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The game was tough from the beginning. His defensemen tried their best to block shots and change the direction of play as often as they could, but they didn’t stand a chance against the force that was the Red Bull offense. So when they managed to give up a 3 to 1 lead in the dying minutes of the third period, Rasmus was about ready to throw hands with the next person coming too close to his crease. As the horn signaled the end of regulation, he took a deep breath and shook out his arms before skating back to the bench.
The crowd that was deafening before got silenced after the Bulls managed to force overtime on a game that should have been an easy win. A few of his newer teammates avoided his eyes, which, yeah. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to stay clear from his anger. Shit absolutely hit the fan. He shook off his glove and blocker before taking his mask off and taking a sip from his water bottle. His goalie partner bumped his shoulder. “You got this. What’s the big thing about overtime anyways, eh? Just five minutes of three on three hockey. The guys will score before the Bulls see what’s coming for them. And then we can go home with a few more points.” Rasmus just shrugged, not wanting to think about the time after the game just yet. He had to keep it up for a bit longer. Which was easier said than done because his muscles already ached from an exhausting game and the tips of his fingers felt weirdly numb and tingly at the same time. Maybe he should get that checked out after the game.
He put his glove and blocker back on and skated back to his crease, crouching down low and focusing on the upcoming challenge. The ref blew the whistle and both special teams got ready to take the first faceoff. The following overtime was chippy, both teams getting a few good chances in, but neither of them scoring. At the end, he was about ready to yell a few obscenities at the first person getting into his field of view, but he restrained himself. This was not over, he couldn’t start yelling at his teammates now and make them feel bad for something that was mostly his fault.
After a small lap around his goal, he waited by the bench for the teams to figure out which players to send out, busying himself by messing with his water bottle. This time, no one tried to talk to him. Even Thomas knew better than to approach him now, and Rasmus was thankful for that. There was a pressure behind his skull and an uneasy feeling in his gut. He felt like this wouldn"t end well. But he couldn"t allow himself to think about the dreaded L-word now.
The ref blew the whistle once again and Rasmus slowly went back to the crease. Foolishly, he wished he could just disappear and sleep for ten hours straight right now. But now was not the time to think about that. He stared to center ice, awaiting the first shooter from the Mozartstadt. He got into position as the player approached, focusing on every step he took and managing to block the shot easily with his pad and deflect it to the side. He got up again, shaking out his shoulders as he watched Knott take the puck and skate towards the opposing net. Kickert also managed an easy save. At least he had a good game against his former employer. Salzburgs next scorer skated a tight circle before the ref signaled him to get on with it. He tried to confuse Rasmus with a fake out, but the goalie once again managed a save. Lebler was on the ice next, but Kickert denied him as well. The knot in Tirronens stomach grew tighter and tighter with every new scorer, until almost every guy he thought would end this was denied by the rival. His concentration started to wane, and when the sixth- or seventh forward from Salzburg took the ice, he lifted his glove a fraction of a second too late and the puck whizzed past his head into the net.
The goal horn blared ugly in his head, it was over.
For a moment, the arena was dead silent. Rasmus felt like he"d snap something in half if he touched anything right now. His goalie partner came up to him, trying to say something reassuring, but Rasmus couldn"t hear anything besides the angry echo of the goalhorn in his ears.
He skated to the bench where most of his teammates had already left for the locker room, hitting his stick against the glass once, twice, then a third time onto the boards by the bench. The solid wood and carbon didn"t budge. His throat and eyes burned, mind fogged up with dizziness. He couldn’t get his team the win and now he couldn"t even let his anger out. All of a sudden, he was just exhausted. Offhandedly, he registered the crowd chanting his name, "Ti- Ti- Tirronen!", they went. But he couldn"t even feel the usual warmth about it that he usually felt when the crowd appreciated his efforts. Because today he didn’t deserve those chants. He just waved tiredly, forcing himself to look up into the crowd, see how many of them were already leaving their seats, probably disappointed by his performance.
Thomas clapped him on the back and Rasmus just silently went off the ice, walking to the locker room, his gear feeling even heavier than usual, like it was waterlogged. Like he carried the burden of yet another loss at home on his shoulders. It didn"t help with his ever growing headache. He was just a disappointment. His teammates had relied on him in the shutout and he failed them. Again. They were so close to beating the reigning champion in their own barn and Rasmus failed them by even letting it get to overtime in the first place. Dejectedly, he slumped down in his stall, going through the motions of taking his gear off methodically, starting his wind-down routine. Brian came up to him, clapping his shoulder. "It"s not your fault man. This is on all of us. We didn"t have your back like we should have had. Don"t be so hard on yourself."
Rasmus could only nod, not daring to make eye contact with his captain. He could accept kind words from his captain without thinking they were true, but he didn’t want to be too disrespectful and let it show.
After taking his gear off, he got rid of his base layers as well and slowly made his way to the showers. Most of the young guys were already gone, so he was thankfully alone. The water was freezing when he turned it on, but he didn"t have the energy to turn it up, nor did he feel like he deserved a warm shower soothing his aching muscles tonight. His thoughts were buzzing around in his brain like relentless little flies, constantly whirring around his head. It was suffocating him. He didn"t really notice time slipping away from him, the noise in the locker room growing even quieter, until Thomas stepped into the shower, worriedly glancing at Rasmus" shivering body.
"Hey Ras.. we should get you out of here. That can"t be comfortable, my guy."
Startled, Rasmus looked up at him, but wordlessly shut the water off before accepting the towel that Thomas gave to him.
"Thanks. I just.. didn"t play well enough tonight. We should have won that."
Thomas" eyebrows climbed higher and higher.
"Dude. We played the Bulls. Playing against them is never easy on our best days, and sure as hell not today after we gave up the lead."
The anger seeped back into his skin at his partner"s words, irritation showing on his face in the form of an unhappy frown.
"Yeah, because I couldn’t hold it together. I gave up the lead. This game should have been a regulation win but instead I fucked it up in the last five fucking minutes."
With a sigh, Thomas picked up the towel from the floor and continued drying him off. Huh. Rasmus didn"t notice that he even dropped it. Stunned, he just stared at the display of tenderness from his partner, a closeness usually reserved for nights when they were both just intoxicated enough to blame the not exactly work friendly feelings for each other on the alcohol.
Thomas just finished drying him off without saying a word, and stepped back again after he finished.
"Come on. Get dressed. The game is over and you shouldn"t let it affect you now. We all have our bad days."
With another nod, Rasmus gathered his toiletries and wrapped a towel around his waist before walking back to the locker room. A few guys had stayed after they were done, some of them weren’t finished with their postgame routine. But they all looked up when he entered, faces apologetic.
"Ras, we"re sorry. We should have gotten you that win at home”, Santa said from his stall, accent a little stronger, as always when he was upset about something.
All of a sudden, his throat felt tight again. And when Breddy was the first one to get up and hug him, their teammates following to pile together in a hug, not even caring that he stood there in just a towel, he finally let himself and the tears he held back fall.
It was an overwhelming realization that even when he felt like he couldn"t get anything right, his team had his back, and he"d be eternally thankful for that.
When he left Fehérvár after his first season in the ICEHL, he felt detached from everything for a while, nothing working quite right with his new team, the Black Wings. But now, after a full season and some more, the people sharing the locker room with him were family. And a family stuck together, even after shitty games like this one.
He could feel the warmth from his teammates and tried to hug them back equally as ferociously, which proved to be a bit difficult, considering the amount of people involved in this hug. After a few more moments, his teammates slowly retreated back to their stalls to let him get dressed.
He just wanted to grab his keys and head out to see the team doctor before going home, when his captain came up to him once more.
"Hey man. Don"t drive alone today, okay? Let Thomas drive you home. I don"t want you to get stuck in your head about today. I know you tend to do that", he finished with a small smile.
Rasmus nodded, brain still hung up about the fact that his captain somehow realized how close Thomas and him were.
“Uhm. Yeah. Sure. I’m gonna do that”, he spluttered, before awkwardly making his excuses to go see the doctor.
He still had no idea what was going on with his hands, even though it had lessened again.
He walked up to the physician in the hallway who ushered him into his office promptly and made him explain what was going on. Rasmus tried to be as detailed as possible, also mentioning the pressure behind his skull and the nervous, fluttery feeling in his stomach. The doctor listened with growing concern.
“I’m not qualified enough to say much on that matter, but the symptoms you have listed and the circumstances strongly make me believe you’re describing a panic attack. It might have been slowly building up during the game without you noticing.”
Stunned, Rasmus looked at him, trying to make sense of the doctor"s words. “But- shouldn’t I have noticed that? I know what a panic attack is. I definitely would have noticed that. It wasn’t that severe.”
The doctor just nodded. “Like I said, I’m not a licensed psychiatrist, I’m just telling you what I see.”
“Okay then. Thank you doc. I’m going to think about what you told me. Have a good night.”
He quickly left after that, mind reeling for a whole different reason now. On the way to the exit, he almost bumped into Höne, who stopped when he registered that it was him. "Oh! There you are. Was wondering where you went. Brian said I should take you home but when I wanted to go and get you, you were already gone. All good to go now?”
It took an embarrassing minute for Rasmus’ brain to come back online again, but when it did, he quickly nodded. “Yeah. All good. Should we go to yours or to mine?”
“Your place is closer. So it’d be dumb to drive all the way into the city to my apartment, right?”, Thomas asked with a grin, before walking towards the exit that led to the parking garage. Rasmus made an affirmative noise and pushed the door open, walking towards his car.
On the drive home he noticed, absentmindedly listening to Thomas talking about this new sushi place he found, that he could finally relax fully, the bad game only important on paper for the moment.