#will mack

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Will and I worked it out. Macklin and Will have most definitely not worked it out. I want to get up; suddenly awake and with my heart bursting through my chest.

“Dude get the hell over it, it happened. It’s obviously over between us- whatever the hell it was”

By the time I get to my crutches and down the hall it’s a shoving match, “it doesn’t make what you did any better! It makes it worse! You know how much it means to me. God you’ve basically ruined her career it’s probably your fault”

I whistle sharply, “no. I’m not doing this shit- this is an apartment. People can hear you. Get the hell to bed”

They separate. Macklin goes to Phoebes room where she’s graciously allowed him to stay. Will stares at me, his face softens; his mouth slightly ajar; chest heaving slightly.

“Lizzie I’m sorry” he goes to apologize

“Look. I know I was wrong, and what I said earlier was. Obviously a mistake. There’s a game tomorrow night. I don’t want to be at fault for” I gesture to him; and then to the closed door, “whatever is happening.”

Will closes his mouth. Stepping towards me, I exhale softly as he helps me pivot and turn back to my room.

It’s evening the next day when I sit in the boxes. I don’t really know anyone but Cat Toffoli. Usually I’m in the gym when games happen. But this time. I’m in jeans, a brace is still around my leg. Will’s jersey is over my black hoodie.

“How have you been?” She asks, hugging me tightly.

“Ah, I’ve been good. Healing and such” I gesture to the fact I’m standing by myself. No crutches, “free of crutches as of this afternoon!”

She applauds, “I’m glad. So update me. I haven’t talked to you since forever ago”

I laugh sheepishly, “well. I’m looking into some medical trials. At Stanford they’re doing live transplants and it could get me back to competing again” I explain, “I haven’t told Will or. Even know if I’m a candidate for it”

“I can keep it on the hush hush” Cat smiles, “I’ll take it you’ve seen the edits then?”

I know what she’s talking about. The videos of me with a Hercules song playing. Grainy videos of the first time I stepped on ice, cut to clear videos of my medals and my beaming smile after my first Olympics. The way I collapsed onto the ice after a routine; sheer exhaustion and joy in my bones. They always end the same. Me at that press conference; bandages and brace around my leg. Staring off into the distance with tears in my eyes. Announcing my forced retirement.

Cat Toffoli places her head on my shoulder, her hand encapsulating my own, “you’ll beat the odds. I’ve seen it. I’ve been a fan since your ‘colors of the wind’ routine”

My heart softens at the statement, I first preformed it when I was eleven. Bold and high jumps, flowing through the movements with axels and lutz jumps professionals had struggled to master.

It’s easy to tell when something isn’t working on the ice; especially between two professions who ping-pong off each other telepathically. Passes are being missed; Macklin isn’t where Will expects him to be, the puck gets passed to the other team by accident. Even from above I can still taste the tension between the two.

It all breaks out halfway during second period. Macklin leans over to Will, and Will throws his gloves off and lunges. Macklin grabs at his jersey and starts throwing his own punches, “oh my god” Cat gasps out, her grip on my arm tightens, “what the hell”

It’s Toffoli and Reaves who break apart the fight; with the help of the opposing team which baffles me even more, Macklin gets sent to the box and Will just storms off, “I’m going to” I quickly stand and march my way over to the locker room. Hoping at least by the time I get there he’s partially cooled off.

I’m wrong.

Will is still fuming, kicking at his bag and throwing a stick, “how could you!” He asks, “how? How is it?”

His words are more insulting than before, my shoulders drop and I stare down at my feet, shame creeping up through my shoulders, “I-i”

“No!” He shouts out, “you go and do that after everything I’ve done for you? You sleep with my best friend? I tried Elizabeth. I tried to be nice and understand since you got injured and obviously are miserable.” His words creep out like venom. Stinging slightly as I keep my eyes focused on him.

“I know- Will can we just not do this here?” I ask, almost pleading with how I step towards him.

“No! We are doing this here. We’re doing it now. What do you want Elizabeth. Me. Or Macklin”

My stomach drops. Everything drops. My spirit, my posture. Everything.

“Don’t do that. You don’t get to give me an ultimatum” I point back at him.

“Yeah? I dont? You don’t get to cheat on me with my best friend after I spent hours upon hours helping you eat because you wanted to be fifteen pounds lighter?”

I exhale sharply, “oh. Fuck you. Fuck you” I whisper out stepping back, “you don’t get to mention my eating disorder”

“It’s the only reason redbull picked you up” His final words cut the deepest.

He’s heaving softly, chest rising and falling rapidly. I purse my lips and try and feign the tears that want to spill from my eyes, and then I say it. The words I never wanted to ever say to him, “this is over Will. This is so fucking over” I turn awkwardly and walk myself out of the locker room.

It’s Nedeljkovic who is the one to greet me, “hey Lizzie, what’s up” he’s smiling and I think I might throw up.

“Um. I’m fine. Will isn’t- uh” I look back at the locker room, “we just broke up so.”

Alex exhales and sighs, “yeah. What’s going on with him and Mack?”

I shrug, “I don’t know”

He nods, “I’ll see if Tyler and I can’t help him to use his brain for once” patting my shoulder softly, “it can’t be that bad”

Oh but it is that bad, I think. I give him a pitiful smile and keep walking.

I slow down, raising my head to look at her. Soft red hair sectioned back into a bun, "hit me" I nod.

She places her hands in her lap and smiles, "Well. You qualify for the experimental surgery. But. You'd have to consider moving to California at least for four-ish years. Starting directly after the surgery."

I exhale and place my hands on my knees, "wow"

"We can schedule you for tomorrow evening, should we call the contact on file?" She asks. I nod- it doesn't even occur to me that the emergency contact isn't my parents; its Will.

When I first applied to this study, we were still together. And Will only lives a handful of minutes away from Stanford- it was a no brainer at the time; him instead of tue parents who live over a thousand miles away in Boston.

It’s too late for me to correct the mistake, it’s too late because I only realize when

Will smith (DO NOT DRUNK TEXT)

Texts me; it’s short and simple.

Hey Elizabeth; I know we’re over and I’m sorry for what I said. I got the call you’re getting a surgery on your knee. I know your parents are in Boston I can come wait for you until they get here

Hi Will. Thanks I didn’t realize you were my contact on file. I’ll need someone to be here with me to get released. I know you’re busy.. don’t feel like you have to I have a friend in Arizona she can fly in by tonight

It’s not an issue I’ll be there by tomorrow afternoon after practice

Oh. Ok thank you Will

I want to die. To actively curl up and die and retreat into my safe little apartment in Boston. Except I’m not in Boston. I’m in California. And my ex boyfriend is coming to save me once again.

It takes me an hour to get situated in the room, it takes less than that for Macklin to show up. Which surprises me, “you’re not supposed to be here” I murmur, scratching at the base of my neck. Fluffing out the scratchy blonde hair I’ve tried hard to braid before surgery but eventually just given up on.

“Oh I know. Will said you needed someone with you before surgery and uh he got caught up with a hockey thing so I’m here” He smiles awkwardly and pushes his hair back as he invites himself in my hospital room, “so what’s on the agenda today?”

I scoff at him as I plop down on my bed. The room is sterile and clean, crisp and white and the most uncomfortable, “uh. I’m looking for apartments. I’m moving to San Jose I guess” I shrug as I sit; staring methodically at Macklin as he looks around the house, “you two worked it out”

He sighs and sits in a chair, slumping and slouching, “yeah. I said some stupid things that night. I shouldn’t never said what I said” he admits looking down at his shoes, “I should apologize to you too while I’m here”

I exhale softly, “no need Macklin, it was a mistake I- I understand”

“I don’t think it was a mistake” he whispers out, “I like you a lot. Elizabeth but I know your loyalties lay with Will.. and”

“Stop. Just. Stop. I’m not making the same mistake again Macklin” I cut out, “I cannot fathom the idea of doing this now”

He quiets and stares at me as I brush through my hair again and try and stuff it into a braid, “let me help you” he murmurs standing and I can feel him behind me. Not his hands just the brooding presence of his body behind me.

“You know how to braid hair?” I ask, turning slightly, but he corrects my head. Pulling the hair tie and running his fingers through my hair. His hands tangle at the knots; tugging slightly as he divides my hair into sections.

“Yeah. I have a little sister. I learned how to braid her hair for some of her hockey matches when my mom was away. Do you want it French? Or Dutch?”

“Uh. Just a regular three is fine” I don’t shake my head. But I stare blankly as Will walks in. His eyebrow quirked and flowers in his hand.

“Didn’t realize I missed a braid train” He snickers and I roll my eyes. I can’t help but fight the attitude; the familiar comfortability that reaches me whenever I see him. I know he’s not mine; truthfully he hasn’t been for a long time but. The way he awkwardly stands and the way Macklins hands gently cup the backside of my neck as they toy with a missed strand of hair. Everything comes flooding back to me.