"Really," Zack heard Matt say to the guy he was corralling, who had stopped insulting his barfight counterpart and was now cursing out Matt. "If you want to hurt my feelings, you need to get more creative than that."
Zack chuckled grimly to himself. Then backup arrived, in the form of what seemed like the entire staff of the bar at once, and Zack and Matt could fall back and let the professionals take over.
The brawlers were escorted out, and Zack and Matt returned to the rest of the hockey guys—where they were met by cheers.
"Our heroes!" somebody shouted, while someone else bounded over to the bar to order more drinks for everyone.
Matt gave Zack a high five. "We are awesome!"
"Yeah we are!" Zack dropped back into the seat he'd abandoned. He gratefully accepted a beer from the kid who had been behind the bar when the fight started.
"Thank you, you guys," he said, his cheeks flushed. "You guys get beer on the house forever."
"It's no problem." Zack couldn't help grinning. The entire thing had happened so quickly, and was so very absurd, and would surely make for a wonderful 'ridiculous things that have happened to me' story.
"Yeah, anytime." Matt raised his own glass. "To independent bouncing!"
"To independent bouncing." Zack picked up his own glass—or tried to. It slipped out of his hand and rolled off the edge of the table onto the floor where it shattered, spilling beer everywhere.
"Oh shit, I'm so sorry," Zack jumped up, or tried to; exiting the booth was awkward, and he was mortified. The bartender, however, took it in stride; evidently this was the kind of crisis he knew how to deal with.
"Hey, no worries, be right back with a mop and stuff!" He darted off, and Zack was left to shuffle out of the booth while avoiding the puddle of spilled drink and broken glass.
"Are you okay?" Matt asked suddenly.
"Yeah, why?"
"You're not breathing quite right," Matt said.
"Oh." Zack tried to assess his own state of being and came up blank. His focus had narrowed strangely, and his heart was pounding deafeningly in his ears.
"Um," he said. "I think I should go sit down somewhere."
He started to stagger off in the direction of the bathrooms with a vague idea of achieving privacy, but Matt caught him by the arm and helped steer him to a quiet back corner instead.
"Sit here," he said, pushing Zack gently down into a chair. "I'll be right back."
He returned in a moment with two glasses of ice water, both of which he pushed at Zack.
"Drink," he said.
Zack's hands were shaking badly, but he managed to down half of one of the glasses in one go. “I’m not drunk,” he said.
"I know. Panic attack?" Matt asked, brisk and almost clinical. Without judgment.
The wild pounding in his ears didn't stop, but something loosened in Zack's chest.
"Yeah," he admitted. “Something like that.”
"All right," Matt said, calm and with an air of unflappability Zack hadn't seen from him before. "You need anything?"
"Um." It was hard to think in this state, but Zack tried. "I don't think so."
"Cool. I've got nowhere to be and the staff here loves us now, so we can just chill out here a while, okay?"
"Yeah. Okay."
Matt sat with him, while Zack sipped water and tried to take mindful breaths the way his therapist had walked him through. He wasn't sure how long it had been by the time his breathing had finally returned to normal of its own accord and his heart was no longer doing a tap dance in his chest.
"Thanks," he said.
Matt looked up from his phone, where Zack had been watching him play some kind of off-brand scrabble game. Badly. "Don't worry about it. You okay?"
Zack shrugged. “Better, at least. It's been a while since I've had that happen. That bad, at least."
"Don't worry about it." Matt set down his phone. "My brother was in the service; I've seen what that can do to somebody.”
“I wasn’t in the military,” Zack felt compelled to clarify for some reason. He realized he’d never told Matt what he did, beyond journalism generally. “I was a war correspondent.”
“That’s intense,” Matt said. Again with that neutrality; he wasn’t judging or impressed, which was a relief. Zack could barely manage his own emotions right now, much less someone else’s.
“Yeah.” Zack looked at his hands. Steady, now, thankfully. "Thanks. For sitting with me."
"It's no problem. You want to go home and get some rest? You okay to drive?"
"Yeah, I should be. I definitely wasn't before but now, yeah, I got it."
"Any word from Aaron?" Matt asked as they walked out to the parking lot together.
"Not much. He's been busy with camp."
"You should give him a call, say hi. Hear a friendly voice."
"You're a friendly voice."
"Yeah, but I'm not your cute skater boyfriend."
Zack sputtered. "You said you were straight!" was his knee-jerk and not particularly useful reply. He wasn't jealous, but he was confused.
"I am, but I am also progressive and have good aesthetic sense. He's a great skater. And very attractive. Tell him I hope he leaves that Sauer kid in the dust."
"Will do," Zack said. He was still amused, but the mention of Sauer only reminded him of all the ethical lapses he was flirting with in regards to Aaron.
By now they had reached their cars. Matt unlocked his with his key fob, and it beeped in the still night air. "And if you need anything," his friend said solemnly. "I don't care what time it is. Call me, okay?"
Zack nodded and unlocked his own car. The night had been a mess, but Matt's reaction had reinforced how much he had going on here in the Twin Cities even aside from Aaron.
I should write Sammy a thank you note, he thought to himself as he drove
