“It’s fine,” Elliot mutters and tries, and almost succeeds, to put a smile on his face. “It happens. There’s always next year.”
“Do you need anything?”
Elliot is too tired to figure out if he needs anything, so he shakes his head, because it’s easier. “No, just… bed.”
“Okay,” she says and leads the way.
He kisses her and they stumble a little and she laughs. He tells her that he loves her and she blushes, like he said it for the first time. It’s still a new thing for him say, it’s not like he’s ever said it to anyone else before, but it never seemed hard to him.
Natalie tucks him into bed, kisses his forehead and runs her fingers through his hair until he starts to drift off. “Oh, and Elliot?” she says.
“Huh?”
“I love you, too.”
He smiles into his pillow.
The loss still stings, because losses like that always sting. He’ll carry it around with him for a while, will be reminded almost daily until June, when someone will finally lift the Cup and they’ll slide into the oblivion of summer for a while.
Chapter Seven
Blake can tell that his phone keeps buzzing in his jeans. He had it out when he left the rink, but then stumbled across a horde of fans in the parking lot and quickly stuffed it into his pocket so he wouldn’t accidentally drop it while he was signing stuff.
They’re playing their first preseason game tomorrow and he sort of wants to get home and make dinner, but he’s been signing stuff all throughout training camp, so what’s one more day, really? When fans ask him for photos, he suffers through those as well, well aware that people always say that he looks like he’s waiting for the ground to swallow him up in every picture that’s taken of him. He’d rather sign jerseys for half an hour than take even just one selfie. He eventually manages to detach himself and walks back to his apartment.
He moved out of Mattie’s basement during the summer and found a pretty nice place about a 10-minute walk away from the rink, bought the largest bed and the largest couch he could find and then found out that the couch is more comfortable to sleep on than the bed. No, he’s exaggerating, but when he falls asleep on the couch, he actually stays on the couch.
As he walks away, he finally manages to check his phone. Noah has been texting him.
did you forget about me?
shit wait i’m like 30 mins early
i’m getting food u want anything?
Blake replies that no, he hasn’t forgotten about him and that he’s on his way home, and he also says yes to the food, hoping that Noah will pick something that wouldn’t make every NHL team’s nutritionist cry.
He makes it to his place before Noah does, but Noah is close behind, since he was already in the area and got food at the Thai place down the street. They eat in front of the TV, Noah chirps him because he still doesn’t have any video games, and then plucks Blake’s takeout box from his fingers and gets his hands in Blake’s pants so fast that Blake’s mind doesn’t even have time to catch up.
They eventually end up in Blake’s bed, maybe two hours later, Blake eating the rest of his now cold takeout, Noah upside down on the bed in nothing but his briefs, eyes half-lidded, lips red.
“Is your mom a model?” Blake asks, because, honestly, she has to be.
Noah laughs. “She was. Not anymore, though. She does tons of charity stuff now.”
“Yeah?”
“Human Rights Campaign,” Noah only says.
Blake looks back at him, wondering if it’s too personal if he asks Noah if his parents know. He had Noah’s dick in his mouth about twenty minutes ago, so maybe personal isn’t the right word, but–
“They know,” Noah asks. “I’m assuming that’s the question you were chewing on?”
“Yeah.”
“I told my mom pretty early on. When I was fifteen maybe? She helped me tell my dad. He was, uh… He has some issues with it.”
Blake doesn’t like the present tense there. “Oh.”
“We don’t talk about it.”
“Sorry.”
“It was a bit awkward when they were still together, but now it’s…” Noah shrugs half-heartedly. “Don’t look like that. This isn’t, like, tragic or anything. He cheated on her. A couple of times. She forgave him the first few, but…”
“That sucks.”
“Well…” Noah stretches. “You know, it’s okay to ask me stuff. I literally spent an entire week in your bed when you got this place, we’re at a point where we can swap life stories, I think.”
Blake laughs, finishes his veggies.
“You ever tell anyone?” Noah asks.
“Not really.”
“Seriously? No one?”
Blake shakes his head.
When his parents died, he didn’t have anything to tell them yet. He was eleven. He doesn’t remember when he started to realize that he wasn’t as into girls as he was apparently supposed to be. He kissed a girl when he was thirteen and it was… underwhelming. He thought maybe he was just bad at it.
It dawned on him eventually.
He didn’t say a fucking word. Not to anyone.
He never told his brother, never told his grandma. He has no idea how Evan would react; they didn’t spend enough time together during the last couple of years for Blake to have him all figured out. His grandma would be okay with it, she has friends who are lesbians and makes them pride flag cookies for their birthdays, and Blake has nearly told her so many times that he’s lost count but he can never bring himself to say it. Sometimes he works up
