All We Need is Daylight

Frank’s week proves to be a very busy one. From the first of the week, it seems Frank can’t find the time to do much of anything besides, eat, sleep, practice, and squeeze in a little bit of schoolwork. It’s not a busy week as far as school is concerned, but it’s one of the weeks where they have two hockey games crammed into the same couple of days, which means that Frank is doing a whole lot of practicing, and if he’s lucky has a little bit of time in between to breathe.

Their first game of the week is on Wednesday which means that all of Monday, and a majority of Tuesday is spent doing endless practicing. Gerard decided it would be a good idea to schedule a morning practice, which most hockey teams do anyway, but it turns out not to be a bad idea for their team. They all pile into the locker room on Monday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, a time early enough that a week ago, Frank would have done some figure skating practice with the assurance that no one would barge in.

They are very tired Monday morning, nothing much is achieved besides making Frank sore throughout most of his classes that day. That night, they have another practice. Gerard runs a practice game. Frank, Pete and Morgan win the practice game, almost singlehandedly given how shitty the other teams defense is, and then Gerard yells at the defense of the opposing team he’d made because they’re not actually doing anything to stop Frank from making goal after goal. Frank honestly wouldn’t even say he makes the goals because he’s good, he would say that he makes the goals because someone, not to name any names, but Mikey, is just not fucking trying.

“Michael James Way, what the fuck are you even doing out there? Do you need me to get you a TV remote? Is the game not exciting enough for you? Need a fucking sandwich, you little shit?” Gerard says, very loudly, earning him somewhat of a reprimanding from Coach, who obviously doesn’t like Gerard speaking to the players like that.

“He’s my brother, I say worse things to him when he does something right,” Gerard replies, in defense. Coach doesn’t push it, but she’s obviously not happy with Gerard’s word choice. Frank doesn’t mind as long as Gerard’s not yelling at him.

Gerard loosens up on the swearing, but not on his attitude. He’s still very critical about Mikey’s performance, as well as some of the junior and senior players who he obviously expects to be doing better than they are. At least a good three fourths of the reason he’s tough on Mikey is because they’re brothers so he obviously expects more from him, but really, the guys who’ve been on the team for three to four years now should be doing better.

Morgan, whose one of the oldest guys on the team, is working his ass off, working up a sweat not dissimilar to what you’d expect to see on someone who just jumped into a pool. Frank, who’s one of the youngest players, is trying about twice as hard as the guys who should be better than him.

Because of this, Frank and Morgan are probably the only two people on the ice who Gerard doesn’t yell at every other second. Even Pete gets his fair share of chewing out. Gerard screams at Frank once or twice when he doesn’t make a shot that he probably should have, but other than that, he remains fairly polite to him. Gerard doesn’t yell at Morgan at all, though, and Frank wonders if that’s because Morgan is a good player, or if it’s because even Gerard is a bit afraid of the guy. Even with the superiority of being a coach, Morgan has got to be one scary dude. It’s not just his eyebrows which make him look evil, it’s also his personality.

Morgan looks like the kind of cocky rich kid who would murder someone and then hire a lawyer who costs about the same price as a penthouse to defend him. He probably is rich, given his attitude. Rich people definitely carry themselves differently, and they see everyone around them as beneath them. Either Morgan is that arrogant about his hockey skills or he is no stranger to money. Given how poor Frank is he does not like Morgan in the least, seeing as how he literally gave up his dream to attend one of the best hockey schools in the country, in order to get a full ride scholarship for one of the shittiest teams in the country. Why on earth Morgan would be here, however, Frank doesn’t know. Surely, he could have afforded to go to a school with a better team. Perhaps, though, Morgan’s not smart enough to have gotten into a school with a better team. Armstrong’s acceptance rate is somewhere between ninety-five and a hundred percent, which is to say, you don’t need to be a fucking genius to get in.

Frank is exhausted when Tuesday comes around, but he’s thankful that he doesn’t need to wake up for early practice again today, seeing as how Gerard realized that it was a mistake ten minutes in yesterday. Frank almost considers waking up early anyway to practice figure skating, but decides against it when he feels the warmth of his blankets around him. Instead, Frank sleeps in, presses snooze a few times too many which means that he doesn’t have enough time to grab a coffee before his class.

By the afternoon, Frank is feeling quite a bit more energized than he had been yesterday, given how he didn’t have to attend an early morning practice. It’s just not a good idea, maybe if you’re in the NHL and don’t have classes, but for a college student it’s not logical.

The practice on Tuesday night is ever more grueling however, because they’ve got a game tomorrow. It’s not a home game, the school where they’re playing is about two hours away by bus, which means that Frank has to miss his last class tomorrow to get to the bus, but it’s not the end of the world. He’d spoken to the professor earlier today about it, and he was a little annoyed, but wasn’t objectionable. He probably wouldn’t be irritated at all if their hockey team were any fucking good. To his professor, Frank’s missing class in order to inevitably lose a game.

Frank spends most of practice watching and evaluating the other players, trying to pick out the ones he knows he’ll be able to trust when he’s out on the ice. Travie is a damn good player, but unfortunately, he’s a forward which means that Frank won’t get to play with him, as he’s in a different line. It is reassuring though, to know that Frank’s isn’t the only good line on the team. Travie is a lot like Frank on the ice, a great goal scorer, always about twenty steps ahead of everyone else around him. He’s got a tactical mind, a little bit more analytical than Frank, who usually makes decisions based on his gut, but he’s an interesting player to watch. He’s the kind of guy who you’d go to a hockey game just to watch him, and only him. Frank does that often when the Capitals are playing, just sort of gawks at Ovechkin and tunes out the rest of the world. All the while rooting against them, because Frank is very committed to his shitty, shitty ass home team.

Another one of the better players is Ray, who, of the two goalies on the team, is the superior one by far. Ray doesn’t let most goals pass him, and Frank suspects that a reason for why their team has been losing so far this season is because of the fact that the other goaltender, whose name is Daniel, was playing when the other team scored a goal.

Mikey is probably the most defensive offensive player that Frank has ever seen. He’s not really a shot taker, literally, as in he doesn’t even attempt to make most shots. He doesn’t even seem like he’s aware that he’s a forward, because Mikey spends most of play in the defending zone, just sort of lolling around in his own little world. He’s not one of the better players, there’s a good chance he wouldn’t be on the team at all if he weren’t a legacy, a third-generation legacy at that. If this were a different school, rather than the painfully dreadful team that it is, there’s no way in hell Mikey would have made it onto the team. Not that Frank doesn’t like Mikey, because Mikey’s probably one of his closest friends, he’s just not a great hockey player.

Brendon is a defenseman, and Frank has practiced alongside him only a few times. He’s not bad per say, but he’s an unexciting hockey player. He doesn’t bring anything all that new to the table. He’s quite good, but his skills are limited, very polished, but not extensive. He’s a good player to have on the ice if your team is up on the board, because he acts almost like an offensive player even in the defending zone. He probably isn’t the best choice if you’re lagging behind, however.

The other defensemen on the team are absolutely enormous creatures, big bulking, yetis that you’d expect to see in a dark alleyway at night. They’re also a part of Morgan’s entourage which means that Frank does his best to steer clear of them, both on and off the ice. The scariest guy on the team, apart from Morgan, is Garret, who is conveniently Morgan’s roommate. They look like they’d make quite a team. They could rob banks, commit murders, kidnap people, they’d be great at all of those things. They’re also both fairly good at hockey. Frank is very much terrified of them. The feeling he gets when he’s near them is the same one you’d get if you’re on the highway within close proximity to a truck. You’re somewhat sure it’s not gonna hit you or roll over, but if it did, you’d be dead in a matter of seconds.

The Tuesday night practice goes on for a lot longer than normal. Gerard is pushing them way beyond their limits, but he doesn’t stop. He’s getting even more anxious about the team having lost all of their games so far, and it’s a tangible feeling. Frank could touch it in the air, the hunger in Gerard’s eyes to win a game. He wants it so much, and he’s getting all the more desperate. Frank wants nothing more than to give that to him. Well, that’s not true. Frank wants Gerard more than he wants anything.

The team practice into the night. Frank doesn’t know how long he’s actually been there, but by the time that they’re finally released, the campus has already fallen asleep around them. Frank would love to just collapse when he gets back to his dorm, but he smells like he made a cologne out of locker room smell, so he takes a shower so long that the water starts to turn cold. He’s not as bothered by how long it takes him though, considering that it’s so late that he’s got the shower in their hall all to himself.

Frank makes his way back to his room, and he finds Ray asleep with a textbook on his chest when he opens the door. Frank does his best to be quiet, considers whether he should do a little bit of homework before he goes to sleep, but the mere thought of it makes his stomach feel like lead, so he decides against it. He’ll just get some work done on the bus tomorrow on the way to their game.

Frank falls asleep in a matter of seconds. The time between his head hitting his pillow and the time when he falls asleep is so small that a kindergartener who doesn’t really know their numbers yet could still probably count the seconds.

Frank awakes feeling adrenaline and nerves. He is agitated all throughout the day, he’s not sure if it’s because he didn’t get enough sleep or because he’s nervous about the game tonight, but whatever it is, it keeps him on high alert. He definitely can’t be snuck up on today of all days, because he’s hyperaware as it is.

The day passes by him at a regular pace, not overly short or fast. He’s definitively nervous, but he’s excited. Tonight seems like, so far, the only game that the team might actually be ready for. They’re not playing a particularly good team, so that definitely evens the odds a little bit. Also, they’re more practiced then they usually are before a game, so Frank feels something that he doesn’t want to call confidence because he’s nervous about how that’ll make him feel if he loses. He calls it reasonable hope, but it’s sure to be devastating if they end up losing, given how much Frank feels like they might actually win.

Frank does nothing besides study on the bus that afternoon, which gives him a bit of a headache because he doesn’t read well when in a moving vehicle, but he cannot afford to not study right now. Seeing as how Frank didn’t want to bring multiple textbooks with him on the bus, he reads a little ahead of where he needs to be this week, because hopefully it’ll give him an edge a little later on.

Gerard had sat next to him on the bus with the goal to make casual conversation and to not fall even further in love with the boy, but he doesn’t get either of those things. Frank is too busy to even look up from his textbook, he probably isn’t even aware that Gerard is sitting next to him.

It’s clear that Frank doesn’t know who’s sitting next to him, because he’s capable of actually reading the textbook while bumping elbows with Gerard. That’s not even accurate, he’s practically pressed up against the guy, could hold up a piece of paper between the two of them, cause it’s a small bus and neither of them are elementary school children so they take up a large part of the seat. If Frank did know it was Gerard, he’d probably faint.

It’s nearly two hours into the bus ride and only about ten minutes to their destination when Frank looks up to realize that Gerard is seated next to him, and that’s when his heart shatters into a million tiny little pieces. He knows that he is henceforth incapable of studying any longer. He is touching Gerard. Sure, it’s his arm and a part of his side, and they’re both wearing multiple layers of clothing, but they’re still making physical contact. Considering how deprived Frank is, this is enough to make him crazy for more which he cannot have.

This prompts Frank to slam his textbook closed and then scoot over in the seat so that his face is practically pressed up against the window, which is cold and unyielding against him, as opposed to the warm softness of Gerard. Frank can definitely say which he’d rather be pressed up against, but he can’t always get what he wants. If it were up to him he’d be pressed up against Gerard whilst wearing no clothes, but the world isn’t always that luxurious.

When they arrive at the school, Frank is pleasantly surprised to see that their weather is somehow monumentally different than the weather at Armstrong, despite it only being two hours away. The sun is high in the sky, there isn’t a cloud in sight and there’s a pleasant breeze on the air as opposed to the blisteringly cold one that’s been about town the past few days. It’s only days away from winter there, but here, it might as well be spring.

Frank helps the rest of the team load their gear off the bus and then lug it all into the locker room of the school. Their locker room is quite an odd layout, much like that of a high school. Armstrong may be a somewhat poor school with a shitty hockey team, but their locker room is at least a little bit nicer. It smells pretty bad, but there are worst things.

Frank wastes as much time as he can out of his hockey gear, because not only is the weather warmer, but so is the hockey arena, which seems to be a furnace. It’s a wonder there’s any ice, Frank would’ve expected it to melt. Frank’s only got twenty minutes or so to kill before he really needs to get ready so he wonders around the outside of the building, which is conventionally next to a small park, which seems more like an alcove than anything else.

To either his joy or chagrin, Gerard joins him.

“You nervous about the game tonight?” Gerard asks.

“The answer is always going to be yes. I could be a twelve-year veteran in the NHL playing his one millionth hockey game and the answer will still be yes.”

“Well that’s good then,” Gerard says, “If your nerves ever start to wear off I think that’s a sign you should quit.”

“I suppose,” Frank shrugs. “I bet you’re even more nervous though. You take the team more seriously than even me, and that’s saying something considering hockey is my only interest in life.”

“Well, I don’t know. I just love hockey. I want to see us win. I want to see us actually do something exciting. I want to make not only my dad proud, but like, I want to show the school what we’re made of. The hockey team is a bit of a laughing stock, I’m sure you know. They call our ice rink Hell for fucks sake. It’s treated like a haunted mansion. It sucks, everyone thinks we’re fucking cursed or something. But I think we have it in us to prove them wrong, if only the team could open their eyes to see that.”

“I don’t think our problem is any lack of skill,” Frank says, “it’s just that skill isn’t enough to win a hockey game.”

“Don’t I know it. Things have been changing ever since you got here, Frank, I don’t know if you know that. You can’t know what we were like before you got here, but let me tell you, it’s been steady, but looking back on it now, it’s almost like we’re an entirely new team. It’s subtler than that, but everything’s changing. I think in another few months we’ll have transformed. We’re changing for the better, you know. We’re getting better. Us getting better means we’re still shit, but if we keep climbing, I’m sure we’ll reach the top of the mountain someday.”

“It’s not just me,” Frank shrugs. “There’s a lot of good players on that team. Pete, Travie, hell Morgan is phenomenal. An absolute dick trumpet, but what a hockey player.”

Gerard laughs and nods, “yeah. A lot of the guys are pretty shitty. I don’t know, I think it’s because we’re not all that exclusive, clearly, so anyone can get in, or I mean to say, anyone who actually makes an attempt to get in probably will. You’ve seen how small our team is, even with the exclusivity and finite number of hockey teams that students can play on, none of them want to be on our team.”

“What does that say about me?” Frank says, and Gerard chuckles.

“We really need you,” Gerard replies. “You must see that.”

“I do,” Frank says.

“You’re beginning to turn the tides,” Gerard says, “just you wait.” Gerard doesn’t say it out loud, but he’s got a good feeling about the game tonight. This is the first time he’s felt this good going into a game this whole season. After last week’s horrific loss, Gerard wasn’t sure he was capable of feeling this good before a game again, but today is a different day. The team is already starting to improve, and it’s because of a lot of reasons. They’ve been changing up practices, getting in a lot of practice games too, which has really shown some of the strengths and weaknesses of the players. Also, Frank is doing an amazing job at inspiring change. Especially in Pete, and some of the other freshman like Ray and Brendon, Frank’s arrival has actually forced them to up their games, because they can all pretty much tell that if they don’t up their game they’re going to be outskated by Frank in a flash.

Frank makes the entire team better simply by being one of the best. It makes them all want to be on the same level as him, give him a player that he can actually play well with.

Morgan has displayed probably the most improvement and it’s not hard to tell why. Morgan wants to be better than Frank. Morgan is used to being the best, he has been for the four years he’s been on the team, he’s been so comfortable in his position as the best that he has fought with gritted teeth to continue to be. He just wants to be better than Frank, to show the team why he’s the one they look up to, not some puny little newbie like Frank.

Gerard may not like the motivations behind Morgan’s playing, but he sure as hell does love the results. Gerard doesn’t like Morgan, and the entire Morgan situation is a battle he’s been fighting in his head for four years now, ever since Morgan joined the team in the first fucking place. Morgan is a piece of shit, one of the most prominent assholes that the world has ever seen. An award-winning douchebag. But man, is he a good fucking hockey player. Gerard has debated what’s worse, not having a player as good as Morgan on the team or having to put up with Morgan’s asshole behavior. So far, even though Gerard has vaguely rallied to kick him off the team a few times, he has to admit, Morgan does give them some results. Most of the games that they’ve won the past four years, which is not very many, are because of Morgan. He may be an awful person but that doesn’t really outweigh what an asset he is.

Frank and Gerard head back into the locker room not long after they talk, and Gerard removes himself entirely from the room when Frank starts undressing because he doesn’t trust himself to not gawk at him, and he doesn’t want to be a pervert. It’s all well and good to fantasize about Frank naked, but to actually see him as such is a total abuse of his power. That’s also the main reason for why Gerard quit the team in the first place, he always felt like a dirty human being for merely being in the same room as half naked men when he is himself attracted to men. Even though he never looked, it still always felt weird and disrespectful.

Given how bad the other team is, the Green Knights head onto the ice later that night feeling more confident than they usually do, which is a dangerous thing.

It turns out, however, confidence is exactly what the team needs. Most of the game passes by with no event. It isn’t until the latter half of the second period until a goal is even scored, and everyone is dumbfounded to realize it’s Armstrong’s goal. It’s actually their goal.

Morgan is the one who scored the goal, and Frank, who would usually go over and give a pat on the back or a hug to anyone who scored a goal, does not do so. He doesn’t want to even think about hugging Morgan. Morgan scares him. Morgan would probably punch him in the face.

In the next period, the other team scores a goal, which ties the two up. Not long after, maybe four minutes of mostly continuous play, the Green Knights score another goal. The scorer is one of the guys that Frank has thus far spoken absolutely zero words to, who is named Kai, and is definitely on the more attractive end of the scale. He also doesn’t seem to be the evilest guy in the world which commendable for a player on this team considering how many satanic monsters are actually on it. Frank speaks his very first words to the guy when he jumps over the wall a few seconds later to say, “great goal, dude.”

Kai, who it must be said could melt a lesser soul with a smile, grins back at him, and surely does do something or other to Frank’s heartbeat when he replies with a, “thanks, man.”

Frank stutters for a few seconds, looks around, lays eyes on Gerard and then all the slight swoon like feelings he’d had for Kai a moment ago wash away to be replaced with similar feelings which are far more potent and paralyzing for Gerard. There are a lot of attractive guys on the team, and some of them are actually pretty nice, but they all pale in comparison to Gerard. It’s not that Gerard is even superior to the others, it’s just that, Gerard is Gerard and therefor better given the fact that he is himself. It’s like when you’re eating dark chocolate and then decide to take a bite of some milk chocolate. Like, dark chocolate is great and it’s awesome and you’d be an idiot to say you don’t like it but then you eat some milk chocolate and suddenly you remember how shit dark chocolate is in comparison. Gerard is the milk chocolate in that scenario. You just can’t beat him.

The team win with no more goals on the board than that. It’s a victory won by one, but it’s a victory all the same.

Frank couldn’t explain how it happens, because he must not have been thinking, but he somehow finds himself hugging Gerard at the end of the game. It’s just a thing that happens when you win a game, you hug your teammates, he’d hugged Pete only a second ago. He suddenly realizes though that this incredible, amazing, fantastic warmth comes from Gerard though, and that is a very very bad thing. It’s good, it’s beyond good, but the fact that it’s good is bad.

Gerard squeezes way too tightly, ecstatic to be holding Frank in his own fucking arms, ecstatic that this amazing, gorgeous, beautiful fucking boy is hugging him, and he wants it to never end. He wants to hug Frank for the rest of his life, and cuddle Frank and fuck him a little bit, but mostly cuddle him, and the fact that he has to let go a second later is heartbreaking.

Frank lets go after what he knows is too long, but he can’t bring himself to let go. He doesn’t even notice that Gerard won’t let go either. It’s way too long. It’s about ten seconds too long. A ‘we won the game’ hug shouldn’t be more than a few seconds but it ends up being like at least thirty seconds which is about twenty-seven seconds past the time when most boys would pull away and say “no homo.”

They do pull away though, and then they both uncomfortably pretend that nothing happened. Gerard pretends to become suddenly very interested in the ceiling while Frank pushes through the guys to find Ray and celebrate with him. They both decide to ignore it ever happening, or at least outwardly. Frank is definitely going to be thinking about that hug late at night for the next twenty years.

The team stays on the bench for a little too long celebrating, but it’s their very first win of the season so they deserve a break. It’s also an away game, which makes the victory a little bit more sweet, because away games are quite a bit harder to win, but they still did win. Now granted, both teams are pretty bad so the winner was pretty much up in the air, as there wasn’t a predictable outcome, but Frank is proud nonetheless. It’s a win, and they haven’t won any games until now, so now their average is slightly better than it had been a few hours ago, and that’s a little victory that they are willing to celebrate.

Piling into the locker room, Frank notices Patrick for the first time all night, and he walks over to him excitedly. He’s dripping with sweat and would really like to change and shower before they take off back home on another two-hour bus ride, but he wants to talk to Patrick a little bit before then.

Frank hasn’t had even close to enough time to squeeze in that interview for Patrick. Patrick asked him about it once in passing when he and Frank sat next to each other at lunch, but they haven’t made any concrete plans given how crammed Frank’s life is this week. He tells Patrick that they should be able to do it next week, given that Frank should be having a bit of a lull in his schedule by then, but he can’t be sure. He wants to do it soon, but also wants to postpone it for as long as possible. He is still adamant about doing the interview though, so time will only tell when it actually happens.

“Great game out there, man,” Patrick says to him, smiling ear to ear. The fact that they won means that the article Patrick does get to right will be so much better than a loss. When they win the game, he doesn’t have to try to swing it in a positive direction, he can just report what happened.

“I mean, it wasn’t that great, but we won, so who fucking cares, right?” Frank says, excitedly. He knows it’s not necessarily the most impressive win ever, certainly doesn’t hold a candle to the game Gerard’s father had won all those decades ago, but it was a win, and for Armstrong, any win is a surprise and a miracle.

“I’m still proud,” Patrick says. Frank wonders if he’s proud of the team or proud of Pete, because Morgan may have scored that first goal, but partial credit must go to Frank and Pete both for their assists.

“It feels good to finally win,” Frank says, exhilarated. His whole body has reacted to the joy, despite how unbelievably tired and sore he is. He can’t believe they’ve actually won a game though, half of Frank expected to go the whole year without any wins at all. Even the worst team wins from time to time, though.

It feels good to win again, it’s a feeling Frank is used to but it feels foreign to him now, because he has never won a game with these people by his side. Whenever Frank would win a game in high school, he’d hug his mom, they’d go out for dinner at like an Applebee’s to celebrate, then he’d go to school the next day, be congratulated by a few people he didn’t know and that was it. It feels weird celebrating as part of a team. Even though over half of the team don’t like him very much, they’re all still happy to win, and in the heat of the moment, you don’t care how you feel about each other because you just won, you won together. Unless of course your Morgan in which case your smile is barely there, your eyebrows are still shit your pants terrifying and you only congratulate a select few of fellow demonic creatures. Or at least, that’s what Frank has convinced himself they are. Morgan is Satan and the other guys on the team are his demons from hell.

“So, about that article,” Frank starts quietly.

“Frank, you don’t need to be pressured to do it, like, right now. It’s a busy week for you guys, I don’t expect it, or even want to write it until next week at the earliest. You’ve just won a game, and you’re going to win the one on Friday too, I can just feel it. I want to focus on that for now.”

Frank makes a face when Patrick says he thinks they’re going to win their next game, but he doesn’t say anything of it. They’re playing a much better team on Friday, and that’s only two days away, two night of sleep, which feels entirely too soon considering how exhausted Frank is right now, and how much more tired he’s sure to be tomorrow with the extra work he’s going to have to do and another long practice. Right now, Frank chooses not to think about how this game will likely be a fluke in their thoroughly unimpressive season, and decides to instead feel happy and proud of it. They probably will have a bad season, not much different from the seasons of their past, but right now, Frank’s just glad to be celebrating for once instead of grieving.

Some tiny voice in the back of his mind is also overly happy to have finally given Gerard a reason to be proud of the team. Frank wants his contribution to this team to be anything to make Gerard smile the way he’s smiling right now. Gerard deserves all that Frank can give him, and he will put every fiber of his being into making sure this team gets as far as it can. He will do whatever if it makes Gerard happy even for a moment. This win is a step in the right direction.

Notes

So this was actually going to be a really, really, REALLY long chapter, but I decided to split this chapter in half so the good news is that you guys can expect another update this weekend! Yay!