All We Need is Daylight

“Oh gosh, fuck,” Frank frowns when he opens his phone first thing Friday morning to read the one text message he has. One text in the morning is more than Frank usually has given how few people like him. Every now and then, he’ll wake up to a text from Pete that is either fake deep or meant to be a joke, usually both simultaneously. It’s the kind of text you could only ever receive from Pete, or from a drunk person. Pete’s got the personality, energy, and appearance of the drug addict friend, but without the drugs. Ray is the mom friend. Frank doesn’t even know what you’d call Patrick, if Ray is the mom, then Patrick’s the grandma. Frank likes to think of himself as the gay cousin.

“What?” Ray asks.

“My, uh, my mom is coming to the game tonight,” Frank says, frowning as he reads her text. She only lives about an hour’s drive away from Armstrong, but her schedule is usually busier than even Frank’s, especially on Fridays when she rarely ever makes it home before about nine. Frank doesn’t hold that against her, he definitely doesn’t, because she attends games whenever she possibly can, which so far has been none this year. In high school, it wasn’t nearly as hard for her to come see him, given that the school was a two-minute drive away from their house or a five to ten-minute walk. Now, it’s quite a bit more of a commitment for her to drive down to Armstrong.

She still doesn’t entirely understand hockey, but she’s got the gist of it. She knows that when Frank hits the puck into the other guy’s net, that’s a good thing. Other than that, her knowledge is a bit fuzzy, but she is nothing if not supportive.

The problem is, Frank doesn’t want his mom to waste like half a day of her life to come see Frank’s team lose. He wants her to remember him as the hockey player who won almost every single game he played, not the guy who loses most of them. He wishes he could just hold onto his winning streak from high school and not have to force her to watch him inevitably lose.

“So, is that a bad thing?” Ray asks.

“Uh, I mean, no. I miss her a lot, but, like, I don’t want her to drive all that way to see me lose.”

“Oh, yeah, I get it,” Ray nods, and when Ray nods his hair nods too which makes it a sight to behold.

“She’ll be proud either way, I know she will, but I want to show her that what I’m doing is what I should be doing, you know? She’s supportive of me now when I’m just playing hockey in school, but she’s not overly keen on me ‘wasting’ my potential by playing hockey for the rest of my life. I just want to show her that I should be doing it for the rest of my life, I can’t do that if she shows up to watch a game that I lose.”

“Well, then here’s a plan,” Ray says, “let’s not lose tonight.”

“Oh, thank you so very much for your ingenious idea.”

“Happy to help,” Ray says, to which Frank responds by throwing a shirt at him which Ray catches, with the lightning quick reflexes he has acquired from being constantly bombarded with Frank throwing things at him.

“Fuck you,” Frank says, but Ray just shrugs, as if to say, ‘all in a day’s work.’

Friday is not one of his more difficult days as far as school goes, so much of it goes by quickly. Quickly enough that Frank has several hours before the game starts to hang out in the hockey rink and dwell on various things. Mostly he thinks about how awful it’s going to be when his mom gets here tonight and has to watch him lose. After all the pain and torment that this scholarship and college in general have put him through just for hockey and she’s going to have to watch Frank’s dream, which is hockey, all crumble apart in front of her very eyes. It’s going to suck.

Frank has been regretting coming to this school at all for the past few days. For some reason, it got worse after they had won that game on Wednesday. All the things that made him come here are starting to become less and less ideal right about now. He’s saving a lot of money, sure, but for what? If he joins the NHL he’ll be able to pay off his student debts by his first or second season alone. Why is he even here? The NHL isn’t going to be looking at Armstrong, surely not when there are so many better schools, schools that have a higher rate of NHL graduates. Schools like Boston, which have a far more numerous track record. In one year alone there’s probably about ten players across the NHL who came from Boston, compared to the measly one who has graduated from Armstrong and is currently in the NHL, joining the all-time total which is about the same as the yearly total of Boston graduates in the NHL. Why on earth would Frank give up a spotlight like the one Boston gave him for money that he’ll likely be able to make up for in five years anyway? Professional hockey pays as exponentially as other sports, why did he ever leave the school that gave him that incomparable edge?

Now that Frank looks back on it, his decision was stupid. His decision was beyond stupid, it’s plain old moronic. He got into one of the best schools in the country and gave it all up for one of the worst. Why would he do that?

Frank has to remind himself that he is technically playing it safe. There is a chance that he will never make it into the NHL no matter what school he goes to. Yes, Boston would give him an edge that Armstrong will not, but what if it doesn’t matter what school he goes to, they don’t want him either way? It’s actually a statistically significant chance. It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say Frank is more likely not to make it then it is for him to make it. Yeah, he’s a fucking good player, but so are hundreds of other players out there. If college hockey is exclusive, the word hasn’t been invented yet for the exclusivity of the NHL. You don’t just make it on a whim. You’ve got to be one of the best hockey players in the world. Frank can’t bet with any real certainty that he is such. The additional money he’d be spending at Boston could end up being disastrous to his future if he doesn’t make it into the NHL. At Armstrong, if he doesn’t make it, he’ll at least be able to survive afterwards.

But Frank wants to be in the NHL more than anything in the world. He wants to be a hockey player. He doesn’t necessarily want his name in lights or to have hundreds or even thousands of people wearing his jersey. That’s not what he wants. He just wants to be able to look back on his life and say that he touched the Stanley cup. He wants to have that, one of the greatest honors a human can possibly have, he wants that honor to belong to him.

Frank just feels regret; corrosive, painful regret. He’s given up so much to be here, and there’s a chance that it might have been too much.

However, Frank has gotten a lot out of Armstrong, and it’s only been three weeks. Frank didn’t have any friends at Boston. Boston was about four times bigger, with a bigger team, better players, all of which were quite a bit more egotistical, and didn’t give two shits about Frank. Frank may have been one of the best at Boston, that was clear from the get go, but he wasn’t really accepted into any circles there. The only person who would even casually talk to him was his roommate who didn’t even know how to play hockey.

Here, though, Frank’s got more friends than he’s ever had in his entire life. He’s got like six times the number of friends he’s ever had. Now granted, six times one is six, but for Frank that is a lot of friends.

He’s also one of the best players on this team. He was one of the best at Boston, but it’s far more obvious here. His skills are given a more prominent opportunity to shine.

Frank also has an enormous crush which can be construed as both a good and a bad thing. Boston had some damn fine looking dudes, but since none of them ever actually talked to him, he didn’t develop a crush on any of them, or at least, not one that he hasn’t easily forgotten since leaving. Gerard is something else. Gerard is made of stars, and sunlight. Gerard was probably made by God to torture Frank, show him what he can’t have, but he’s well worth it.

At Armstrong, Frank’s got a nicer coach, and technically speaking a nicer assistant coach too, except for when they’re actually playing, but nevertheless, a good guy. The team isn’t as good by a long shot, but it’s components are more to Frank’s taste. The players, the coaches, even the town in which this school is. All of them are superior to Boston.

Then again, at Boston, no one hated Frank’s guts. On this team itself, he’s got about five people who would probably step on his fingers if he were hanging off the edge of a cliff, four who actually like him, and then the rest are somewhere in the middle. That still leaves Frank with below half of the team not hating him, which is not ideal.

Frank’s not feeling very good about the game tonight. He can feel the defeat in his bones, which makes him more tired than he really is. He misses Boston, even if he kind of hated it there. He misses the fact that he was going somewhere there, but here he’s stuck in the sand.

“Frank?” Gerard asks, walking into the lobby, holding a cup of coffee, because when the fuck isn’t he? Gerard is probably the only person in the world who drinks more coffee than a college student.

“Hmm?”

“You look, like, super depressed. What’s up?”

Frank shrugs, and decides to admit the truth, “I think I made a mistake, Gerard.”

“What kind of mistake?”

“Coming here.”

“What do you mean?” Gerard asks, not sure he likes where this is headed.

“I just… I’m not going to go anywhere coming from this place. Why on earth would the NHL look at me? No one cares about this godforsaken school. Why the fuck am I even here?”

“Oh,” Gerard says, frowning. That’s definitely not the kind of thing he wants to hear, especially not from arguably the best player on the team.

“I just, I feel like I shouldn’t be here,” Frank says.

“Well,” Gerard sighs, and walks over to take a seat next to Frank. “Is it… is it too late to go back?” Gerard inquires, though he hates asking it. He’d probably cry for a solid three or more hours, then off and on for like eight months if Frank were to leave. He loves Frank being here, there’s literally no negatives, apart from the fact that Gerard’s heart aches a little bit, but that’s something he’s willing to put up with if it means Frank’s here. With Frank, the team is better. With Frank, Gerard smiles a whole lot more, and he actually has a friend in him, which makes Gerard’s life better. Gerard loves having Frank around, he’s funny, opinionated, interesting, and just an all-around great person. Frank makes the whole town a little bit brighter.

“I… I don’t know,” Frank replies. “I mean, I’ve already paid my tuition for Boston, technically. Or at least, for this first semester. I don’t know if it’s too late to go back to the school itself, but it’s probably too late for me to rejoin the team. When I gave up on that, that’s not something I can just take back. When I left, probably about fifty guys all wanted, and were good enough, to take my place. I gave up on something monumental, something I doubt I can get back.”

“I’m sorry,” Gerard says, and he kind of is. He’s not happy that Frank wants to leave, but he feels dreadful because of the fact that Frank does. Frank’s emotions are contagious, or at least, for Gerard they are. Gerard would hate to see Frank leave, but if it’s what he wants then Gerard will encourage him to do whatever. Gerard hopes to be his friend for as long as he possible can be, and if Frank decides to leave this school and go back to Boston, even if it would break his heart clean in two, he’d still tell Frank to follow his dreams.

“Why?” Frank asks. “You should be the last person in the world who would want me to leave.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, if you left, we’d plummet. We’d probably lose more morale than we can afford to. I don’t even know if the team would be able to make it through to the end of the season, we might just have to pull out. But, like, Frank, this team isn’t your life. You don’t need to let us ruin what you want. If what you want is to go back to Boston, I’ll encourage you to, because it’s your life. It’s not mine to live, you’re the one who’s going to have to face your decisions.”

“Ugh,” Frank sighs, “you’re a fucking asshole.”

“What?” Gerard asks, surprised, because he thought he was being nice.

“You heard me. You’re an enormous asshole. I’m sitting here basically shitting on all of your dreams and there you are, just encouraging me to do so. You should be punching me in the face or pouring hot coffee over my head, not trying to talk me into it.”

“I mean, it’s your life, don’t let other people live through it,” Gerard replies.

“There you go again, dick weed.”

“Oh man, I can’t win with you,” Gerard says, and Frank laughs, which makes Gerard feel a little better. Frank’s laughter is like if you could bottle up that rainy day by a fireplace feeling. That one you get when you’re watching a movie or sitting by a fire while a storm rages outside, wrapped up in a blanket and protected from the world around you. He’s like that feeling of when someone makes you laugh, like really laugh, the kind of blistering, gut tingling, almost painful, guttural laugh. Frank is like that feeling of when you fall asleep in someone’s arms.

“I don’t think they’ll have me back,” Frank says. “Even if that is what I want, and I don’t know that it is, it’s not what I can have.”

“Maybe you could go back next year?” Gerard says. “You’d probably have to get accepted all over again, and it may not be easy to win them back, but with the way you play, they’d have to be idiots to say no to you. They’d just treat you like an incoming freshman, I bet.”

“Do you think so?” Frank asks.

“I don’t see why not,” Gerard says. “I know this school is way different to Boston, we’re not nearly as nitpicky, but like, they know how good you play, they let you in once, didn’t they? Why would they say no to you if it’s a new season? I guess it makes sense that they wouldn’t want you back right now, but when it’s a new season, schools just take the best hockey players they can get, no matter the circumstances.”

“I don’t know,” Frank says, but he’s starting to like the way Gerard’s thinking. He could go back in a year. It might actually end up being what he does. He doesn’t want to make any decisions yet, but if he were to go back, waiting a year would be the way to do it. Boston might still have him back, and if they do, then his road to the NHL will become a lot easier. He’ll be switching from a dirt path to a well paved road. It’s a possibility. Now that Gerard’s brought it up, it seems like an ingenious idea. Frank shouldn’t have left that school in the first place, but if they would let him back in, it may be a way to erase the mistake of coming here.

It’s something to consider.

“You should do whatever you feel is right,” Gerard says, somberly. What Gerard wants is not as important as what Frank wants. Gerard wants Frank, wants him close, wants him on the team, wants Frank to be his. But if he can’t have any of those things, then the next best thing is for Frank to do what he wants. Really, it’s only Gerard’s selfishness that prevents him from liking what’s best for him.

Gerard is selfish, of course he is. If Frank is close, he gets to spend time with him. If Frank is on the team, they become so much closer to winning a title. If Frank is here, there’s the faintest glimmer of a chance, even though it’s still probably nonexistent, but something of a chance that Frank might someday love him back. That last goal is nothing more than a dream, but in his own mind it makes sense. Frank’s never going to fall for him if he’s a hundred miles away playing for another team, in more ways than one. Here, Gerard can keep an eye on him, be as irresistible as he is capable of being.

Gerard doesn’t want him to leave, in fact, Frank leaving would probably be the worst thing that’s ever happened to him aside from when he quit hockey. But it’s Frank’s life, and Gerard knows that he’s going to have to accept and live with that fact.

“Gerard,” Frank says, taking a deep breath and then looking into his eyes, which is a mistake and it makes Frank’s words stop in his throat. What he wouldn’t give to kiss this boy right here and now, and just really fucking go for it. Like, he’d probably push Gerard up against a wall and climb him like a tree if he could, but since he can’t, looking deeply into those eyes of his makes everything so much worse.

“Yeah?” Gerard says, feeling much the same as Frank, because those big brown eyes are going to be the death of him without a doubt.

“You’re a… a, uh, oh you know,” Frank says, and then brushes off whatever he had been about to say.

“An enormous asshole, I believe were your words?” Gerard offers.

“No, not that,” Frank shakes his head, “I mean, like, you’re a really, really… great, person. You’re supportive when you shouldn’t be, and you’re always so nice to me, without a particularly good reason for why. You’re just decent. More than decent. Amazing.”

“Amazing enough to make you stay?” Gerard asks, hopefully.

“That’s a question for another day,” Frank replies, because he is a little too conflicted to even begin to make any plans like that right now. Right now, he needs to focus on the game tonight, and deal with the fact that his mom is going to be there.

As much as Frank wants to spend some more time with Gerard, he decides it’s not a good idea. Gerard’s eyes are a little droopy and his smile isn’t entirely there, which means that Frank needs to escape the doubt that Gerard instills inside of him. Frank makes an excuse about needing to study, and then runs off in the direction of Pete’s dorm with the hope that maybe Pete’s absolutely ridiculous personality will be able to distract him from all the new emotions inside of him, which are joining the dread and regret he’d already had. Gerard keeps fucking him up.

Pete, who senses something is wrong, but doesn’t want to make Frank uncomfortable by asking him what, wastes time by forcing Frank to play board games. It kind of works, if he’s being honest. Frank wins most of the games, even the ones that Pete says he’s good at, and it’s clear that Pete’s not even throwing the games, he’s literally just that shitty at Clue. Pete’s about as good at board games as Wil Wheaton.

The time spent playing games is enough to bring them to a place where they need to head down to the locker room, but Frank only further dreads what’s about to come. The games had taken his mind off of it for a while, but now that worry and guilt is back at full force. He can feel it in his very bones that they’re going to lose. It’s a negativity that he tries never to let himself feel, but it’s made all the worse given the audience he knows is going to be watching. His mom being there is just going to make everything he feels so much more awful.

He changes into his gear, and chats with some of the other guys for a few minutes. Gerard is nowhere to be seen. He hasn’t actually seen Gerard since he ran away from him earlier in the afternoon, which Frank hopes is just a coincidence and not an indicator as to how much he hurt Gerard’s feelings with his talk of wanting to leave. Frank doesn’t dare mention his internal debate to any of the guys, because he doesn’t want them to think he’s abandoning them until he himself actually knows if he is. He probably won’t make any solid decision on that for several months, so he need not worry anyone more than Gerard. One person is enough, especially considering how depressed it made the one person that he did tell.

When it becomes time for their warm up, Frank takes the ice after the rest of the team, and he of course, searches around the rink to spot his mother, who’s probably here by now, or will be soon. He spots Gerard first, sitting on their bench, not looking entirely invested in what’s going on around him, and with that same thinly veiled morose look on his face. Frank doesn’t focus too much on this, because he knows it’ll hurt him to know how much he hurt the guy he likes.

Frank doesn’t need more than a few seconds to find his mom, he’d recognize his mother from up in an airplane. Also, it helps that there’s only like ten people in total in the stands so far, and this number is likely to only go up a couple dozen when the game actually starts.

Frank immediately notices that something is off when he looks at the person sitting right beside his mother, who’s having friendly conversation with her. Frank stops on the ice for a few seconds, then moves a few inches over to get a good look at the girl’s face. He has to think for about a fraction of a second to place where he’s seen her face before, but it doesn’t take long for him to figure it out.

Frank’s not sure if he’s excited or petrified by the presence of her, but he knows that at the very least what he needs to do right now is skate over and say hi.

Ignoring the judgmental glare that Gerard is cutting into the back of his head because of Frank not warming up, Frank skates the distance between himself and where his mother sits, which is near to the wall, as it’s not very hard to get a front row seat to a hockey game that no one else is attending.

“Frankie!” His mom says the second she sees him, and Frank blushes, because not living with his mom has meant that he hasn’t been called Frankie in nearly two months, which is quite a long time for him. She’s the only one who’s ever called him Frankie, and he’d really like to keep it that way. It’s almost been a relief.

He wishes he could hug her, he honestly misses his mom more than he would care to admit, but the glass is in the way of them, which is probably good because he’d get so much shit from the guys for hugging his mom.

“Hey, ma,” Frank says, mostly in passing, because he turns his attention instead to the girl he hasn’t seen in about five years. “Hayley?” He knows that his mother is more important, because of the fact that she is his mother, but he sees her way more often, and talks to her at least twice a week.

“Hey Frank!” She says, looking down at him excitedly. Frank may be the shortest person he knows, but he is at least taller than Hayley. However, when she’s a few feet above him because of the elevated seating, it doesn’t change his perspective of the world much, because he’s used to being shorter than everyone.

“What are you doing here?” Frank asks, because Hayley left town several years before he ever even got to show her how much she’d taught him.

Hayley was Frank’s neighbor when he was a kid. She’s the girl who taught him to skate. Everything he knows, he learned it from watching her. She never played hockey, but she did sort of introduce Frank to that as well. Part of him wonders if she knew that he would be embarrassed about figure skating, and that’s why she watched hockey with him. Frank’s never asked her about it, because he hasn’t seen her in a while, close to five years. She won a few gold medals, nothing overly prestigious, they were only statewide competitions, but then she moved away, and Frank hasn’t seen her since. He’s kind of wanted to show her what he’s become, let her know that he actually took what she taught him to heart, but he’s also a little bit terrified of her judging him for not being as good as her. He’s never going to see himself as any better than she is. To him, she’s the best in the world, even if he’s the only person who recognizes it.

Before she left though, Frank told her that he quit figure skating, because no one could know that secret apart from his mom. He’s kind of avoided her since then, which meant that he never got a proper goodbye. It’s been a long time since he last saw Hayley, and an even longer time still since he’s felt the courage to look her in the eye.

Hayley is as gorgeous as she usually is, which is to say, very much so. She’s always been that pretty, to Frank’s knowledge. Growing up so close to her, it’s a wonder he’s gay.

“I was in town,” she says, “your mom told me you still played hockey, and I couldn’t say no to actually getting to see you play! I’ve missed you, Frank, and I can’t wait to see how far you’ve come.”

“I, I mean, we’re not very good,” Frank says, blushing. He doesn’t want his mom to see him lose, but if there’s anything that could be worse than that, it’s Hayley seeing him lose. This is the girl who taught him how to fucking skate in the first place, if he fails in front of her, he’ll feel like he’s let her down. It’ll almost be a reflection on her if he’s not good enough.

“You won your last game!” Hayley says, and Frank wishes she didn’t know that, because he doesn’t want her to have high expectations. If she expects more from him, that’ll just mean that she’ll fall from a lot higher when they lose.

“Well, we played against a pretty bad team,” Frank replies.

“You’re just being modest,” his mom says, “Frankie’s the best hockey player in the whole world.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re my mom,” Frank says, and they all know it’s the truth. Frank may be a good player, but he’s certainly not the best.

“I never claimed to be unbiased,” she shrugs off.

“Frank!” A voice yells from behind him, and Frank turns to see Gerard giving him the stink eye for socializing when he should be practicing for the game which is actually going to happen soon. They’ve only got ten minutes to warm up, and Frank’s already wasted about two minutes blabbing, which is way more than just frowned upon, especially by Gerard. Gerard is already at an uncomfortable standing with Frank because of earlier, the last thing he should be doing is pissing him off.

“Oh, you should go,” Hayley says, trying to shoo him away when she sees Gerard who definitely looks pissed off.

“Yeah, he’ll tear my head off for sure,” Frank says.

“We’ll talk after the game, though, okay?” Hayley asks. Frank sort of nods and sort of shrugs. He’d like to catch up with her, but he’s also a little bit nervous about making any promises when he doesn’t know how the game will turn out for him. He’ll have a lot of trouble even being near her if they lose. Hayley doesn’t deserve to have to watch him lose, she deserves more from him.

Frank skates away from them, does a few laps around the rink to reacquaint himself with the familiar feel of the ice below his feet. He glances at Gerard, who is still staring daggers at him. Gerard is in a very precarious mood, so it’s best not to tempt fate.

“Dude, is that your girl?” Ray asks when Frank stops in the same general vicinity of where Ray is stood. Ray is looking across what is practically the entire rink to gawk at her. Hayley does have a face worthy of gawking.

“What?” Frank asks.

“The girl! You know, the one you like!”

“What?” Frank asks, looking petrified at the mere question. It turns him bright fucking pink too, because he can’t even imagine Ray thinking of them like that. Hayley’s quite a bit older than him, and also, way too fucking good for him. She also feels a little bit more like a sister than anything else. That and Frank’s gay, but still. Frank shakes his head animatedly saying, “No, no, she’s not, no!”

“She is!” Ray says, “you’re blushing, oh my god. Can’t say I blame you though, I mean gosh, who wouldn’t be in love with a girl like that?”

“No!” Frank says, getting even pinker which is impressive because he doesn’t have any skin left that’s not blushed. He actually feels himself growing warm, and feels like his hockey gear is an oven, because he’s starting to heat up more than he does when he attends a five-hour hockey practice. It can’t be healthy, he looks like an angry beet.

Gerard, who’s standing directly behind the two of them in his spot in the box, feels something a little bit like fire and a little bit like loathing at the conversation he shouldn’t be eavesdropping on. Gerard feels like he could totally punch someone right about now. Either Frank or, the girl he likes or Ray, or just whoever happens to be standing next to him.

Gerard is already in a mood, this is definitely not helping. He’s pissed off at Frank’s lack of practicing right now, sad that Frank might be leaving, and now ragingly jealous of a girl who he doesn’t know. It’s made all the worse by how fucking gorgeous she is. Gerard knows it’s selfish of him, but he’d really prefer it if whoever Frank likes or dates is either ugly or an asshole, because it means that Gerard will know he’s better. When his competition is a girl like that, it just sucks. It’s not a competition, though, when he’s not even a contender.

It’s not like Gerard didn’t see this coming. Frank is an attractive guy in college on a sports team. Even if it’s not a good sports team, ‘attractive college jock’ is a giant magnet for pretty girls. It’s probably the most perfect a boy can be. Also, Frank’s a hormonal teenager, and yeah, Gerard’s not gonna lie, that girl is prettier than almost anyone Gerard’s ever seen, but that doesn’t stop him from hating her with every fiber of his being. He also kind of wants to be her, because for Frank to have a crush on him would be everything in the world and more to him.

Gerard doesn’t think he’s ever been this jealous of anyone in his life. He also doesn’t remember liking someone as much as likes Frank, which would explain a few things. It’s probably cause most of the guys on the hockey team are these big bulky brainless ones, all of whom with the personality of a piece of cheese. Frank’s got this rich personality and this really fantastic face, and the cutest smile, and honestly if it’s anyone’s fault that Gerard likes him it’s Frank’s. If Frank hadn’t been so beautiful and adorable and sweet, none of this would’ve happened. Fuck Frank. Literally.

That doesn’t do much to console Gerard however. He cannot focus on anything during the rest of the warmup. His eyes just keep glancing at the girl across the rink, and then to Frank. What does she have that Gerard doesn’t? It pisses him off. He’s not in a particularly good mood when the team all crowd back into the locker room ten minutes later. He feels like he’s ready to get into a fencing match or something, or offer Frank’s mom a bunch of goats for his hand. Or carry a pig up a mountain.

Gerard even struggles to maintain focus when the game actually starts. It’s about three minutes into the clock before he even realizes that they’ve already started. He actually has to shake himself out of his trance in order to tune his brain into the game, which thankfully is still nothing to nothing.

Gerard gets distracted a few more times, though, thinking about how much he wishes things were different. He wishes Frank didn’t want to leave, wishes he wasn’t crazy about Frank, wishes Frank were gay, wishes he were a girl so Frank could be attracted to him, wishes so many illogical things. Anything that would get him Frank. He’s up for literally anything if it means that Frank might be attracted to him, even for a second.

Gerard would be so good to him, honestly no one else would ever treat Frank better than he would. Frank doesn’t know what he’s missing out on. Gerard’s missing out on more, but still, he would be the best boyfriend by a mile if Frank were his.

Frank feels more eyes than usual on him, which makes the game a little more difficult. He feels so many people watching him, feels his mom, Hayley, even Gerard, and probably everyone else in the rink because he’s the one with the puck. It actually kind of drives him more than usual though, because knowing how many people are watching him only makes him try harder. He wants to prove something to all of these people, everyone in the room who’s watching him, he wants them to be watching him for a reason.

Frank passes the puck to Pete, repositions himself in a better angle, and Pete gives the puck back with perfect timing. Frank doesn’t think too hard about it before he’s shooting and praying that he’s about to prove himself to every single pair of eyes on him.

A moment later, Frank feels that same elated feeling you get when you get a hole in one on a golf course. The puck misses the goal, but it bumps the inside of the goaltender’s skate, and unfortunately for the other team, this causes it to ricochet into the net. Frank throws his hands up into the air at the sight of it, unabashedly happy to have the first goal of the night under his belt. It’s the first game the Green Knights have played this season where they have scored the first goal in the game.

It surprises the other team, quite visibly. They’re one of the better teams in the division so far this season, though for the life of him, Frank cannot actually remember where they’re from. He knows they’re one of those little teams that would probably be on everyone’s radar if they came from a school like Harvard, but since it’s a little rich kid school they’re practically as unknown as Armstrong, neither of which are in the big ten. Nationally ranked, Armstrong would probably come in around fifty-five or so out of sixty.

Nevertheless, the other team is a good one, and they definitely should not have been scored on at all by the Green Knights, let alone in the first ten minutes of the first period.

Play continues when Frank takes a seat on the bench a few moments later, feeling particularly proud of himself when he looks up at the board to see the bright red one next to his team’s name. If anything, at least Hayley and his mom will be able to see that Frank scored, or at least, kind of scored, the first goal of the game. It would be a better feeling if he’d hit the puck directly into the net, but he’ll take the credit wherever he can get it.

There aren’t any more goals in the first period, which can be construed as a good thing, when Frank realizes that they’re technically winning. That’s sure not to be the truth for long, but they’re winning now and that counts for something when the next period starts. It actually pumps a little bit of confidence into the team when they get out there. Even Mikey, who is the most pessimistic hockey player that the world has ever seen, actually looks a little bit more energized when he’s out there. It says something, quite a bit really, about how good of a team they’re actually capable of being if they believe in themselves. Being a goal ahead really gives them that feeling.

Frank’s not on the ice when it happens, but about halfway into the second period, Travie hits a goal cleanly into the net, between the knees of the goaltender. It’s a little bit surreal, it’s one of those goals that even a blind person could tell is a goal, but it also doesn’t seem like it actually just happened, because it means that they’re winning by two, which just doesn’t seem possible for this team.

Frank doesn’t have time to congratulate Travie after the goal, because he’s darting onto the ice a second later, ready for the play to begin again. Maybe they’re just skating on a thin thread of confidence because not a minute passes before Pete and Morgan make one of the most peculiar goals Frank’s ever seen. Pete takes a shot on the left, the opposing goaltender pushing it away, so eager to get the puck away from the goal that it flies cleanly into Morgan’s stick who shoots it directly back at the net, to the right of the goaltender who’s left it practically empty after the other save.

It’s a little bit ridiculous if you ask Frank, almost exactly midway through the game and they are now beating a team which is definitely better than them three to zero. Three to zero! This team probably hasn’t had that happen in like five years. They probably haven’t even won a game by more than one since Frank was still in middle school. He’s a little in awe.

Frank’s excitement doesn’t ebb away, and it’s infectious. In fact, the entire team seems to only get more inspired as the game goes on. Ray blocks so many shots that Frank can’t even keep track of them, and neither it seems can the commentator. Ray’s unstoppable. Frank, Pete and Morgan are pretty deadly too, as when it comes to their turns on the ice, they don’t give the other team more than a few seconds with the puck at all. Frank takes a couple shots, both of them blocked unfortunately, but they get control of the puck so quickly after each that he just makes another. He’s on a roll, he’s wearing down the goalie enough that when they make a line change, there’s a good chance the goalie will be too worn out to stop another goal.

Frank’s proven correct when he switches with the next line, and Frank sees something that he’s sure he hasn’t seen before. Mikey, who Frank would probably say is one of the weakest players on the team, even despite how much he likes the guy, actually makes a fucking goal. Mikey Way, the guy who Gerard yells at more than probably anybody else, the guy who struggles to make a goal during warmups, the guy who Frank constantly wonders why he’s even on the team, Mikey fucking Way, actually makes an actual goal. It’s practically unassisted as well, the other two guys are of no help to him at all.

Gerard, whose been in the business of moping around about the whole Frank thing for most of the game, even despite their three, and now four goal lead, goes fucking bananas when Mikey scores his goal. He’s jumping up and down, looking around excitedly at all the guys on the bench behind him, making sure they know that Mikey’s his brother, repeating it over and over again.

When Mikey jumps over the wall, Gerard hugs him, maybe a little bit too hard, because Mikey has to physically push him away after a few seconds, and then put his hand to his chest as he tries to breathe, all the while Frank watching over at the two of them looking amused. Gerard can be really hard on him, way harder than Mikey really deserves, and Frank knows it’s because they’re brothers, but still, it’s really nice seeing Gerard so proud of him after all the time that Frank has seen of Gerard being a bit of a dick to him.

It makes Frank’s heart hurt a little bit more, because he can’t fucking take it with Gerard. Gerard is so stupidly adorable, and he’s such a dork, and he’s so excited that his own brother made a goal, and his reaction to it is probably the only thing that could make Frank feel better about this game than he already does. He went into this game feeling like shit, but now here is with almost certainty that they’re going to win. There’s a little less than ten minutes still on the clock of the second period and they are now winning four to zero which is unheard of for this team. Frank isn’t even accustomed to it, because he usually dominated other teams back in high school, but rarely by this much.

Frank looks over at Hayley and his mom, who both look excited, and Frank smiles widely when he realizes how well this game is going, and how awesome it is that this is the game that they chose to attend. He actually starts to look forward to talking to Hayley later if this is the game that he’s going to be talking to her about, because this game is going great. They’re sweeping the floor with the other team, and Frank actually scored one of the goals.

Frank also looks at Patrick, who’s on the same side of the rink as them, which means he has to crane his neck to spot him. Patrick is watching the game intently, scribbling things every now and then onto the yellow notepad in his lap. Patrick looks over, as if feeling Frank’s eyes on him, and they make eye contact for a fraction of a second before Frank has to look away. Frank remembers Patrick’s prediction the other night about how they were going to win this game, and he’s excited to admit that Patrick might have been right, and he was wrong. He was so sure this game would turn sour, but here he is and it’s going amazingly.

Frank doesn’t have time to think too much on it, because he’s on the ice ten seconds later. It’s an uneventful shift, nothing exciting happens, good or bad, and he switches with Mikey’s line about a minute later. Mikey actually looks like a completely different player on the ice the next time he’s up, like he’s been possessed by an actually good hockey player, which is something new for Mikey’s playing abilities. It makes Frank wonder if Mikey has always been that good and it’s his bad attitude which has lead Frank to believe that he sucks.

By the time that the second period ends, the score hasn’t changed, which is an incredibly good thing for them to start out the third and last period under. Starting the final third of the game being up by four is probably the best situation to be in, especially for this team. When they’re up by that much, it actually makes them work harder, which is counter to what most hockey teams do when they’re winning. In the NHL, it’s not uncommon to see one team dominate in the first half, but then grow so pompous and arrogant from their standing that their whole team is weakened by too much confidence. Frank’s seen teams pull the rug out from other team’s countless times because of things like that.

This team is not like that though. This team only becomes more fueled when they’re winning, and he thinks it’s because they’re so used to losing that not losing means that they actually try harder because they want to retain their score. This team cannot afford to have circles skated around them, which means they’re only more on guard when they’re winning.

By the end of the game, it proves to be enough. The opposing team, who seem to have adopted the usual Armstrong attitude, which is to say, give up when you’re down, only score one measly goal, and it’s in the last three minutes of the clock. It’s not even a goal they should be particularly proud of, it just slips in sort of by accident. It’s not enough, not nearly enough. When the horn sounds for the end of the game, the Green Knights have won by three, in one of their most successful games of the past five years.

Frank, who had originally dreaded the idea of hanging out with Hayley later, so sure that he was going to lose the game, now feels like it had been his idea in the first place. He feels like he’s just put five years back into his life, like he’s had a majority of the stress in his body sucked right out of him.

Frank’s so excited at the end of the game that he skates over to talk to his mom and Hayley. Hayley congratulates him, teases him for trying to insinuate they were bad after the demonstration she’s just witnessed that contradicts that. Frank really wants to wrap his arms around her or his mom, mostly his mom, because Frank’s always been a bit of a mama’s boy.

Gerard, who only a moment ago, had been celebrating with the rest of the team about the game, which they had more than deserved, suddenly feels like a bomb has dropped in his stomach when he looks over at Frank. Gerard was so excited, part of him might still be, only it’s far more overshadowed. It’s not even what you would call jealousy at this point, it’s just sadness. Gerard doesn’t even think he’s jealous of the girl anymore, he’s just so sad that that it’s not him who Frank likes. It’s awful, it’s shitty, the pain of it is stronger than the elation of winning the game. He just wants Frank so goddamn much, wants him like a man lost in the desert wants water. It’s an indescribable, unspeakable pain that is all throughout his body, not just in his heart.

He wants Frank to be over here, celebrating their victory with him, maybe hugging him again and severely fucking up Gerard’s sleep patterns like the last time they hugged. Gerard tastes something bitter in his mouth, and craves for Frank to make it go away.

To make matters worse, Gerard remembers how Frank might leave. He might be leaving as early as the end of the year, and with only a season spent with Gerard, less in fact considering that he started late. Gerard can’t fathom the pain of him leaving, especially considering how much closer to each other they’re sure to be eight months from now. Frank is on his way to becoming Gerard’s best friend, if he does become his best friend, Gerard doesn’t know how he’s going to manage with him leaving. He wishes Frank had never shared his uncertainty with him. Gerard thinks he’d rather be abruptly surprised by Frank’s departure than have to live with the inevitability of it for nearly a year.

Gerard’s body has a physical reaction to it. His shoulders sag, his face falls, and his eyes seem to grow darker as he looks over at Frank who’s so happy and excited, but not with him. He wants to be that too, he wants to be celebrating and hugging the rest of the guys, patting his brother on the back for scoring a goal, grinning back at Pete whose face probably couldn’t get any brighter than it is now. Gerard wants that so much. But what he wants more is Frank.

Notes

Please leave a comment, these last two chapters were a lot of fucking work, but hopefully worth it!