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After the game, David wasn’t surprised to be picked for the winner’s room. He was surprised Ramón came up to him and actually asked if he was okay to go.
“Schnetzi, I just let in 6 goals. You did everything you could out there, I saw how hard you all tried. It just won’t click for me right now. But that’s on me. I need to get it together. I know. But the last thing I’m gonna do is forfeit.”
Ramón just looked at him with big, concerned eyes and nodded, before patting his shoulder a last time and continuing on his way to his stall. With a sigh, David stripped off the rest of his gear, movements tired and sluggish. He couldn’t remember when he felt any different after a game these days. There was a staffer at the entrance, impatiently fiddling with a clipboard in his hands. Probably here to get him. After getting dressed in some team branded sweats and a hoodie, he silently followed the guy out of the room, along some nondescript corridors. He just wanted to get it over with. However, David did wonder who’d picked him. It could be their Captain, Lebler, for his two goals. Or maybe one of their D-men, who also did a great job. Or maybe- maybe it was the finn on the other side of the ice who hadn’t let anything past him that night. He genuinely didn’t know which one would be worse. Or- he did know. Because he didn’t know Tirronen, and on the ice, he was quite intense. And tried to start a fight during the game with one of David’s teammates who bumped into him. He pulled himself out of his thoughts when they arrived in front of a grey door without any label on it. How inviting. He quickly signed the consent form the staffer held out to him before opening the door and walking into the room, closing the door right in front of the guy's face.
Scanning the sparsely furnished room, he let out a sigh. He was still alone. The room itself didn’t improve his mood, it seemed more like a repurposed storage room than a Winner’s room. At least it was clean, and the bedsheets were monochrome instead of orange and petrol. He doubted he, or anyone, because this wasn’t about him, would be able to get one up in orange and petrol bedsheets.
He’d just pulled off his hoodie when the door opened again and Madlener tried not to flinch as it closed and locked automatically. Of course, there was a safety button on both sides of the bed that would unlock the door immediately in case of emergency, but unless either of them had a problem, the door would stay closed for the next thirty minutes. All of a sudden, he was awfully focused on folding his hoodie, feeling the pinpricks of someone’s eyes on his back.
Before he could turn around on his own, a strong hand on his shoulder slowly twisted him around, bringing him face to face with Rasmus Tirronen. He crossed his arms defensively and couldn’t help the bitter chuckle from escaping. “Wow, great way to make this even more humiliating. Fucking class act.” David didn’t have it in him anymore to hide the way his voice caught on the last part, quickly looking to the side so he at least wouldn’t have to witness the sneer on Tirronen’s face.
But.
Instead of laughing, or pushing him to his knees, or being annoyed, Tirronen just sighed and pulled him into a hug. And not even one of those awkward sidehug shoulderpat things men tended to do. No. David was fully engulfed in the other man’s arms, face pressed into the hollow of his throat. He stiffened, unsure.
“Don’t worry. Just relax.”
The cadence of Tirronens voice made his frayed nerves settle a little, made him clutch the fabric of the other goalie’s hoodie tighter between his hands, not ready to let go fully yet. Absent-mindedly, he noticed he was shivering. With his face hidden from the other man’s eyes, it was a little bit easier.
“It’s just.. so hard. It feels like we’re never gonna win again. I- I know I should believe in the team, but it’s just-.. did you know the fans started booing us on home ice? If they even show up. It was my dream to play there. I grew up in Feldkirch. That’s my home. But now it just- it feels suffocating. I swear I’m trying, but it’s just never good enough. We only won five games so far. The whole season. I don’t know if i can do this til next year. I’m just.. so tired.” After he started to talk, he couldn’t stop. Sure, the words were almost forced out of his mouth and he didn’t even know Tirronen heard it all because he was still shivering so hard his teeth clattered, hands balled to fists so tightly his knuckles were white. But through it all, Tirronen stayed silent, rubbing his back and politely ignoring the tears seeping into the collar of his hoodie.
“It’s not your fault, David. I saw you. You made great saves out there. You’re not a bad goaltender. You’re not even just an average one. Don’t sell yourself short just because the people in front of you can’t get it together for more than a period. Of course, everyone has slumps. And some of those, admittedly, last longer than others. But you’re so much more than what the stats show. And from what I’ve seen, your team should be very, very glad to have you between the pipes.”
A soft “Oh”, was all David managed, before he fell apart, dissolving into sobs, too exhausted to care about holding anything back anymore. After weeks, or maybe months of just trying to hold it together until it got better again, this was maybe the first time he managed to let go and just let himself feel.
Later, when he managed to get it together again, David still didn’t dare to move. He only went when Tirronen took a step back, the taller man’s hand moving from his neck to his jawbone to tilt his head up so they could look at each other. Cradling David’s face in his hands, wiping at the tears still flowing silently with his thumbs, Rasmus was not at all behaving like he expected coming into the room. Instead of taking, he gave David a break from it all, let him rest for a moment.
Rasmus gently kissed his forehead, the apple of his cheek until David didn’t want to wait any longer and for once, took for himself and kissed the other man gently, eyes fluttering shut as the other responded.
By the time he left the room, he felt loose limbed and more relaxed than he could’ve imagined. And not once did he notice the room’s timer that was stuck on 00:00 for the last half of the time the two goalies spent in the room.