ll be FINE. you sure it’s not you who won’t take no for an answer ? “     it’s a joke but there’s weight to the words, no matter how lighthearted they may sound. will hasn’t forgotten confessions in his kitchen at DAWN — how could he ?

nic watches will — fingers twitching to reach out and experience the addicting burn again— but even with the locker room empty nic’s not going to push that. “ richie’s already told me he’ll but my all my coffee during training camp. “ watching the smile fall upon will’s face makes nic’s heart jump. luckily, an intern pops into the room to clean up after the reporters — which draws nic’s attention away from will momentarily; but will’s next words pull him back in. ( anything will say pulls nic back in nowadays ) 

“ what can i say — “ nic shrugs while shifting closer to will as the only person in the room with them leaves. “ i’m my mother’s son. “ his voice is a rough whisper as he hoists will’s equipment bag onto his shoulders. he doesn’t see will’s reaction because he walks away to grab his own bag. 

“ how can you say no to free food and summer sun “ the smile across nic’s face probably resembles the chesire cat at this point. he knows he shouldn’t push it. he knows that will isn’t ready to admit anything — but nic also knows that his favorite hoodie went missing around the time of will’s injury. he steps closer to will again — this time their mouths meres millimeters apart. “ and i’m gonna be shirtless pretty much the entire stay. “ 

“ you know —  i’m just excited to come back next season and really get the chance to play with these guys. even in the few months i’ve been here — well —  i can really see the potential. “ nic spits out the same script his the pr team had drawn up for him. he’d been put on interview duty for the remainder of the season thanks to his antics when will got injured. thankfully, this was the final day of media for the season — their locker room clean out. 

nic knew the typical questions that were asked at this type of thing — what he didn’t expect was the onslaught of questions about being reunited with his college line mate. he made sure to keep his answers generic. 

of course it’s great — cant wait to play a full season with him again — i’d protect any of my teammates in the same way

that last one was, of course, a lie. 

          he wanted to run because it was easier than facing this. the truth is hard and unforgiving, just like emotions. he heard once, that true lo– caring is pushing when you know it’s right ; what does it mean then, when nic stays gentle, bandages in hand, telling him not to run away. ( you know, says some small voice in the back of his mind. you know ).

          nic has given him a lot to think about, when his head isn’t exactly in the best shape for thinking about it. maybe that’s the problem, though : he thinks too much about everything, every action, every word – hockey was the only thing that ever felt like instinct, as easy as breathing. even when breathing isn’t so easy right now. MAYBE there’s something to be said about the wordless connection they have on the ice, the one place will doesn’t need to think.

          nic’s hand is a warm line across his jaw, grounding in its touch even as it demands his gaze meets nic’s. he feels like an open wound thrown wide open, stinging, sensitive, burning. the look in nic’s eyes is honest, sincere ; will can tell as much and he breaks first, gaze flickering down. whoever said eyes were the window to the soul was probably right. he’d hate to know what nic sees in his. hesitation, fear, the sheen of tears yet not shed ( he can’t even remember the last time anyone looked at him like that ).

          “ i know —- ” he says finally, voice quiet, almost too quiet. one hand trails over the back of nic’s hesitantly before fingers loosely encircle his wrist, more resting there than with any urge to remove it. the opposite is true : he WANTS nic’s hands on him in their grounding warmth, his body solid against his. that really seems to be the only clear thing anymore, as clear now as it had been last night ; the desires and the murky meanings behind them he doesn’t want to untangle.

          he leans into this one this time, shifting, stepping into nic’s space, motions almost hesitant before he draws him into a hug. he can still smell the coffee clinging to nic’s hoodie, the bridge of his nose brushing against nic’s neck as he buries his face there. “ i’m sorry, ” he says again, even though this time he’s not entirely sure why. fingers curl into the fabric of nic’s sweatshirt, will suddenly loath to let go.

nic can’t help the swell of emotion from the small victory that is will not leaving. his eyes land on will’s hand as it grasps his own wrist. he expects will to move his hand away — but he doesn’t — something about that small gesture let’s nic know that he’s not reading this whole situation wrong ( its also making him want to prove to will that he is worth it ).  but before he can say anything, will buries himself against nics chest. he can feel will’s hands clutching at the soft fabric of his team hoodie — can feel the burning sensation of their touch shift to his neck as will nestles against his bare skin 

( its almost like will was meant to fit exactly right there ) 

nic brings his arms around will — into an all encompassing sense of protection  — letting his unwrapped hand cradle the back of his head while his thumb rubs comfortably at his hair line. “ don’t be sorry. “ 

          “ nic — ” it comes out like a warning, a reflex of a syllable rolling off his tongue. the edge of the counter digs into his back, his ribs hurt, his chest hurts, the room is spinning again : not all those things are directly related. the world is so narrow, collapsing around him until it’s just the grip of nic’s hand and nic’s eyes on his. he feels like he does sinking into an ice bath, that first shock of cold that knocks the breath from his lungs. but maybe that’s not even right ; he expects that stepping into frigid water — this, this is so wholly unexpected it leaves him floundering.

          his gaze drops to their linked hands – that’s easier than facing what’s in nic’s eyes ( but he wants to, part of him still desperately WANTS and never truly stopped from the day he met nic and got stuck in his gravity ). his hand reflexively closes around nic’s ; it could feel PERFECT if he could let it. the sight triggers another memory to surface from the haze :

                                  ’ don’t go ’                                                                              ’ i’m not going anywhere ’

                                               —- the comforting warmth of nic                                                      next to him in his bed.

                                          ( he’d asked him to STAY, and he had ).

          he knows what this is, what this MEANS. will’s been a lot of things ; stupid isn’t one of them, afraid is. part of him wants it to not be what it is, because if it is that means facing things he doesn’t want to. love is —- something he avoids. alexia had been the exception at cornell and the last. it’s fear ; fear and memories of his childhood that have never ceased to plague him ; memories of feeling too hard to LOVE so why bother at all. ( and yet, part of him leaps at the confession — is that not what he’s wanted for years ? he’d never admitted that to himself, even now, refuses to admit that to himself ). ————– at least nic hadn’t outright said it.

          but there are undeniable truths too : nic is important to him too, the kind of all-encompassing importance he refuses to put into words. will doesn’t want to lose him either ; that’s what it’d been about too the other night, right ? that fear of another trade, empty apartments and empty beds when nic had just come back into his life. even those couple weeks in stoney silence had felt like eternity ; LONELY despite their proximity.

          will swallows, still avoiding nic’s gaze. the temptation to duck and run rises inside him, but he can’t back up any further, can’t get nic’s words out of his head. ( you are the most important person in my life ). you are too, he wants to say. what’s stopping him ? his free hand moves upward to fiddle with the collar of the hoodie nic’s wearing, the fabric soft between his fingers before his hand settles somewhere along nic’s shoulder, fingertips skimming against his neck. his gaze lands somewhere near the point of nic’s chin.

          “ you know —– ” he starts, a shaky laugh escapes him, devoid of humor but full of nerves. “ —- i had the biggest crush on you freshman year, ” he says, voice thick. he drags in a steadying breath, a stab of pain in his side as he aggravates his ribs too much. but he’s started and the momentum carries him on, “ it was stupid, silly — you were headed for the nhl, and then i was, and this league isn’t kind no matter what anyone says. but then — ” his voice cracks. the next words all come in a rush, quickening with every syllable, “ —- then you became my friend — my best friend, and THAT became everything to me. it still is and — i —- ” will shuts his eyes, head tilted down again as he exhales trying to gather himself. he can feel the tell-tale burn behind his eyes that threatens tears. ( some deep set part of him saying yes, say yes, say — no ). “ —- i — i’m sorry. i’m sorry but i can’t — i can’t do this. ”

          he pulls away abruptly, from the tangle of nic’s fingers, nic’s everything, the hand on his shoulder slipping to rest briefly against his chest before he’s turning, reaching for the abandoned bandaging and ice. he’ll break if he sees him ; the temptation to flee rushes through him, stronger this time, and his intention is to make good on it but his gaze happens on the pull-out, on the sweatshirt nic gave him last night, and instead he’s frozen in place. he looks down at the counter top instead, breath shallow and fast, grip on the ice so tight his knuckles are near white.

nic doesn’t move — doesn’t even remember if he’s breathing — he just keeps his fingers wrapped around will’s. deep down he knows that saying anything — wrong or right — could push will further away because will doesn’t talk about his feelings ( like — ever ) the only time he can remember will opening up was back at cornell when alexia told him to make the choice — and that was still nic mostly talking and telling him everything happens for a reason. 

his lips curve up slightly when will’s other hand lands near his neck. ( the lightness of will’s fingertips are starting up that burning sensation inside him again ). he wants to lean into the touch, instead his smile falters as will speaks — his words coming out quickly while nic fights to comprehend them all.

crush — stupid — best friend — everything to me — i can’t —

the cold air envelops him as will pulls away and puts space between them. it’s not like he expected will to just open up and pour out his entire heart — but he also didn’t expect him to run. nic’s hands disappear into his hoodie pocket while he just stands there watching will leave — but he doesn’t leave, not fully. nic’s eyes trail down to the ice that will has grabbed again — he notices the white in will’s knuckles and the shudder in his shoulders as he breathes. 

nic moves beside will, taking the ice and bandage once again. this time he does what he was supposed to. his fingertips ghost around will’s sides as he starts wrapping around his waist. he secures the ice to his side — the bruises now, mostly, covered by the tan wrap. once he’s done, he sees that will is still not looking at him.  “ you don’t have to talk right now, but i’m not letting you run away. “ 

          a man of few words himself, he sometimes puts too much stock in actions but the full gravity of nic fighting proves too confusing to grasp fully. he remembers so little in the moments that followed the hit, just the all consuming agony of laying on the ice ( the dull roar of the crowd so far away — that must’ve been for nic’s fight, he realizes ). the closest thing he truly remembers in shocking clarity after the hit is nic and the gentle way he’d taken his hand in the dark.

          he blinks, brought back to the present. will feels dizzy, only this time it has little to do with the fact his brain collided with his skull thirteen hours ago. ( a rising feeling conflicts with the others : oddly touched, oddly pleased — it makes no sense ; he squashes it down ). he’s glad for his steadying hand on the counter as he meets nic’s gaze. bruised knuckles, someone’s broken nose, a hearing, and likely a suspension, a fine —— i’d do it again tenfold. and what does that mean, nic ? he wants to ask. “ you shouldn’t – you shouldn’t have done that, ” he finally says instead flatly, because he can’t say nothing. he hopes nic doesn’t yell, he doesn’t think his head will take to that kindly.

          he reaches out and pulls the bag from nic’s grip, the ice as cold against his skin as the question of why burning inside him is hot. maybe it doesn’t matter in the long run, the same way it doesn’t really matter that he himself won’t be touching the ice again for the rest of the season. the devils weren’t going to make playoffs this season, they were just meaningless games of motions. nic’s fight is not meaningless though — maybe it means more than anything. “ i don’t — ” will turns away with a half shake of his head, shuffles the few steps back. it feels too much to look at nic, easier with the ice and his hands flat on the counter, gaze unfocused on the speckles in the granite there. “ why, nic ? ” he says quietly, “ just tell me why. ”

it’s when he feels the ice leave his clenched hand that nic breaths again ( not even realizing that he was holding it in the first place ). his eyes are trained to a stray thread hanging on the hem of his shirt as he listens to will question him.  he wants to say he doesn’t know, that it was just a reflex — protect your teammates and all that shit — but he is pretty sure the can’t look will is the eye and blatantly lie to him. 

nic’s mind flashes to the three days he spent at his parents house after the fight he’d had with will after a night of a little too much drinking on his part. he’d moped around the first day — choosing to barricade himself in the basement conditioning room. his mom stopped him the second day and made him talk to her. while he hesitated at first — his mother gave him that all-knowing look and confirmed exactly what he was too afraid to admit. 

even after three years apart.... nic was in love with his best friend.  

but was it worth the risk to lose the only real friend nic had ever had. nic had decided it wasn’t.  so he went back to will’s. he tried to fall back into their normal routine — too scared that he’d blurt everything out if he tried to apologize — and it was working. nic was keeping he feelings at bay ( at arms length ). until the cracks started...

the first crack surfaces as he watched will crumble to the ground off an illegal hit. the second crack came when nic saw will in the concussion room. the third crack happened when he’d noticed the tie from the night of their argument — the one he’d made will wear — sitting out on will’s dresser. the fourth crack opened will asking him to stay. the final crack broke the wall when he looked up at will in the middle of the kitchen. he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “ because i don’t know what i’d do if i didn’t have you anymore. “ 

          will stands very still as nic steps into his space ; a chill in his spine at the note in his voice. he’s not afraid, no –he’s never been AFRAID of nic, one of the few, maybe – but there’s a carefulness in the way the ace bandage is taken from his hands, something he can’t quite put his finger on. ( there’s something deep set inside him too, nudged at once again that maybe likes what that infers ). the meds must still be tampering with his head : reading nic has never been a difficult thing for him.

          it’s the look he sees when their eyes meet that finally unfreezes him. “ nic —– ” will starts, following after him. the tile is cold under this bare feet, the profile of nic’s face luminous in the refridgerator light. “ nic —- ” he reaches out, grip gentle on nic’s bicep. he’s never seen him react like this, not in all the bumps he got during his time in at cornell ( not that the ncaa is a checking league ).

          his gaze drops to the bagged ice in nic’s hands, to the bandaging still wrapped around the right. it’s bits and pieces slowly coming together : i’m pretty sure i smashed the guy’s face in — it doesn’t matter. but it does matter. maybe last night it hadn’t in the midst of everything else, but it DOES. “ what —- ” he focuses through the dull ache in his head, in his side, hand moving from nic’s arm to steady himself against the counter top. “ —- what did you do ? ”

that familiar burn comes when will’s hand lands on nic’s bicep ( it’s something nic realizes he craves ) but even with the heat rising inside him — will’s questions make his shoulders drop and his gaze falls to his own injured hand. his flexes his fingers — the dull pain radiating down through his hand — and his mind shows flashes of the hit and subsequent fight. 

" i was coming up the boards across the ice when he hit you. he knew what he did and when i saw his face — “ nic paused, his fist clenching. “ i lost it okay — next thing i know, they’re pulling me off the guy and his face was dripping. “ nic has the bag of ice clenched in his left hand. “ aaron said i broke the guys nose pretty good. got a hearing in two days. “ he figured it was better to just get it all out there — no reason to drag out the consequences of his own actions. 

          as tempting as it is to simply go back to sleep, will knows nic is right. the soreness, at least, is something he can push through ( he’s been pushing through it for years now, and a little pain never hurt anyone ). besides, with a clearer head now, he can feel the grunge on his skin, in desperate need of a shower — maybe the hot water will help. it’s an arduous journey to the bathroom, one hand against the wall as the room spins slightly when he stands up, slow steps until he finally strips and steps under the blissful cascade of water.

          he doesn’t know how long he stands there in the almost dark of the bathroom — weak light filtering in through the blinds from the window on the far wall — but eventually he figures he doesn’t have long until the hot water runs out and regretfully shuts off the shower head. the painkillers must be kicking, because the journey back to his room seems much less of a trial ( though they’re also certainly not as strong as the ones they hit him up with last night because the throbbing is still there — and his mind remains relatively clear ).

          the sweatpants he pulls on are clean ( the others thrown into his hamper ), but he pulls nic’s sweatshirt out of the pile along with the length of ace bandaging. it looks BAD when he gazes into the mirror, fingertips trailing lightly over the ugly bruising prominent over his ribs now in dark purples and blues. he’s trying to figure out how he’s going to re-wrap them when he hears nic’s return, stomach grumbling quietly at the prospect of food — he hadn’t eaten last night, and his body is slowly catching up to the fact.

          he gathers up the pile of fabric and shuffles out toward the kitchen and living room, rolling his eyes at the sight and sound. “ you’re the only one i know that puts coffee on the same level as sex, ” he mumbles, dropping the sweatshirt onto one of his bar stools in favor of untangling the long bandage. one hand swipes at a water droplet as it drips from the end of a tendril of hair and past his collarbone. “ —– not to come between you two, but can you spare a hand ‘n help me here ? ”

nic hears will’s voice before he sees him make it into the kitchen. “ what can i say — caffeine was my first love. “  ( it’s nice to hear will chirping him — something that hasn’t been their normal for weeks ). nic’s ready to return with his own quirky rebuttal when his eyes land on will’s discolored skin. 

nic’s heard of tunnel vision before — hell,  he definitely had it last night when he attacked the guy who hurt will —  and that’s exactly what’s happening as nic closes the space between them in seconds. will’s question sounds distant — but nic processes it carefully and takes the ace bandage into his hands — his eyes don’t leave the deep purple bruises as he takes the bandages from will. “ i should’ve put him in the hospital.” the growl in nic’s voice is new — something that’s never come from his lips in the lifetime he’s played hockey. 

          will wakes up ALONE, as he always has, though when he stretches out his am, his bed still feels warm next to him ; that feels like it’s important fact though he can’t remember why. he doesn’t try so hard to remember, not when his head feels like it’s going through a blender, hazy memories the least of his concern — hazy, in part behind the distraction of the headache coming on, part lost to a blur of dull painkillers that won’t easily come back. his current thoughts, at least, feel clear ; though it might not be completely worth it for the consequences.

          he somehow feels, if it’s possible, worse than he did than in the wake of the hit. in the absence of adrenaline, any painkillers long flushed from his system, and the general soreness that follows a game on top of his injuries, he’s loathe to move. instead he shifts to a more comfortable position on his bed and lies as still as he possibly can. there’s a rattle of distant noise in the kitchen : nic, no doubt. the thought of him close by settles him slightly. his phone is probably blowing up –well, it’s actually probably long dead. not that he’s supposed to be looking at it anyway ; not that there’s anyone to reassure that nic can’t tell from his own number ( truthfully : not that there’s anyone but NIC ).

          gaze fixes on nic when he enters, his comforter bunched in his arms.  he stares at the pills in his palm for a long moment, until focusing on them causes the throbbing in his skull to worsen and then he downs them dry, chasing them after with a long gulp of water. he ends up finishing the entire thing : he must’ve been thirstier than he thought. the glass is cool under his skin, like the ice had been after the hit, so different from the warmth he’d felt last night — or maybe he’d imagined that. there may be more CLARITY for him now, but that’s just revealed a more tangled mess to pull apart : thoughts from memories from dreams. he’d woken up in the middle of the night near curled into nic’s side or maybe that’d just been something his drug addled brain had wanted and then produced to generate the feeling of being SAFE, because surely ——– will frowns, them grimaces as he jostles his ribs trying to put the cup on the nightstand. “ am i allowed to drink coffee ? ”

“ that would be a hard no. “ nic stated, remembering richie’s rundown of will’s care for the next few days. “ gotta get off the pain meds first — but i can get you something to eat. i haven’t had a bagel sandwich in weeks and i’ve got a hankering for one. ” inwardly, nic is grateful to hear will speak so much clearer than the hazy sentences he was putting together last night. it was like his will was back to normal — well as normal as broken ribs and a mild concussion could make him. ( the last words nic remembers hearing ring in his ears ) 

“ i gotta get on a call with aaron, so i’ll probably be back in twenty. “ he felt the corners of his mouth tilt up as he looked at will. “ try to get moving a little bit — you don’t want to get too stiff or i’ll have to carry you to the meet with richie tomorrow. “ he’s gone before he can hear the quip that might come from will’s mouth — and his phone buzzing in his pocket brings him quickly back to reality. he snatches up his wallet and answer’s the incoming call in one swift movement as he exits the apartment. “ he’s okay ma — i’m okay too — yeah, i think we’re okay“ 

the cafe was pretty busy for a late morning — which gave nic plenty of time to hear the many harsh words that aaron had built up over the night. he just sits in a corner two seater and waits for his order to be called while he listens. he thinks aaron’s hit a new record of how long he can go without breathing when his name is called. “ look — i’m not sorry for what i did — and i know that coach isn’t that mad — it’s all gonna be okay. my order’s up and i gotta get back to the apartment. i’ll see you in new york in two days. “ he hung up before aaron could interject. 

          thoughts rise in his mind, cloudy desires he lets slip away as soon as they come : the warmth of nic’s hand, the selfish part of him that thinks this might’ve been worth it for these moments, the question of why, why, why drumming through his head in time to his heartbeat. he feels more than sees nic’s fingers close around his, and he wonders what it is that makes nic stay. ( what is WORTH ? what is the price of broken ribs and bruised knuckles ? what is it nic sees when will has let him see so LITTLE ? ).

          nic’s hand dwarfs his own ; will has always felt small in nic’s presence, even now — especially now. ( but right now, he doesn’t mind ). he blames the painkillers for his sluggish state, synapsis much slower than he would like. the levity is still settling in, mind turning the words over to piece together some hidden meaning, when nic hurries on. it doesn’t matter — but it does. will is sure of that, though he can’t quite grasp the reason why.

                                                  ( that’s the question, isn’t it ? —– WHY ? )

          the effort of it all leaves him exhausted, though. there are long hours ( long days, long weeks, long MONTHS ) ahead, and it easy now to not want to think. it’s easy now to focus on the the dip of the mattress under nic’s weight, the ghost of a touch on his face, the way right now he feels safe. “ ’m fine — ” will says, and it’s not really a lie. not here, not right now ( how much of what he feels is real ; how much of it is the whims of a drug in his veins ? ) “ just —– ” just you, just you, just you. everything is unclear, except for that : a single anchoring thought to hold on to, like he clings to nic’s hand. would nic stay, if he asked ? ( what does it matter, really ). will shuts his eyes. “ —– don’t go, nic, ” he whispers finally, voice soft in the darkened room. “ please. ”

the softness in will’s voice... the sudden grip will’s got on his hand... the voice in the back of nic’s head that’s been there since the fight — without hesitation nic slides into the empty space of will’s bed. their hands never disconnect as nic settles easily. “ i’m not going anywhere, will. “ the words sound absolute and nic realizes the truth behind them.  

 — he’s never leaving will again — 

the adrenaline of the night must have dissipated because the next thing nic notices is a thin stream of sunlight hitting his face — he blinks the sleep away and realizes he isn’t in the living room — and it’s will’s soft hum of sleep that pull him back to last night. nic peers over and see the slight wince in will’s features. he fights the urge to wake him and show him everything will be okay, instead opting to slip from the bed and grab the empty glass from will’s side table as he silently moves into the kitchen. 

his other hand rubs his eyes as he fills up the glass with water and pours out a couple of the tablets from the orange bottle they brought home. he flexes his fingers — the pain from last night morphing to mostly stiffness — before grabbing his phone from the counter he’d left it on last night. 

Aaron- Agent Missed Call (3)

Aaron- Agent iMessage (10)

Family Secrets iMessage (13)

nic inwardly groans as he scanns the messages from his agent — he sends a quick text that he will call him soon and makes a mental note to respond to the family group chat later. aaron had been his agent from the start of his career and the guy really knew how to handle every scandal or speed-bump nic threw at him back in san jose. but nic knows this whole ordeal — the fight, the penalty, the suspension, and most certainly the upcoming hearing — was not going away easily. 

          being ALONE is something will was good at — something he prided himself in most days ( and loathed on others ). whether that was because it was what he liked or because that was how he was raised, may never quite be answered. nic had tried his best to break that tendency back at cornell ; until somewhere along the way will hadn’t minded , and then he’d welcomed it. ( he’d welcomed anything that involved nic early on, starry-eyed as he was in that space between his acceptance and their friendship — but he’s past that, made PEACE with it and being FRIENDS ).

          nic sounds very far away through the twists and turns of a mottled mind — he FEELS far away, even as nic’s fingertips barely graze the side of his face in his attempt to keep his stubborn hair from falling into it. the touch no matter how brief settles something inside him, thoughts –though still sluggish– flowing a bit clearer. “ i —– ” he starts, soft, almost not there at all. he trails off. it’s cold in his room, and that’s never bothered him until now with the darkness pressing in with sapping cold. he gets it now, how DARKNESS can be all consuming so easily ; will doesn’t want to be left alone in it. 

          his fingers are around nic’s wrist before he fully realizes it, skin warm and grounding beneath them. i need you, he thinks —- the thought more vivid, more SURE, than anything else in his mind. the words never make it to his throat, his tongue, into the air where god knows what damage they might do : even in the state he’s in, the courage to voice them eludes him. instead his grip loosens, fingertips running along nic’s hand and then against the roughness of bandages in the dark. will can’t see all that well, more just shapes and outlines and the all-too familiar cut of nic’s face. he remembers, suddenly, the lost thread of conversation in the dark room. his thumb sweeps along the edge of the bandage and nic’s palm. talking gets nic to stay. “ you never told me — what happened ? ”

there’s a comfortable feeling that comes with sitting next to will in his darkened room that nic is realizing he likes ( maybe even craves ). he tries to shut that thought down until he’s abruptly pulled from his own head by will’s attempt at putting words together. he feel’s his chest tightens at the fact that will is having such a hard time forming his thoughts, but keeps a stoic face until he feels the warmth of will’s thumb begins tracing along his own bandaged hand. 

nic’s eyes dart down at their hands —  his skin burning in the wake of will’s touch. the rush of emotions the nic is feeling almost cause him to miss will’s question. ( again he shoves those emotions back down wherever they are coming from ) he’s pretty sure he already knows how will is going to react — drugged or not nic knows will. “ i’m pretty sure i smashed the guys face in. “ nic shrugged ( it’s not like he regretted doing it ) he also didn’t remember much of what happened. nic’s fingers curled around will’s — it was almost becoming a reflex at this point. 

          will gingerly sits on the edge of his bed —- as badly as he wants to just flop out on it, some remaining logical part of his brain reminds him the repercussions of that might be painful. he gets his shoes kicked off and sprawls out near the center of his bed by the time nic returns with crackers and water. he watches him through half-lidded eyes, not quite seeing nic’s motions but seeing the profile of his face, the curve of his shoulders. it’s odd to see nic in his bedroom here, a collision of two spaces that were never supposed to. even back in college nic had respected will’s boundaries ( and sometimes inconveniently private tendencies ), will crashing into nic’s space rather than the other way around.

          nic leaves ( dinner ) to will’s hummed sound of acknowledgment, and will turns his gaze to the uninteresting dark ceiling. he wonders if that ever bothered nic, this imbalance in some ways — in that nic’s transience have always been brief or driven by emergency, like now or that fateful night after alexia broke up with him. ‘you’re locked up so tight’ —- he still hears that, the one portion of their argument he can’t shake because it cut too close to the truth. he wonders why it doesn’t bother him in the slightest NOW, why part of him actually wants nic to come back, and why his bed feels so damn cold. he chalks it up to the meds.

          he pulls up the hood of the sweatshirt he’s wearing and eats one of the crackers that were left, and then another when even though it tastes like nothing it quells some of his nausea. the dizziness for the most past has passed, thankfully, and he eventually curls up on his good-side as best he can to keep an eye on the door. he must doze off again as some point, because he finds himself jolted awake by the sound of nic returning, and the smell of food cutting through the last remaining dregs of coffee lingering in the air.

nic just sits in the living room —right leg bouncing from nerves — and stares at the food in front of him. the throbbing in his hand has subsided — which is a good sign for practice in two days.  he’s mindlessly checking in on charlie ( just a quick text to see that she’s okay)  when his phone pings with the notification to check on will. it was one of the things richie said he had to do every few hours. (though he’d stay with will the whole time if he asked) 

          he falls into a fitfull doze on the way back to the apartment ; cars have always had a way of making him sleepy, exhausted and with the painkillers in his system he stands little chance against it. nic’s touch on his arm brings him quickly back to the present, and his mind wanders back to how his hand felt in nic’s less than an hour ago ( — how nice it would be to feel that again ).

          “ — like its full of fucking cotton, ” will mumbles, making his own unsteady way out of the car. there’s still pressure at the base of his skull, a headache threatening to come on though it never quite breaks through. that’s probably as good as it’s going to get, though — so will tries his best to ignore it. he latches on to other sensations instead : the smell of cheap locker room soap and shampoo that clings to nic, the steadying hand that’s pressed firm against his back, how the sleeves of the hoodie he’s wearing fall past his wrists, the low murmur of nic’s voice in his ear.

          there’s a smell of coffee that permanently permeates his  apartment, another grounding factor the moment he carefully steps over the threshold. he reaches up to tug the glasses from his face ( the streetlight filtering in through the windows isn’t bright enough to aggravate him ), his other arm still wrapped around nic’s waist to support himself. lightly put, he still feels like SHIT, partially tramped by a stampede of bison and then put through a blender. he says as much, though he has a feeling what he says makes even less sense than what’s in his head. “ —- ’m glad you’re here, nich-o-las, ” he adds, name said carefully like he’s afraid of mispronouncing it. “ —– dunno what’d i’d do withoutchu. ” and he means it in the most literal sense of the moment, but there’s a brief nagging feeling there’s more weight behind them too ; an unspoken thought that’d never be voiced with a clear head.

the apartment looks like two single men in their twenties — who have had no proper training in being adults. will is leaning into will much more than before. his arm is wrapped tight around nic’s waist as they maneuver around the still extended pull out — and that’s just making him want to pull will even closer. “ i wouldn’t be anywhere else “ as he makes it to will’s door —will’s words stun him momentarily. “ not even an argument is gonna get rid of me, will — “ he pushes open the door. “ you’re stuck with me. “ he says as he lets go of will to let him fall into bed. his arm is colder somehow, like the absence of will makes him feel incomplete somehow. 

nic retreats to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water and some crackers —something easy for will to eat. he slips back into the room to make sure will doesn’t need anything else when he spot a familiar purple tie sitting on will’s dresser. he sets the items down without taking his eyes from the tie. but his eyes catch another familiar piece of his clothing — a hoodie he doesn’t remember letting will borrow — in the corner of the room. it’s like he’s sprinkled all over will’s room without even needing to be here — and he kinda likes that. 

          he works on removing the ice packs from the out layer of ace bandages while nic is gone, stacking them in a neat pile and tightening the bandages around his chest again. it’s painful work that has him gritting his teeth, even with the painkillers rushing through his blood — it clears his head in some subverted way though, even if he’s taking as shallow of breaths he can manage by the time nic returns with sweats in tow. he’s sitting up now, still perched on the side of the table, the change in position a little dizzying.

          will draws breath to tell nic he doesn’t need help, doesn’t want to be a burden, that he’ll manage just fine on his own like he always has, but the words never make it out. one of his favorite things about being on a team was always the feeling of being wanted, of feeling wanted and that someone had his back, and with nic’s steadying grip on his arm, he’s reminded of that — he wants nic’s help in spite of himself. he flexes his hand, remembering the way nic’s hand had felt around his, before settling it palm down on the table to steady himself as he carefully moves to stand on the floor.

          the change from his leggings to sweatpants is thankfully a little easier than it had been to get his shirt off. eventually he’s reaching for the hoodie still on the table, but he moves too fast when he goes to pull it over his head, pain flaring up in his side again as he shoves his arms through the sleeves and then clutches at the spot over the soft fabric. “ oh fuck —- ” he moans. this is going to be a long three to six weeks if this is what it’s gunna be like the whole time. the sleeves on the hoodie are slightly too long, the shoulders a bit too loose to be his own, and it doesn’t smell like his ( something about it is still comforting though, like he just wants to be wrapped up in it forever ), but the reasoning for all this fails to make it through his foggy brain. instead he’s grabbing at nic’s arm for support as a wave of dizziness washes over him. “ you’re gunna have to —— ” he starts, then pauses, leaning into nic slightly. “ —– room’s like. moving. ”

nic fights the urge to help as he watches will struggle, but as soon as will grabs his arm — face twisted in obvious pain — nic’s arm wraps around will tighter. “ i got you. just breath — listen to my voice. “ absentmindedly, nic’s thumb starts rubbing circles on the cloth covering will’s bicep. “ the walk to the car’s not too far. “ nic was happy the two of them had gotten to the rink early enough to get a front row spot. 

they start the slow journey to the car — nic keeping his voice calm and reassuring as they navigate the corridors to the garage. “ we’re almost there.” nic walks them to the passenger side — opening the door and waiting until will was situated to take the driver’s seat. after adjusting the seat back a few inches, nic looks over at will. the glasses richie had given him look like the same pair you’d get after an eye exam — so they cover a majority of will’s face. something in nic makes him want to brush the hair that inevitably falls in front of will’s face away, but he doesn’t. instead — nic makes sure the radio was barely audible as he starts up the car and drives the quick twenty minutes home. 

          will has thoughts — a lot of IMPORTANT thoughts, but they all slip away as soon as they rise. he too tired to chase them down and so he sits quietly with his hand in nic’s. whatever they gave him is working fast, his headache faded to a dull throb he can almost ignore. focus narrows instead to the warmth of nic’s grip, a grounding point that keeps him from drifting off into a haze. nic’s presence had always demanded all of will’s attention, intentional or not, and now, that’s a welcomed sensation. richie comes back looking grim, which is never a good sign. he tries to listen, he really does, but the words are like his thoughts, slipping away before he can comprehend them. he does catch the important bits though : the concussion, hairline cracks in his ribs, the fact that his season is most definitely over, nic’s hand tense around his like he’s about to punch something. will hopes they don’t expect him to remember all of this, because there’s absolutely no way he will in this state.

          “ yeah, guess i get a fun souvenir too, ” will says. he’s aiming for humor, but his voice sounds very far away in his own head. with the lights turned up a bit more, he drinks in the panes of nic’s face, wonders if it’s the painkillers skewing his observational skills at the level of concern he sees in them. movement draws his attention to nic’s bandaged hand, brows drawing together as he tries to piece together what that means. he shifts as best he can to get a better look, rising slightly on the elbow of his free arm. “ what’d'you do ? nic, what —– ”

          he’s interrupted by richie’s return, papers in hand and a bottle of pills in the other. will slumps back, shuts his eyes against the brief flare of light pouring into the room, and then keeps them shut. “ he can’t drive, obviously. ” richie must be talking to nic now. “ and will : ” –he opens his eyes at the sound of his name– “ no screens, no close reading, and only take the prescribed amount of pain meds at a time. no more or else it’ll be that much worse when they wear off. and these should help you a little with light sensitivity. ” he procures a pair of sunglasses from his pocket, leaving them on the table along with the papers and painkillers. “ you’ll heal, will — it’s just going to take some time, ” he adds before departing. 

          will sighs, withdrawing his hand from nic’s to reach for the glasses, “ time to go, i guess. ”

will doesn’t quite sound like himself — the painkillers mixed with the concussion making his words drag a little — nic drops his bandaged hand quickly at the words — not ready to hash out the fact that he pummeled the guy who injured will into the ice. his saving grace is richie coming in and giving him the rundown of taking care of will for the next few days.  — thank god for written instructions.

the sudden removal of will’s hand catches nic off guard — like the warmth was sucked from his body for a split second. “ easy. i got ‘em.” he beats will to the glasses — an easy task given the other brunette is moving slower than a snail — and opens them before handing over the darkened lenses. the need to take care of will is starting to well up — a feeling nic hasn’t felt since his sister was sick all those years ago. as will works his way into an upright position, nic has his arm under his in a moment for support. “ why don’t i go grab you some sweats and throw our bags in the car. just take it easy. “ before will can protest, nic walks out of the room. 

character development questions {open}

022. What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen?

nic eyes brightened at the question, one thing coming to mind. “ the first time i saw the california sunset on panther beach. i was feeling homesick, so i got up crazy early one morning and just drove around until i could see the sun cresting over the water. I pulled over at the empty beach and just walked out onto the sand and took in the silence and beauty of it all.” 

023. What do they consider beautiful in others physically?

nic has to close his eyes to think for this one. “ their smile.” suddenly he sees a familiar one in his mind. the way one corner always ticks up before the other, and as nic opens his eyes again a grin is spread across his own features. 

024. What do they consider ugly in others physically?