a quickie: Too Far, but Never Far Enough
Title: Too Far, but Never Far Enough
Pairing: Sidney Crosby and a certain forward that now plays for the defending Cup champions
Rating: pretty PG, slight language and implications
Disclaimer: 100% pure Grade A fiction. I can't make good on any of these emotions.
Summary: A man looks back on a life he left behind. Popped into my head in Art History today, I need it gone so I'm giving it to you guys, enjoy.
They all think of me as a traitor. A "rental" player. Disloyal. A jackass. I understand why they feel that way. They have every right, after the way I ran. I'm a coward. I can't even write to tell them what I was going through.
My heart shattered in that moment, when I failed them. Their young souls were depending on me. I couldn't come through. I failed them... I failed myself. Hell, I failed the whole city. Half of the state, maybe. People all over the country. People all over the world.
Those last seconds are recalled so perfectly that the pain has yet to recede. If I had just concentrated a little harder. Moved with just a little more precision. The opportunity was right there. It doesn't help that the guys were so supportive. Especially Sid. He's just a boy... how could he be so much more of a man than me? They should've hated me. Resented me. Blamed me. But no, they praised me. They praised my short months with me. The celebrated my performances. "Next year, eh?" Sid has said to me, arm around my shoulder, grinning like a champion. He smiled. Fucking smiled. As soon as those words left his mouth, I knew... there could never be a "next year". I couldn't allow these boys to depend on me. All that talent, all that youth with their whole careers ahead of them. No, never again could they rely on my performance. They deserve better than me.
When July 1st came, I knew I would have to create a reason for them to hate me, for the whole city to hate me. I had to turn to the operation that had been their downfall. I had to literally become the enemy. Of course it isn't what I really wanted. It broke my heart to be so cold to those boys. I remember so clearly the way that I looked into the cameras; my eyes reflected back two empty, emotionless voids as I told the world that winning was the only thing that mattered to me. God, what an asshole. I can't shake the images. Not just my empty eyes, but the eyes of the boys I had let down. Not just once, but twice now, as I turned on them. I will never forget the hurt I saw in Sid's eyes... it burned through me. But I could show no remorse. They deserved a clean break, a chance to start fresh.
I was grateful when my new club put me in the position to change my number. That too I knew I had to leave behind me. My new home brings little comfort to me. It's cold, which seems appropriate. Henrik and Pavel have tried so hard to integrate me into their lives, but I can hardly fake the smiles anymore. Soon, I'm sure they will stop asking me to go out with them all together. I train hard to keep my mind occupied, but I can't avoid all my free time. When I do find myself without anything to keep me busy, my mind easily wanders east. Sometimes I throw things. Sometimes I cry. Most nights, my cell phone is lying open in my hand. My fingers press familiar buttons, quickly landing on that familiar name down in the S's. I can never bring myself to press that little green send button, though. I just stare. I close my eyes, and I remember.
Long days of practice. Even longer nights of drinking. The next day always held plenty of stories to laugh about. And then there were the things that the two of us didn't know how to deal with the next morning, the things that were deemed taboo to talk about at all. I wanted to deal with it. I wanted to talk about it. But Sid, he never could. And now I have all these memories, and all these miles between us.
And I guess that's the root of my misery. After you've played on Sidney Crosby's line, whose line can compare? And once you've tasted his kiss, whose lips can compare?
I mean, come on. Who am I kidding... It's Sidney fucking Crosby.
Pairing: Sidney Crosby and a certain forward that now plays for the defending Cup champions
Rating: pretty PG, slight language and implications
Disclaimer: 100% pure Grade A fiction. I can't make good on any of these emotions.
Summary: A man looks back on a life he left behind. Popped into my head in Art History today, I need it gone so I'm giving it to you guys, enjoy.
They all think of me as a traitor. A "rental" player. Disloyal. A jackass. I understand why they feel that way. They have every right, after the way I ran. I'm a coward. I can't even write to tell them what I was going through.
My heart shattered in that moment, when I failed them. Their young souls were depending on me. I couldn't come through. I failed them... I failed myself. Hell, I failed the whole city. Half of the state, maybe. People all over the country. People all over the world.
Those last seconds are recalled so perfectly that the pain has yet to recede. If I had just concentrated a little harder. Moved with just a little more precision. The opportunity was right there. It doesn't help that the guys were so supportive. Especially Sid. He's just a boy... how could he be so much more of a man than me? They should've hated me. Resented me. Blamed me. But no, they praised me. They praised my short months with me. The celebrated my performances. "Next year, eh?" Sid has said to me, arm around my shoulder, grinning like a champion. He smiled. Fucking smiled. As soon as those words left his mouth, I knew... there could never be a "next year". I couldn't allow these boys to depend on me. All that talent, all that youth with their whole careers ahead of them. No, never again could they rely on my performance. They deserve better than me.
When July 1st came, I knew I would have to create a reason for them to hate me, for the whole city to hate me. I had to turn to the operation that had been their downfall. I had to literally become the enemy. Of course it isn't what I really wanted. It broke my heart to be so cold to those boys. I remember so clearly the way that I looked into the cameras; my eyes reflected back two empty, emotionless voids as I told the world that winning was the only thing that mattered to me. God, what an asshole. I can't shake the images. Not just my empty eyes, but the eyes of the boys I had let down. Not just once, but twice now, as I turned on them. I will never forget the hurt I saw in Sid's eyes... it burned through me. But I could show no remorse. They deserved a clean break, a chance to start fresh.
I was grateful when my new club put me in the position to change my number. That too I knew I had to leave behind me. My new home brings little comfort to me. It's cold, which seems appropriate. Henrik and Pavel have tried so hard to integrate me into their lives, but I can hardly fake the smiles anymore. Soon, I'm sure they will stop asking me to go out with them all together. I train hard to keep my mind occupied, but I can't avoid all my free time. When I do find myself without anything to keep me busy, my mind easily wanders east. Sometimes I throw things. Sometimes I cry. Most nights, my cell phone is lying open in my hand. My fingers press familiar buttons, quickly landing on that familiar name down in the S's. I can never bring myself to press that little green send button, though. I just stare. I close my eyes, and I remember.
Long days of practice. Even longer nights of drinking. The next day always held plenty of stories to laugh about. And then there were the things that the two of us didn't know how to deal with the next morning, the things that were deemed taboo to talk about at all. I wanted to deal with it. I wanted to talk about it. But Sid, he never could. And now I have all these memories, and all these miles between us.
And I guess that's the root of my misery. After you've played on Sidney Crosby's line, whose line can compare? And once you've tasted his kiss, whose lips can compare?
I mean, come on. Who am I kidding... It's Sidney fucking Crosby.