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“You should probably go back to your room now.”
Connor buries his face in the crook of Leon's shoulder and hangs onto him for dear life.
“No.”
He doesn't like how each rare moment they have together is temporary, flitting in and out, gone before it starts. He's trying to keep something that filters through his hands quicker than he can find more.
“Come on. Get your clothes on and go back to your room.”
Connor can't leave because he doesn't know the next time they'll have this again.
“Can I at least stay the night?”
He can't let himself enjoy this, instead worries about when they'll get this again, what happens in between.
“You know you can't.”
Connor wants to forget about his reputation for a second. He wants to forget about speculation and rumors and media. He wants to be able to live in this moment for just a little longer. That's all he wants.
“I don't care.”
He needs this. Just being with Leon. Being able to feel him and talk to him, to be sure he's really real.
“I want you to stay, too.”
Connor feels hands carding through his hair. He pulls Leon closer.
“Then let me. Just once.”
Sometimes he lets his thoughts wander to circumstances in which they're allowed to do this. Maybe they could do this every day. He could have the privilege of simply being in proximity to Leon.
“Alright.”
Connor smiles. Sometimes he gets this. Sometimes he convinces them both they're not being reckless.
Sometimes he thinks he's just being paranoid. But then sometimes he remembers what happens when he's not careful.
There are rumors for a reason.
He's used to being targeted. He's the golden boy, the next next one, whatever. Point is, he gets the spotlight. And when someone else wants that spotlight, they'll do anything to shove him out of it.
Connor is skating along the boards, checking for someone to pass to, and
The ice is cool against his face. He can't breathe. He feels like he was hit by a truck. He just needs a second.
Connor gets himself up on all fours. He looks up and sees a black jersey…he can't read the number, seven something. He says something, and Connor knows he should be tougher, but it makes it even harder to breathe.
“Fuckin’ faggot.”
Air won't get into his lungs. He can't move. Fuck. Does he know? A familiar feeling shoots up his spine. Everyone knows. He wasn't careful enough, his reputation he's spent so long carefully and reluctantly building is all gone and his chest is too tight to breathe.
Connor curls up into a ball on the ice. It's pathetic, he knows, but he'd move if he could.
“Connor!” He hears someone shout his name. It takes him a second to realize it's Leon’s. He looks up in time to see a blur of white and orange slam into black and red.
Logically, he knows it's Leon who hit him. He knows it's Leon who is shoving people away from him. But he can't get his eyes to focus. He's only thinking about how his career is over, and probably Leon's by extension, shit, he's gonna hate Connor for this. He doesn't know which is worse, all eyes on him or the prospect of none at all. He can't handle either.
“Connor?” Leon is suddenly eye level with him. “Are you okay?” Connor doesn't remember how to speak. Instead he just shakes his head.
“Mitch?”
“Yeah?”
“I don't think I want to go first.”
Connor likes Mitch. He understands him. He listens. And his dumb smile is always contagious. He's glad he got to room with him before the draft.
“You deserve it, though. It'll be alright.” Mitch flashes one of those ear-splitting grins that makes Connor believe him. The corners of Connor's mouth twitch upward.
“Hopefully.” Doubt creeps up through the cracks in his mind, unshakable in their nature and clinging onto his every thought.
Then Mitch smiles again, different somehow. It’s more fond, shines brighter than the fear embedded deep in his brain, scaring it away.
“It'll be okay, I promise. And we’ll stay friends after we get drafted. You'll always have me around.” Mitch always has so much enthusiasm, so much energy. His eyes are always lit up. He has faith in Connor, it makes him believe in himself, too. Mitch always puts Connor in a better mood.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
All they have to do now is wait. Wait for the draft. It's excruciating. Connor doesn't want to think about it.
They're supposed to be asleep by now, but neither of them can. He looks over at Mitch again, laid out on his hotel bed. He's looking up at the ceiling and smiling about something. Always so happy. Connor wants to stay near him forever, bask in the energy he gives off.
Before he knows for sure what he's doing, he slides off his bed and gets on Mitch’s. He sits on the side awkwardly. He just wants to be closer to Mitch. Connor wants to feel as happy as he does.
Connor plants one of his hands on the other side of Mitch and watches his breath catch.
He leans down closer.
“Connor?” Mitch’s face is dusted a reddish-pink, exacerbated in the low yellow light. His eyes flick down to Mitch’s lips. Mitch looks perfect right now.
Connor leans down and kisses him. Mitch gasps, pulling Connor in closer and running his hand along the back of his neck.
“You left some of your stuff, and you weren't answering your phone, so I thought I'd just- what the fuck?” Jack Eichel. How did Jack get a room key? He- he's not supposed to be in here.
“Oh, Connor, what the fuck?”
Connor doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what to say.
“Jack, don't tell anyone, please,” Mitch pleads.
“That's disgusting. What the fuck? Fucking faggot.” Jack walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
He can't feel his arms. His ribcage is too tight around his lungs and he's sure his heart is going to explode from how fast it's going.
“Mitch.”
“I know.”
“I'm scared.”
“I am too.”
“I'm scared, Leon,” he whispers.
“We're okay. I need you to get up.” Connor doesn't. He meets Leon's eyes. They look as terrified as Connor feels.
“I can't.” Connor needs to reach out and grab onto Leon. He needs Leon to hold him until he believes he'll be okay.
“Come on.” Connor knows Leon needs to hold him.
Connor gets up and skates over to the bench, looking behind him to make sure Leon is following. He's so scared that he might actually throw up.
Instead of the bench, he's ushered off the ice for concussion protocol. Connor passes, but by the time he's let off, the game is over.
He doesn't even look at Leon before he leaves. When he passes the home team’s locker room, he hears that voice again.
“Called him a fag and his boyfriend went after me-”
He can't fucking do this anymore. He wants to go home.
Connor gets another rare moment where he's brave enough to see Leon. They're in Connor's house eating dinner, and he tries to let himself enjoy it.
“Connor?” Leon says. He sounds tired. They both do.
“Yes, dear?” Connor says, because he likes to pretend they can have this.
“I proposed,” Leon delivers it like he's announcing the death of a family member. It doesn't feel terribly dissimilar.
“Oh.”
Connor doesn't stand a chance stopping the flood of tears that comes after. A terrible choking sob escapes his throat.
“Come here.” Leon sits under the table. He knows it's where Connor goes when he's dealing with something he can't handle alone. It's something to hide in. Connor joins him. They both have to duck, but it gets the job done.
Leon pulls him into his lap and rubs his back. Connor can't think, only feels terrible waves of bad. Leon's eyes are wet, too.
“I'm sorry, Connor.” Leon whispers. He kisses Connor’s forehead.
He knows it's not possible. He knows what happens when you try. He knows Leon still loves him. But it brings a finality that he can't try to ignore anymore.
He muffles his sobs in Leon's shoulder.
Connor doesn't chance looking at Leon in public anymore. He's so damn paranoid. But he still loves Leon more than life itself.
They're having an okay game. They're up by one against the Rangers. He's trying to take deep breaths on the bench after a grueling shift.
Leon is sitting next to him. So close he can feel his body heat, but at the same time, so astronomically far.
He gently kicks his skate against Leon's to remind him he's there. Connor meets Leon's gaze and stops breathing for a second. It harbors more pain than Connor has ever seen in it. The fact that Leon could ever experience something that projects such anguish across his beautiful face makes his heart break.
They need something to change.
Connor is feeling brave after the game. They won, and Leon got a goal off his assist.
He backs Leon into a storage closet and kisses him hard.
Connor can tell they're both upset, and they both need this, and it's not a fix. But it works for now.
Leon kisses him back desperately, one of his hands moving to the small of Connor's back, the other tangling in his hair. They're both just trying to get as close as they can to each other as quickly as possible. Leon moves his mouth down to Connor’s jaw and bites along it, trailing to the juncture of his neck and his shoulder, back up to his mouth.
“Leon?” Connor whispers, pulling away to catch his breath.
“Yeah?” Leon moves his hand up and down Connor's back.
“I love you.”
Leon smiles for the first time in a while. “I love you too.”
There's abruptly too much light.
Connor's heart sinks.
He remembers the day before the draft. A wave of nausea floods through him.
Jacob Trouba is standing in front of them. His neutral expression pivots to anger.
“What the fuck are you two doing?” He hears Jack’s voice instead of Trouba's. “In my fucking arena?”
This is exactly what Connor has been terrified of ever since the draft.
“Get out,” he orders them.
Trouba shouts after his team. They know now.
Neither of them say anything until they're alone in the hotel elevator.
“Connor-” Leon starts.
“I can’t,” Connor interrupts him. “I can't do it.”
Connor is pacing back and forth in his kitchen.
“This is hurting both of us.” Leon sighs.
“I know. I know. But I love you.” Connor’s throat hurts from crying.
“I love you too, but what we're doing now isn't working.” Leon is crying too.
He threads his hands through his hair. “Leon. Don't leave me, please. I can't- I can't. I can't. You know I can't.” He doesn't know how to finish the sentence. He just can't.
“If you're not okay with coming out, there's nothing we can do. I don't know what to do, Connor.” Leon buries his head in his hands.
“Of course it's not okay, I have a career, I can't just throw that all away.” Connor doesn't know what to do either. He just wants to run away. “I'm so fucking scared, Leon. Don't leave me.”
He can hear that that gets to Leon.
“What if we, okay, I won't be gone, I'll still be on your team, and if you're okay with coming out or we retire or whatever, whenever you're ready, we try again. We just wait.” Leon suggests. He must be doing worse than Connor, because that plan is fucking stupid. But it's the only relatively okay idea they have.
“Sure. Sure, why not.” Then a realization hits him. Leon is fine with coming out. He doesn't care. Connor's fucking this up himself by being too scared, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck “I'm sorry, Leon. I want to be braver for you and I'm trying and I don't know what's wrong with me and I should just-”
“Connor. Connor, it's fine, I'm not gonna push you to do something like that. We can just wa
it. I'll be here. I'll wait for you.” Leon moves to sit under the table.
Connor follows him.
And he waits.