#0271

Mack might not have been clued into the fact that Will planned nearly everything, but he was a good listener. A good partner. He heard what Will wasn't saying and he made the effort to plan more things for them, to be the one to pick Will up and drive them places or to practice.

Will had noticed, sure, joking about now being the passenger princess, but Mack had liked doing it. He liked the way Will always smiled when Mack suggested things or organised for them to go somewhere Will mentioned.

Now, Mack sat here, looking at the text and trying not to feel rejected when the confirmation e-mail came through from the restaurant that the reservation was cancelled.

It took a little while for it to sink in that Will had cancelled on him. That he had given no thought to Mack or his feelings when he had cancelled last minute. That the truth was that Will had probably forgotten all about the date until Mack had texted him, despite Mack having said "see you tonight" when they had split up, and that he had picked plans he had made with Leno over the ones Mack had made with him.

It hurt.

It really hurt to the point that Mack chucked his phone into the mess of his bed when Will sent him a picture of him and Leno at some restaurant as if Mack was going to reply like he usually would.

The hurt and the audacity of the text had Mack pulling off the nice shirt he had put aside for tonight. He balled it up in his fist, chucking it back into the corner of his closet before struggling out of his pants, swapping the nice outfit for one of his brothers hoodies that he had stolen the last time he saw him and sweats. #

Ignoring his phone, Mack grabbed his iPad and headphones, pressing play on a comfort show and then he zoned out.

Time meant nothing to him as he blocked the world out with his headphones, body moving on autopilot to clean the mess of his room for something to do with the hurt energy building inside him.

His dad had always told him not to sit in his feelings, to be active about them until he could confront them healthily when he was more levelhead, and cleaning worked a treat.

By the time he turned around to find Will standing in his doorway with a concerned look on his face and a to-go box in his hands, Mack was just finishing the kitchen.

"What the fuck, Mack?", Will blinked at him when Mack took his headphones off, "Dude, it's after mid-night"

"Okay, and? Why are you here then?", Mack stated bluntly before turning away to grab his empty water bottle and refill it to take a sip.

The sound of the water hitting the inside of his bottle kept Mack from thinking about the silent way Will was watching him.

"I got you that dessert you like", Will cleared his throat, "I thought we could share it and watch something"

Mack took his time retightening the cap of his bottle. He's eyes remained fixated on the little splash of water on the counter.

"I assumed you'd be busy, and I'm not hungry. It's late. We have a game", Mack knew his voice sounded distant and cold but he couldn't bring himself to try and act normal. Not when it still hurt.

He could hear Will moving. He heard the thud of the take-away box hitting the counter. His footsteps against the floor sounded like a quiet death march, and when he reached for Mack, Mack flinched away.

"What-? Mack, c'mon. What's wrong? You've been off since I text you", Will ducked his head, forcing Mack to look at him, "Just tell me what's wrong, Celly. I can make it up to you"

Mack felt the hurt bubble up inside him at Will's words, and he couldn't stop it.

"You are such a dick. Just....just leave me alone. You know what you did, and fine, okay, I get it, but fuck you for showing up here"

Will looked as if Mack had slapped him with the way he spoke. His eyebrows were pinched, lips pressed together in a tight line but he never stopped looking at Mack with concern.

"I really don't, Macky. Why are you so upset?"

Mack couldn't help the laugh that left him.

“Why am I upset? You canceled on our date last minute!", Mack scoffed, throwing his arms out a little dramatically but so what, he was feeling things. He deserved to be dramatic right now even if Will's look of concern turned to confusion and shock, "Ugh, just forget it, you’re not into me, message receive—“

“Whoa, whoa, hold on", Will cut Mack off, stepping towards him, "That was a date? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

It was Mack's turn to stare at Will in shock with his mouth open because he couldn't believe it.

"Tell you? We've been dating for months! I thought it was pretty clear. I frickin' booked a fancy ass restaurant from your dream date list, Will! I made reservations!", Mack ranted because he couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that Will was standing there, slow smile forming on his lips at Mack's ranting as if he unlocked some great secret, "What? Why are you smiling?"

Will stepped closer, looking a little cocky and way too happy for someone getting yelled at at 1am.

"You wanna date me", Will grinned, ignoring the way Mack batted at his hands like a disgruntled cat when he reached for him. His hands managed to find their way to Mack's hips, pulling him closer despite Mack's grumbling, "You were gonna take me on a date"

"I have been dating you, you idiot", Mack huffed, cheeks warming with how Will was looking at him, "Thanks for noticing, asshole"

"I was an idiot. An idiot who could have been doing this"

Before Mack could ask what "this" was, Will was kissing him, making every angry or annoyed thought melt out of Mack's head as he leaned into it, melting a little.

When the kiss ended, Mack was left feeling a little dizzy and flushed as Will stole a second quick kiss with a smile.

"I'm sorry I missed our date. Let me make it up to you?"

He follows the other end of it with his definitely-not-sober gaze, but once he sees it he already knows where it’s going to end.

Will, across the room, surrounded by the vets on the U-shaped sofa, is talking animately with his hands waving in the air. The sparkling string tied to his own pinky catches the light in the room so obviously that there’s no way he couldn’t see it, if he were able to see it. The chain that links him to Mack, that marks him as Mack’s perfect match.

Fuck. The sight is so overwhelming that Mack feels it in his knees. 

“You good?” Ned asks, and he forces himself to look back at the goalie and smile with teeth.

“I’m fine.”

Ned nods, but doesn’t say anything else. 

Mack’s not been fine, but Ned’s smart enough that he probably knows Mack doesn’t want another post-mortem of the gold medal game from a well-meaning teammate. After landing back in San Jose, he’d been numb from the all consuming grief of silver for maybe 24 hours before the threat of the Sharks missing the playoffs began to sink in. 

They need to lock in, Mack needs to lock in. No time for grieving anymore. He didn't even want to come tonight, but the season's about to start again and he needs to jump back into the Sharks of it all.

Milan was a shitshow, but Mack can’t talk about it any more than he already has, to Will and to his dad and to Sid… even to Davo, when he called to check in like the bonus brother he’s decided to become. 

He knows he’s been kind of a nightmare, even if he’s tried to limit running his mouth to Will in the privacy of Will's truck. His teammates can clearly tell how Mack feels anyway tonight, because they keep shooting him these pitying looks.

He’s never been good at hiding his emotions like that. Has never tried, except maybe when it comes to his increasingly huge thing for Will.

He chances another look over at the sofas, and Will meets his eyes like he was waiting for it. He grins, and Mack grins, and then Mack looks down at his own hand again, a subtle flick that he’s desperate to see Will repeat. He telepathically wills Will to look at his own finger, to see what Mack sees. But when he looks back up, Will has already looked away, full on doubling over laughing at something Reavo’s saying to him, leaning into his side like the puppy he is.

So: no, okay, it definitely hasn’t materialized for Will. His eyes aren’t open like that yet… if they’ll ever be. 

The thought makes a shiver run through Mack.

It just fucking figures that Mack would get his string sight first. Mack’s already aware that how he is about Will is not normal–he'sfaced the chirps at the Olympics from guys who have clocked enough bonded-pair NHL weirdness to spot his particular brand a mile off. 

But Will… Mack has no idea how Will feels about their friendship. He’s seen Will with lineys before, the way he can light up any room he wants and make a guy feel valued if he turns on the charm. Mack has no way of measuring if their thing is different, or if it’s just proximity for Will. Easier to have a best friend than not, in the league, a built in support system and buddy in an unfamiliar place.

Mack knows he’s kind of a lot, is all. That he wants too much, can be too intense. 

This, too, feels like proof of that. A potential soulbond forming in front of him, 19 years old and in his second NHL season. Like, Mack’s spent two weeks in the most hideous stress of his life with the worst possible heartbreak at the end and apparently his soul has locked in and decided now’s the time for some big gesture. It’s fucking embarrassing, honestly, to see the proof of his need tied to his pinky….

If he has a string, if his soul says Will is the one it needs… well. Fuck. He’s not surprised, but it’s terrifying.

“Gimme another one?” he asks Ned, nodding at the tequila bottle, and Ned doesn’t hesitate before topping them both up.

Mack doesn’t let himself look at the string again, his stomach churning with too much emotion to sort. All he needs to do is wait for Will to notice too.

But, like. He will notice, eventually, right? He will accept it?

The only heartbreak worse, Mack thinks, than losing the gold medal… would be for their string to snap.

_______________

tapping his foot lightly the raven grimaced at the train station’s clock. it was getting so close to his work’s schedule time it was making him fidget his gym bag. looking around the area for the train his own train of thought got distracted by some wavy greenish grey haired male in a pharmaceutical coat next to one of the trash cans with an ash tray ontop of it.

he watched as the currently smoking male finished, dropping the stub to the ground and grounding it up. it took much inside of him to not smack him upside the head for that as he heard the mechanical voice through the voice box announce:

“attention east S boxcart passengers, the boxcart will unfortunately only allow one more passenger due to overflowing and will take more in after it’s next run in half an hour. we apologize for the inconvinience. again S boxcart will only take in one more passenger. thank you.”

looking to his ticket for the S boxcart he looked to see the male a couple steps next to him looking to him aswell, as if both knew what was going down. as the train slowed down he watched the other try to make a run for the door, running immediately next to him trying to block the still closed door as he tried fighting off the doctor.

“oi move it handsome!” he exclaimed threateningly as liang felt him trying to push him away, trying to get his hands off him. “i’m not letting some guy who doesn’t throw his cigar away in an ashtray next to him on this train!”

“I-wait there was one why didn’t ya tell me!?”

“are you that stupid for a pharmacist!?”

“look here kid i’m late-”

“like wise!”

as the doors opened both immediately rushed to them, getting into the door’s entrance they tried pushing and pulling eachother off after taking up the door’s entrance, liang quickly moving his leg infront of the doctor’s only for him to fall along with him as he held onto his sweater.

both groaning they slowly got up looking around as the door closed behind them to the mostly empty cart.

“...wait didn’t they say-”

“thank you for boarding west S boxcart.”

both their eyes twitched. “WE’RE IN THE WRONG CAAAAAAAART!”

-------------------------

as both slouched in their seats qi looked to his watch at the time, groaning to himself. “maaaan. damnit.” he grumbled as he looked to the raven, his fingers still pinching the bridge of his nose ever since they sat down.

“oi come on it’s been ten minutes ya can’t still be ma-” he started only to see him shivering, moving a little closer to the wall he found a grin that his hand was hiding as he...giggled?

“this...is so stupid.” he chuckled out lightly as it contagiously got qi to join him. “man right? false advertizing at it’s finest on this one.” taking a deep breath liang calmed himself enough to lay his head on his hand. “not to mention i thought tripping you was the best idea, don’t tell my martial art class this.”

“ey i mean it would’ve worked ehehe.” he chuckled along sighing with him.“so, mister martial artist it’s almost eleven thirty and i’m starving.” liang quirked a brow lightly at that. “odd request to make. i usually go with people i know.”

“well you know me.”

“on a first name business.”

“oh your the proper type i get ya i get ya.” he stated offering his hand. “qi’s the name.” liang looked to his hand and sighed shaking it lightly. “liang. any lunch recommendations?”

“think this train can take us to this nice terriyaki place.”

“any healthy lunch recommendations?”

“man you really are proper type hah! i guess i’ll owe ya one then for earlier.”

“you mean the bickering or you dumping your cigar on the ground next to an ash tray?”