Fic: The Lonely End of the Rink, Part 2.2
Part 2.1
Marcus spent Sunday being depressed and apprehensive in turns. He swam for a while, did every speck of homework he had left and spent a few hours looking at last year’s game tapes in preparation for the coming road trip.
At five o’clock, he gave in to the inevitable and had a shower, dressing quickly, although he didn’t pay very close attention to his clothes. You don’t dress carefully when going to your doom, after all.
On his way out he stopped in the TV room where his uncle was chatting with Stephan, the TV on in the background and property pictures spread out on the couch between them.
“I’m heading out for the night, Uncle,” he said.
“Oh?” Uncle looked up. “You’re not staying for dinner?”
“No, actually I’m going out for dinner,” Marcus told him.
“With Esca?”
Marcus’ chest clenched at his uncle’s assumption. He should be going out with Esca. Especially since he was leaving so soon, and for so long. He shook his head.
“No, with Cottia Henderson,” he said. Both Uncle and Stephan looked up, surprise written on their faces.
“Really? Cottia?” Uncle said, unable to hide his astonishment. “I thought she annoyed you.”
“She does, sometimes,” Marcus said, fidgeting with his keys. “She has her good points.”
“If you say so. Have a good evening, then,” Uncle said, turning back to Stephan with a look Marcus didn’t want to analyze.
“Good luck,” Stephan added. Marcus gave them a wan smile and then turned away.
**
Dinner went surprisingly well. Because they had known each other for years they had plenty to talk about, school, hockey, friends, Esca. For Marcus at least, it didn’t feel like a date. Talking about Esca helped a lot, Cottia also knew that he was going away, she needed to know, as they were partners in Biology. They had made plans to coordinate their term project over the internet, emails and shared documents and such. Marcus thought it was a great idea.
“Of course it is,” Cottia had said. “Esca is really quite clever.”
This didn’t come as a surprise to Marcus. Esca was clever. And funny. And talented. And the most beautiful person that Marcus had ever seen. He was amazing, basically.
When he dropped Cottia off, he knew that she was expecting a kiss, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. So he gave her a kiss on the cheek and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and left.
He thought about Esca all the way home.
**
“Hey Aquila.”
Marcus stopped, immediately recognizing the voice that had called him and wishing the earth would just swallow him up. The sooner, the better, please.
“Henderson,” Marcus said coolly, turning around to watch Charlie catch up with him.
“Listen, I kind of think I owe you an apology,” Charlie began, although his tone said otherwise.
“Is that right?” Marcus asked. “Why?”
“I may have been out of line the other day,” he said. Marcus just looked at him.
“Well, clearly you’re not gay, and I knew that. I just got a little carried away,” he said. “I just hate that faggy nonsense, and you still hang around with that guy.”
Marcus just looked at him for another minute. “So let me see if I got this right,” he said, finally. “You think I’m not gay but still used terms that are far too crude and revolting to repeat as a tool to insult me and imply that I was, all because I have a gay friend and you basically couldn’t help yourself?”
“When you put it that way,” Charlie began, but Marcus interrupted him.
“When I put it that way it’s the truth. You are a bigoted, homophobic asshole, Charlie. I guess I’ve always known that. But what I’m wondering is, are you going to apologize to Esca like you did to me?” Marcus said.
“Why the fuck should I?” Charlie scoffed. “He is gay.”
“Okay, so you’re not apologizing for the repulsive language you used or for your narrow minded attitude, but for calling me something you think I’m not.”
Charlie looked like he was thinking about that, trying to decide whether to agree or not. He was a decent defenseman, but a complete idiot, Marcus thought.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said at last. Marcus just shook his head.
“Forget it then,” he said. “Apology not accepted, not unless you extend one to Esca as well.”
“That ain’t gonna happen,” Charlie insisted. “I got nothing more to say to him.”
“Is that a promise?” Marcus asked.
“Whatever,” Charlie said, dismissing the topic. “What I wanted to say was, now that you’re dating my sister-”
“We went out on one date,” Marcus said.
“Yeah, a date that didn’t end as well as she’d hoped,” Charlie said. “You’d better treat her right, Marcus, or you’ll have me to deal with.”
“I already have you to deal with. Your homophobia has alienated a good friend of mine, your defensive skills are sporadic at best, jeopardizing my play, you hang around with people I mostly consider my friends and I am close with your sister,” Marcus listed, his dismay growing with every addition. “And if you’re threatening me, just remember that I can kick your ass from here to the island and back, so leave me the fuck alone.”
“Whatever, Aquila,” Charlie snarled as Marcus walked away. “Just don’t hurt my sister, or I will hurt you!”
“As if you could,” Marcus muttered as he left the arena.
**
Marcus managed to avoid Cottia for most of the day, but she nabbed him after Math, despite his attempt to flee with only a nod at Esca, who had stayed behind to talk to the teacher. About his coming workload, no doubt.
“Marcus, wait up,” she said, so he did, stepping out of the flow of human traffic that filled the hallway.
“Hi Cottia,” he said as she caught up, threading an arm through his and leading him toward her locker.
“I had a really great time last night, Marcus,” she said, peering up at him through her lashes. He supposed it was meant to be attractive.
“I did too,” he said, smiling. He didn’t have to lie about that, it was a good time until he’d dropped her off.
“That’s wonderful,” she beamed, and Marcus felt a twinge of guilt at her clearly mistaking his meaning. “I think we should do it again.”
“I, okay,” he said before his brain could catch up to his mouth. Then again, this was what he had wanted, wasn’t it?
“Wonderful,” Cottia said, stopping and throwing her arms around his neck, again. She didn’t let go the way she had the last time, so Marcus took a step back, pulling her arms away, taking her hand and continuing to walk.
“An evening this week, perhaps?” she suggested as they reached her locker. Marcus was grateful to have an excuse to let go of her hand.
“Weekdays are kind of out,” Marcus said. “Even if I don’t have a game, there’s far too much homework to do, and practice comes early.”
“Oh, of course,” Cottia said. “The weekend, then?”
“We have an away trip this weekend, we leave Thursday.”
“Oh yes, I forgot,” she said, quite disappointed now. “We’ll have to do it another time.”
“Some other time,” Marcus said. “But I should get going now. Lots to do, you know.”
“Me too,” Cottia said with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Marcus nodded at her, then headed for his own locker, as quickly as was polite. He couldn’t miss the opportunity to see Esca, after all, if only for a few minutes. Soon he would be gone and Marcus wouldn’t see him for weeks. His chest ached at the thought.
**
That week Marcus scoured all the TV listings he could find, searching for coverage of the Skate America competition, fortunately succeeding without too much effort. He knew he’d be able to find Skate Canada the following week, it was the rest he was unsure about. But he was going to be watching, every weekend until Esca came home.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to be able to watch in real time, so he set his dvr to record the first day of competition, knowing he’d be home in time for the second. Then he packed for the games, the bus was leaving before dawn the next morning.
He hated these long bus rides, crammed in with his teammates, unable to escape, forced to listen to their ridiculous conversations for hours at a time. He usually retreated into his iPod, and this trip would be no exception. At least it was a short trip, only three games and back home late Saturday.
**
Marcus threw himself into his seat, purposefully choosing one close to the front of the bus, not so close that the coach would want to talk, but nowhere near where the bulk of the team sat, laughing and acting like idiots. He quickly put in his headphones and settled down, hoping no one would disturb him. Fortunately, everyone settled down quickly, the return trip was almost always more pleasant, with everyone tired from the game and a long drive through the night ahead.
Usually he tried to get some sleep, these weekends were always exhausting, but he knew Esca had skated his short program that evening while the team had been on the ice, and he was hoping to find highlights.
He found them right away, and felt a surge of gratitude for YouTube. The footage was grainy and the sound deplorable, but to his starving eyes it was a feast. Esca was dressed in black and red, looking impossibly elegant as he leaped and spun around the ice.
All it did was whet Marcus’ appetite. He knew he had the whole thing at home on his dvr, in pristine picture and sound. He was eager to see the scores, not that he understood the intricate scoring process, but he knew what was good and what was bad. And he knew Esca had to have received a very good score, from what he could tell the routine had been perfect.
He watched the video three more times before finally turning off his phone and laying his seat back. It was a three hour drive back to Chilliwack, and if he had enough sleep, maybe he could watch Esca’s routine before he went to bed.
**
Marcus never did watch it that night, despite his nap on the bus, he was completely exhausted when he finally made it home. He didn’t even drag his bag up to his room, leaving it at the bottom of the stairs, planning to get it in the morning. He fell into his bed and was asleep almost immediately, fully clothed.
When he woke, morning sunlight was filtering through his blinds. He groaned and pulled a pillow over his head, willing himself to go back to sleep. He was almost successful until he remembered the grainy, shaky video he’d watched on his phone the night before, realizing that he was now home and he could see it properly.
He pulled himself out of bed and stripped off the clothes he’d slept in, changing into some comfy pj’s. He wasn’t planning on going anywhere that day, so why redress? The clock told him it was not even 8:30, he often slept late after away games, but it was late enough that he was starving. He quickly dashed down the stairs to get himself some breakfast, then headed back up before his uncle came in from the yard, Uncle was a rather fierce gardener and would inevitably trap Marcus with some discussion about the process of preparing his garden for winter, and Marcus just wasn’t in the mood. He had more pressing concerns that morning.
He sank gratefully onto his couch with the remote and before long he was watching avidly as the announcers discussed the skaters in the competition and the performing order was displayed on the screen. Esca was about halfway through, but Marcus waited, listening to the announcers talk about him, his decision to move to Canada to train and from there intending to skate for Canada rather than Great Britain. They sounded surprised at his intentions, but mentioned many other skaters over the years who had chosen to skate for a nation other than the one of their birth.
It made Marcus wonder why Esca has chosen to leave Britain for good, he had never discussed it and Marcus, too caught up in the mere fact of Esca’s presence, had never asked. He determined that he would, when Esca returned.
Once the programs began, Marcus hit the fast forward button, uninterested in the rest of the skaters other than their position as Esca’s competitors. He reached Esca’s program at last, and his heart leapt at the sight of him. His costume was perfectly tailored and he looked stunning in it, much more than a shaky YouTube video could show. This camera gave him close ups that had his heart pounding and long shots that stirred the ache in his chest, the one that Esca had come to fill.
The program was what the title implied, short. Esca was done long before Marcus was ready to stop watching. The program had been flawless, and so very different from watching a shaky phone cam video, as Marcus had before. And this time, he was able to watch as Esca sat in front of the camera to await his score. Andrew sat with him, discussing his performance, if Marcus listened carefully, he could hear the occasional word over the announcer’s discussion.
The scores came in and Marcus was unsurprised that they placed Esca in the lead, far above the others, so far. Esca’s smile was wide and Andrew looked very pleased. Marcus was beaming also. This brief glimpse of Esca was like a balm, smoothing over the empty place inside him where Esca had come to live.
Marcus watched it again, and then watched a few of the other skaters, to get a better idea of what Esca was up against. Some of them were very good and some not so much and, in the end, Esca was in third place, with the long program to come.
Marcus was impatient for it to begin. According to the broadcast, coverage would start at six that evening although Esca, having placed so high in the short program, would skate near the end, third to last. Marcus sighed, turning off the machine and gathering his dishes, including a few from the previous week. It was only just 10am, he had plenty of time to kill.
**
By the time 6pm rolled around, Marcus had exhausted every method of distraction. He had cleaned and put away his gear from the game, cleaned his room, and did some laundry even though he knew Sassy would have been happy to do it. He went for a swim and spent some time with the weights, then spent the afternoon finishing up any homework in preparation for the coming school week. Then he surfed around online for a while, trying to distract himself but failing when he found himself searching for information about the next several weeks competition, the Grand Prix of figure skating.
Finally he padded downstairs for dinner with his uncle and Stephan. He had debated skipping dinner or eating it in his room, but he knew it would be several hours before Esca performed and watching the seemingly endless line of skaters before him would just frustrate Marcus.
“Marcus, you’ve decided to join us!” Uncle said, gesturing Marcus to sit.
“Seemed like the thing to do,” Marcus said, sitting down and beginning to fill his plate.
“How was the game last night?” Stephan asked, and Marcus was grateful for the distraction.
“We lost, though I scored a goal and got an assist,” he said, grinning at them both. It had been a good game, but their goalie had been off his game a bit. They launched into a discussion about the relative merits of goaltenders vs goal scorers, and before Marcus knew it, it was after seven o’clock.
“Will you join us in the TV room, or are you planning on hiding in your bedroom the rest of the night?” Uncle asked. Marcus was about to decline, but then Stephan spoke up.
“We thought we’d watch the Skate America competition,” Stephan said, sharing a sly look with Uncle. “Isn’t Esca poised to place in the top three?”
“He’s in third after the short program, if I recall,” Uncle said, and Marcus just looked at them in surprise.
Uncle laughed, throwing an arm around Marcus’ shoulder and all but dragging him into the TV room. “Come on boy, watch it with us,” he insisted, so Marcus agreed.
So they watched together, which was much more amusing for Marcus than watching alone. Uncle and Stephan were able to distract him, although he did become increasingly more restless as Esca’s turn approached. Marcus was dismayed to see him drop in the standings and had to assure himself that it would all even out when Esca skated his program.
Finally the top skaters were up and there was Esca, gliding around the ice, warming up with small, slow jumps and lazy spins, along with the last batch of skaters. Before too long they were all filing off the ice, all but one.
It was almost harder to watch now that it was so close, but soon enough, Esca was taking the ice, positioning himself and waiting for the music. Marcus was on the edge of his seat, literally. Esca looked as good as he had the previous night, this time he was dressed all in white, with blue Celtic designs embroidered down one leg and across his torso. Marcus thought he looked fabulous, and so did the announcers. The female one in particular was an admirer.
The music started and Esca began moving, arms and legs in concert to portray a hunt, an escape, the music building in places and quieting in others, in tune with his movements, jumps, spins, footwork, all combining in a seemingly effortless dance of emotion and artistry. Finally, the music faded as Esca’s movements slowed, until he collapsed into a pile in the center of the rink, the last few notes dissipating.
And then the applause began. It was thunderous, even through the television. Esca rose gracefully and waved, bowing to one side of the arena and then the next, stopping to pick up several bouquets that had been tossed on the ice before he skated toward the boards and a beaming Andrew, who embraced him when he stepped off the ice.
“Wow,” Uncle said from behind Marcus, who was still on the edge of the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. Esca’s hair was windswept, his cheeks flushed from exertion, but his eyes were alive, sparkling with excitement and accomplishment.
“He’s really talented, isn’t he?” Uncle said.
“Quite,” confirmed Stephan. “I haven’t seen a program like that in, well, perhaps ever.”
“He wants to go to the Olympics,” Marcus said absently, watching Esca and Andrew conferring as they had the night before, only this time with more back slapping and even wider grins.
“He’ll make it,” Uncle said, slapping Marcus on the back, as if it were somehow his accomplishment as well.
They didn’t have long to wait before the scores were posted, provoking roars from the crowd and an utterly stunned look on Esca’s face. Andrew was hugging him again, practically bouncing up and down, but Esca still looked like someone had turned him off.
“Excellent score,” Uncle said, and the announcer confirmed it, saying that he was almost assured first place, so wide was the gap between his score and those that had preceded him. Finally the furor died down, a grin beginning to appear on Esca’s face, just in time for a commercial break.
Marcus sighed, lying back on the couch, feeling as if he’d just played a shift. They sat in anticipation as the final two skaters performed, both were very good as well, but neither moved the crowd the way Esca had. The second to last fumbled some footwork and dropped out of the top three but the last performed perfectly.
The wait for the scores was interminable. Esca had secured second place, at least, but he had a very good shot at being first. Marcus waited on the edge of the couch once more, his leg bouncing until, at last, the score were displayed. When the numbers added up, Marcus jumped of the couch, yelling, “yes!” at the top of his lungs.
Uncle and Stephan clapped and cheered as well, but Marcus felt as if he’d won the league championships. He watched Esca jumping and hugging Andrew and wished more than anything else that he was there, that he was the one Esca threw his arms around with excitement.
He sat back down with a sigh as the final standings were displayed on the screen and the announcers discussed Esca’s win and how he had come from a year of missed competitions and yet had skyrocketed to the top of the sport. When the feed came back to the pit, it showed Andrew grinning at the camera, but Esca was behind him, his back turned to the camera.
They wanted Esca for an interview, but Andrew held them back insisting, “he’s just making a call back home, won’t be long,” and proceeding to answer questions himself.
Marcus’ pocket suddenly came to life, the tinny voice of Gordon Downie singing, “Every time you go, you are all I see...” before Marcus pulled it out and answered, jumping off the couch and stepping just out of the room.
“Esca?” he said, breathless, unable to believe that Esca was calling him at that moment.
“Marcus!” Esca exclaimed, the excitement clear in his voice. “I was hoping you’d be up.”
“Of course I am,” Marcus replied. “We just finished watching you kick that other guy’s ass!”
Esca laughed, delighted. “You saw?”
“I did,” Marcus said. “You were amazing, I couldn't tear my eyes away.”
“Really? Marcus,” he said, his voice becoming quiet. “Just a minute,” he said, louder, they must have been getting impatient to interview him.
“Marcus,” he repeated, his voice quiet again. “I wish you could be here.”
Marcus swallowed, his stomach flipping just a little. “I wish I could too,” he said at last. “But I’ll be watching every chance I get.”
“It’s good to know,” Esca said. “I have to go but, I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Yeah, you do that,” Marcus replied. “I’ll be here. Bye.”
“Bye,” Esca said, and the line went dead. Marcus stood looking at the phone, reading that their call had lasted less than two minutes. Not nearly long enough. Then he heard Esca’s voice again, this time from the TV, so he went back in.
“...had to let them know,” Esca was saying.”I’ve made some good friends since I moved to Canada.”
“You seem to be doing well with the move,” the interviewer was saying, “if that performance was anything to go by.”
“I have to give some of the credit for that to Andrew,” Esca said, patting his coach on the shoulder. “He’s helped me a lot, given me some tips that have really taken my skating to the next level.”
“He’s an excellent pupil,” Andrew said, shoving Esca’s head away, making him laugh.
“You see what I have to put up with?” Esca said, beaming. Marcus felt his stomach flip again. Esca was utterly beautiful.
The interviewer laughed. “We’ll let you get back to celebrating. Good luck in next week’s competition,” and the camera panned out, searching for another person to interview.
Marcus couldn’t believe that Esca has called him, so soon after his victory. He couldn’t wipe the grin from his face, nor stop the pounding of his heart.
“Is Esca well, then?” Uncle asked, sharing a look with Stephan. They had clearly been discussing him, but Marcus didn’t even care.
“He’s amazing,” Marcus answered, smiling at them. “I’m off to bed, practice in the morning.” They called their good-nights and he went upstairs, attending to his nightly routine with a sappy smile on his face and a stomach full of butterflies.
He made sure all his school supplies were in his bag and dropped it by the door. He double checked his hockey bag and tossed and extra roll of tape in there for good measure. Then he cleaned up, brushed his teeth and took a piss before climbing into bed and turning off the light.
He laid back, unable to stop thoughts of Esca from flooding his mind, unwilling to even try. The way he’d felt when he’d watched Esca skate that night came rushing back and, without any more denial, he reached down and pulled his cock out of his pants, pushing back the duvet. He stroked himself, picturing Esca in his mind, the graceful, sinuous movements he’d made on the ice, the power evident in his small frame as he threw himself into the air and landed, impossibly, on a thin blade of sharpened steel.
His hand moved faster and faster, the other dropping to tug at his balls, his breath catching, gasping with the intensity of his thoughts. Suddenly his mind threw him back to that summer day by the pool, the sunlight flowing over Esca’s soft skin, skin he had held in his hands for one brief, timeless moment. He remembered Esca’s head thrown back in laughter, the strong column of his neck bared, and he imagined tasting it, leaning forward and running his lips, his tongue, over the muscle there, feeling Esca’s voice as it murmured his name in that smooth, accented baritone.
He came, gasping as the breath left his body, splatters of come dotting his belly and t-shirt, slipping down to coat his hand and cock, even as his movements slowed. He stayed like that for several minutes, panting for breath as pictures of Esca continued to flow through his mind. He began to drift off, exhaustion overtaking him once more, so he sat up and quickly pulled off his soiled shirt, using it to wipe his belly and hand, and then tossed it in the direction of his laundry hamper. It fell short, but he didn’t care. He’d get it in the morning.
He rolled over, pulling the duvet up and burrowed into his pillow and fell asleep, with Esca’s program still replaying in his mind.
**
Cottia attached herself to him like a limpet as soon as he arrived at school the following day.
“Marcus!” she exclaimed, clinging to his arm. “Did you see Esca last night? It was amazing! I’ve never seen anyone skate like that, never, and I can hardly believe he’s our friend!”
Marcus pulled his arm free so that he could unlock his locker, unable to stop thinking that Esca was his friend, thank you very much, and Cottia was just weaseling her way in. Then he reminded himself that he was being unfair and that she had every right to befriend Esca, and why wouldn’t she want to? He was completely different than anyone Marcus had ever met.
To be fair, Cottia was pretty amazing too. How someone like her had shared a womb with someone like Charlie, Marcus couldn’t fathom. He was starting to feel that maybe he should be honest with her. Sure, she may be crushing on him, but she had a rational head on her shoulders, and, unlike her brother, she wasn’t ruled by fear and homophobia. She would understand, he knew it.
Then again, telling another person, any other person was not part of the plan. He was trying to fix things, not screw them up further.
“I know, I saw,” Marcus said, smiling at her genuinely for the first time all semester then turning to rummage in his locker. “He called me after, so I would have known anyway.”
“He...wait,” she said, pulling at his arm and making him look at her. “Was that you he called when they were trying to interview him?” She looked utterly flabbergasted, and Marcus flushed.
“Uhh, yeah,” he said, grabbing his books and closing the locker.
“Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought he was calling his Grandma.”
“Nope,” Marcus said. “I gotta get to class, Cottia, I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, but then she shook herself and called after him. “No, wait!”
He turned around, surprised by the change that had come over her. She was in full on simper now. “I know for sure you don’t have any games this weekend, and Esca isn’t around so you won’t be hanging out with him.”
Marcus nodded, unable to deny anything.
“So I am insisting you take me to the movie on Saturday. Deal?” She gave him a look that she probably thought would induce him to obey, and while it did nothing for him, he considered. Pleasing Cottia would go a long way to throwing Charlie and anybody else off the trail, and that was the plan after all, wasn’t it? He had to stop losing sight of that, so he agreed.
“Sure, sounds good,” he said, smiling. “We’ll figure the rest out later, yeah?”
“Okay,” she said, bouncing. “See you in Math!” and with that she was off down the hallway, leaving him staring after her. She really was a lovely girl and he felt bad for deceiving her. But, it wasn’t deception when he was trying, was it? He thought of the wank he’d had the previous night and cringed. Maybe he needed to try harder. Now, while Esca wasn’t around to distract him.
**
But Esca still managed to distract him. Marcus couldn’t get Esca out of his head all day, his smooth movement on the ice, his beaming face when he’d won, the low intimate tone in his voice when he’d told Marcus that he wished he was there. All of it kept spinning around and around until finally Luke took him aside and asked him what was the matter.
“Nothing,” he said, not able to meet Luke’s eyes. “I’m just tired, it was a long ride this weekend, and Esca’s skate was on last night until way later than I usually stay up.”
“Oh yeah?” Luke asked, interested. “How’d he do?”
“He won,” Marcus said, smiling at the memory. “Kicked the Russian guy’s ass too.”
“Did he?”
“Yeah, handed it to him on a plate, it was amazing.” Marcus couldn’t help but laugh. “Poor guy didn’t even know what hit him.”
“Wow, that’s pretty cool,” Luke said, patting Marcus on the back. “Just get more sleep tonight, eh? Practice in the morning, can’t have you worn out for that.”
“No worries,” Marcus said. “I’m always ready for hockey.”
**
He managed to keep his head in the game for the rest of the week, though Esca called a few times, pulling him right back up into the clouds. He called once he’d arrived in Ottawa, they had been able to spend more time talking, as Esca didn’t have training until the following day.
The date with Cottia had gone well, just like the last they spoke of Esca a lot, namely his performance in the short program on Friday night-for which Marcus had declined invites to several Hallowe’en parties, to the dismay of his friends-and their anticipation of the upcoming long program on Sunday. Cottia had suggested they watch it together, but Marcus had put her off, claiming that he would need to sleep, which was not a lie. The time difference was an annoyance, and it was only going to get worse. Esca left the continent the following Tuesday, making phone calls and stalking him via television problematic.
But Marcus had another problem, one he had not anticipated but had come to dominate his mind. He and Cottia had been spending more time together, and he found himself unable to make further excuses as to why he didn’t want to kiss her. Or touch her, or do anything but hang out. As a seventeen year old boy in the presence of a beautiful young girl who was smart and funny and clearly liked him, he was becoming more suspect than he had if he’d not been dating anyone.
So he kissed her, as rarely as he could, but enough to keep her happy. Marcus was not so happy about it. He’d never kissed anyone before and found himself increasingly wishing it was Esca who he was kissing. So much so that several times he’d had to pull out of the kiss to assure himself he was kissing Cottia instead.
Until she began to press closer, which was a brand new frustration.
If Marcus had maintained any further doubts that he was gay, feeling Cottia’s full breasts pressed against his chest as she kissed him would have done away with them. He had no more illusions on that score, though he steadfastly held to his conviction that he could pretend, that he could show one thing to the world and keep the truth to himself.
He had to. There had never been an openly gay hockey player in the NHL, not an active one, at any rate. The attitude of those in the sport, from the top of the organization to the bottom, was that hockey was a man’s sport almost exclusively. Many of the people involved went so far as to look down on women’s hockey, the thought of a gay man in the NHL was completely alien to them. It was unfathomable.
And Marcus knew this. He knew his career would be in serious jeopardy if anyone were to discover his secret. How he felt about Esca wouldn’t matter to them. They would see him as a pansy, assume he was a weak, ineffectual player, and dismiss him out of hand, most of them without ever seeing him play.
He simply couldn’t risk it. So he continued dating Cottia, week after week, feeling more and more guilty about it. Instead of thinking about that, he focused on following Esca avidly as he skated around the globe, placing consistently in the top four and placing first more often than not. He was taking the figure skating world by storm, to the delight of some and dismay of others. Great Britain in particular seemed disappointed to lose him, but Esca had officially immigrated and had obtained a permanent residence card, in prelude to getting his citizenship.
Marcus occasionally wondered why, and told himself he would ask the next time Esca called, but with every phone call, he was so distracted by the sound of Esca’s voice and his excitement that he forgot, every time.
**
The fall went by in a whirl, Marcus kept busy with one thing after another, but as time passed the sound of Esca’s voice was no longer enough to fill the void his presence had left in Marcus’ life. It didn’t even stem the tide anymore, it only made Marcus ache more, the pressure building in his chest as they spoke on the phone. It was becoming unbearable, and Cottia wasn’t the only one who had noticed.
Luke had also been paying attention and finally, one Sunday in December, he confronted Marcus. He chose the bus ride returning them from another away trip their last before Christmas. The last game had been in Portland, which made for a long bus ride home, so Luke had plenty of time to ambush him.
“Hey Marcus,” Luke said, dropping into the seat beside Marcus with a look that had Marcus pulling headphones out of his ears. “Good game last night,” he said.
“Thanks,” Marcus grinned. It had been a good game, he’d scored three goals and assisted two others. One goal had been a breakaway, an opportunity created by his speed, something he had been working on in particular during practices.
“You have seemed rather distracted, though,” Luke commented. Marcus sighed. He knew he had been, the only time he was truly able to put Esca out of his mind was when he was on the ice, particularly during a game. Any other time and his mind spun with confusion, uncertainty and anticipation.
“I know, sorry,” Marcus said. “There's been a lot on my mind.”
“I understand,” Luke said, nodding sagely. “Cottia?”
Marcus flushed at the thought of her. It was becoming harder and harder to be around her without the guilt overwhelming him. He was using her, plain and simple, using her to distract those around him from something that was becoming harder and harder to hide. All that when she’d been nothing but wonderful to him. She was a good friend, and she didn’t deserve the way he was treating her.
“Yeah, I just,” Marcus turned in his seat to face him better. “I don’t think she’s the one for me, you know?”
Luke nodded. “Go on,” he said.
“It’s just that she’s such a sweet girl. I really like her an awful lot, we don’t have any problems talking, and hanging out with her is always a lot of fun but there’s just no...spark.” Marcus sighed, feeling a little bit lighter already. It was very freeing to tell Luke the truth, even if it wasn’t the whole truth.
“Yeah, that would put a damper on things,” Luke replied thoughtfully. “But if it isn’t working out, you need to tell her. I think she likes you a lot, Marcus.”
“I know she does, and I feel bad about it.” Marcus laid his head on the head rest and closed his eyes. “I just don’t know how to go about it. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“Marcus, my lad, I think that’s going to happen no matter how you do it, and waiting around isn’t going to make it any easier,” Luke said and Marcus was suddenly very grateful for his friend’s support.
“I know, you’re right,” Marcus agreed. “I’ll have to do it soon.”
“You should,” Luke said. He sat back as well, and they enjoyed a companionable silence for awhile, broken only by the sounds of their teammates being idiots.
“Just don’t tell Charlie, alright?” Marcus said, tossing Luke an imploring look.
“I won’t,” Luke said. “I’d rather not tell him anything, he’s been such a prick lately. Though he’s laid off since you’ve been dating his sister, and since Esca left.”
“Yeah,” Marcus said, unable to stop his cheeks from heating. He hoped Luke wouldn’t see in the dim light of the bus, or at least wouldn’t comment.
“So, if it isn’t Cottia, is there someone else?” Luke asked, and Marcus hated him again. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
“I...I don’t know,” Marcus said, unable to lie to his friend but unwilling to tell the whole truth. “It’s complicated.”
“Hmm,” Luke said, his eyes narrowing, but Marcus was saved by his phone.
“Is that the Hip?” Luke asked. Marcus nodded. “You and the Hip,” Luke said, rolling his eyes.
“I should get this,” Marcus said. Luke stood up with a sigh. “I can take a hint,” he said, heading back to his seat.
“Esca?” Marcus said excitedly. “Hi! Yeah, I heard about it..”
**
The last game before Christmas found Marcus more anxious than any game he’d played previously. There was a rumour that a scout from the Canucks was planning to attend, although the chances of it being true weren’t great. Still, even if there was a scout there, that wasn’t what had Marcus on edge. He’d been scouted before, after all, and he would be again.
Esca had arrived home the night before. Marcus hadn’t seen him yet, but they’d talked on the phone that morning, before Esca had gone to bed again to sleep away the jet lag. He’d told Marcus that he was planning to attend the game that evening, his first live hockey game, and Marcus was jittery.
Finally they were on the ice having a warm up skate, but Marcus was surreptitiously scanning the stands for sight of Esca. And finally, Marcus saw him, where he should have been looking all along. He was seated beside Uncle, in the second seat that Uncle had purchased. He always secured seasons tickets, and shared the second slot with a variety of people. Marcus was thrilled to see Esca there.
When he was called to center ice for the face-off, he put the spectators out of his mind, all of them, Esca, his uncle and the possibly imaginary Canucks scout. He put his head down and got on with the game, grateful that Uncle’s seats were behind the bench and not across from it.
The game went by quickly, they usually did for Marcus, but tonight it was even faster. Marcus scored four goals, in a game that had quickly become a rout, assisting with two others. Marcus counted his assists as highly as his goals, he knew that anyone could slap a shot on net, but setting someone else up to score was a vital skill, and just as valued, if not more. Marcus was nothing if not a team player.
The locker room was jubilant after the game, everyone was pleased with the win and the upcoming holidays. Marcus was happy to be having some time off, as he hoped he’d get to see Esca lots, but he was disappointed that they’d be off practices as well, if only for a week.
Marcus didn’t want to hang around long after the game, but he had a hard time slipping away. Just as he had managed it, his phone buzzed. He dug it out of his pocket, reading the text and grinning.
Good game. See you at home. Later. Uncle.
Marcus sent a, ‘:D’ back, pocketing the phone again and dragging his gear out to the truck. As he approached, he was thrilled to see that someone had thrown down the tailgate and was sitting on the edge, humming to some unheard music, legs swinging to the beat only he could hear.
Marcus’ face split in a grin so wide his cheeks ached.
“Hey!” he hollered as he approached, his breath catching as Esca looked up at him. His face was dimly lit by the lights in the parking lot, but Marcus could see the chill on his cheeks and nose, his hair tucked under a toque.
“Get off my truck, you hooligan,” he called, jogging the last few feet and tossing the bag into the back.
“I’ll sit where I want,” Esca said, giving Marcus a cheeky grin. “Besides, who is going to stop me?”
“Not me,” Marcus said, coming to stand in front of Esca, starving eyes raking over him desperately. Finally he reached out a hand and took Esca’s, pulling him off the tailgate and into an embrace. Esca clung to him and he clung back, and he was certain it went on for far too long, if they were only friends.
He pulled back at last, his hands rubbing up and down Esca’s shoulders while Esca’s rested lightly on his hips. Their eyes met and held, and suddenly the cold didn’t seem to matter. Esca was smiling at him, his face such a sight after so long apart, and Marcus had to let go before he did something he couldn’t take back.
“I’ve missed you,” he said instead, stepping around Esca to put up the tailgate, then leaning back against it. Esca turned around to face him again, and Marcus’ heart clenched when he saw the expression in his eyes, the disappointment.
“I missed you too,” Esca said, smiling again, disappointment passing. “Now buy me some coffee, hockey boy, it’s damn cold out here.”
Marcus grinned widely again, giving Esca’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’re on.”
**
They ended up at Tim Horton’s, as most Canadians do on chilly winter nights. They ordered lattes, vanilla for Marcus and hazelnut for Esca, and a 10 pack of Timbits, as Marcus was always hungry after a game, then found a booth on the side of the restaurant opposite a large group of giggling teenagers.
They settled in, shucking their coats, Esca pulling off his mitts and toque as well. Marcus could only stare at him with badly disguised longing. His hair was shorter than it had been when he’d left, but unlike when Marcus had seen him on TV, it was mussed and soft, no gel to be seen. Marcus swallowed and reached for a Timbit.
“So, your first hockey game,” Marcus said, popping a chocolate glaze into his mouth. “How’d you like it?”
“It was...exciting,” Esca admitted, his face adding, ‘and I can’t believe I liked it’.
“I told ya,” Marcus said, grinning as he ate another Timbit. “No one should be allowed to say they don’t like hockey until they’ve seen it played live.”
“I think I have to agree,” Esca said, sipping his latte. “The atmosphere, the speed, the crowd, it all makes so much more sense when you’re there.”
“I know.”
“I can even understand the propensity to fight,” Esca admitted, surprising Marcus.
“Oh really?” he said, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, with all the emotion and the passion and everyone moving so quickly, I imagine you get quite caught up in it.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Marcus said, nodding. “When I’m on the ice, everything else seems to fade away and it’s just me and the puck, you know? Oh, and those other guys.”
Esca laughed and Marcus felt at peace for the first time in almost two months.
“It’s a lot more intense in the NHL too, the skill level is higher and the game is even more fast paced. If you liked tonight’s game, you’d love to see the Canucks live,” Marcus added, trying to sip his latte without burning his tongue.
“We should go,” Esca said, looking at his latte thoughtfully.
“What, already?” Marcus said.
“No, not now, to a game,” Esca replied, rolling his eyes. “A Canucks game.”
“Oh. That’s a great idea,” Marcus said, beaming. “I haven’t been to one all season.”
“We need to go this year though, before you’re drafted and I’ll have to go alone.”
Marcus chuckled. “Here’s hoping,” he said, raising his mug and then taking another sip.
“So, how was your trip? Kicking ass all over the world must have been tiring,” Marcus said, and Esca laughed delightedly, making Marcus’ breath stop. He looked so happy that Marcus wanted to live in that moment forever.
“It was amazing. I got to see a little bit of every city we went to, and it was really great to meet all the other skaters. I’ve seen some of them skate before, to be competing against them was a whole other thing,” he said, eyes bright.
“I can imagine,” Marcus said. “You were amazing though, some of the others were really good, but you were in a class all your own.”
“Thanks,” Esca said, flushing. “It was a lot of hard work, but so worth it. I’ll definitely get on the Olympic team at this rate.”
“It’s a sure thing. Uncle and Stephan think so too. And Cottia,” Marcus added.
“So she’s said,” Esca said, chucking. “Her emails were positively glowing.”
“At least you were spared the live version,” Marcus added.
“For now,” Esca replied, sipping his latte. “So, how are things between you two?” he asked quietly, spinning his drink around inside the mug.
“Oh, uh, alright, I guess,” Marcus said, staring at his own drink. “We’ve gone out a few times, but I just don’t think it’s working.” He looked up, seeing Esca looking at him and their gazes caught, stretching the moment out impossibly.
“That’s too bad,” Esca said, holding his gaze, and Marcus got the feeling that he didn’t think it was a bad thing at all. Marcus tore his eyes away, peering into the Timbit box and fishing out the last chocolate one.
“So, tell me more about the wide world,” he said, munching.
**
They spent another hour or so talking about the world, what Esca had seen and what Marcus wanted to. Esca mentioned he’d be heading to Finland in January for the European Championships, which Marcus thought exciting.
It was quite frosty when they left, and when Esca pulled his toque back on, Marcus mourned the messy head, although it was soon traded for rosy cheeks, which were just as fetching.
“Do you want a ride?” he asked, but Esca shook his head.
“No, I’m not too far, and it’s cold but it’s a nice night anyway,” he said.
“I’ll walk with you,” Marcus said, following.
They walked in silence until they reached Esca’s building, but instead of going in, Esca pulled himself up to sit on the retaining wall out front, so Marcus leaned against it, beside him. There they stayed, the silence companionable, but Marcus felt the tension between them differently than he had before Esca had gone. There was a new awareness and for once, Marcus didn’t try to dismiss it immediately.
“Do you ever think there’s someone out there who is perfect for you?” Esca asked suddenly. Marcus looked at him, his breath catching at the sight of Esca with his face turned toward the clear, star-lit sky. “And if you can just meet them, everything will fall into place and you’ll be happy?”
Marcus thought for a few moments before speaking. “I think it’s more complicated than that,” he replied at last, his heart pounding. “Sometimes things don’t work out that easy, even if you--” he bit off the words, unable to complete the sentence that he had just then realized, would be the truth.
“And what if they pass you by?” Esca asked, turning to face Marcus, his eyes fiery and intent, drawing Marcus closer, turning his body towards Esca so that he could almost feel the heat rising between them. “What if you let them go? And what if you never get the chance again?” Esca continued, his voice low, strained.
“Esca,” Marcus said, but his brain had stopped working at the look in Esca’s eyes. And then his body moved, independently of brain function, for once he followed his heart instead of his treacherous head. He moved closer, smoothing a hand up Esca’s knee, feeling the strong muscle there, even through the fabric of his jeans.
“Esca, I,” he whispered, but then he leaned forward and they were kissing, a soft almost intangible press of lips, followed by a deeper, rougher melding, heat warming their lips, removing the chill of the night air.
“Marcus,” Esca gasped, cupping Marcus’ face, his hands sliding over Marcus’ jaw and into his hair, even as Marcus’ had come up to clasp Esca’s neck, pulling him closer. Soon one of them opened up and then his tongue was in Esca’s mouth, tasting and feeling as if he was a starving man and Esca was the only sustenance to be found.
“Marcus,” Esca repeated between kisses, tugging Marcus closer, his legs falling open to admit Marcus between them. “Finally,” he whispered, smiling against Marcus’ mouth, opening for another kiss, but Marcus jerked back, stepping out of his embrace, shuddering as the cold rushed in between them once more.
“No, I...this isn’t how it’s supposed, I can’t,” he babbled, staring fixedly at Esca’s shocked face and his red, shiny lips. “No, no, it’s...I’m...I’ll see you,” he said, tearing himself away, not missing the betrayed look flash across Esca’s face.
“Marcus!” he called, but Marcus didn’t turn back as he jogged toward the road. “Marcus, don’t!” he tried again, but Marcus just dashed across the street, his heart pounding as Esca’s voice faded away behind him.
Part 3
Marcus spent Sunday being depressed and apprehensive in turns. He swam for a while, did every speck of homework he had left and spent a few hours looking at last year’s game tapes in preparation for the coming road trip.
At five o’clock, he gave in to the inevitable and had a shower, dressing quickly, although he didn’t pay very close attention to his clothes. You don’t dress carefully when going to your doom, after all.
On his way out he stopped in the TV room where his uncle was chatting with Stephan, the TV on in the background and property pictures spread out on the couch between them.
“I’m heading out for the night, Uncle,” he said.
“Oh?” Uncle looked up. “You’re not staying for dinner?”
“No, actually I’m going out for dinner,” Marcus told him.
“With Esca?”
Marcus’ chest clenched at his uncle’s assumption. He should be going out with Esca. Especially since he was leaving so soon, and for so long. He shook his head.
“No, with Cottia Henderson,” he said. Both Uncle and Stephan looked up, surprise written on their faces.
“Really? Cottia?” Uncle said, unable to hide his astonishment. “I thought she annoyed you.”
“She does, sometimes,” Marcus said, fidgeting with his keys. “She has her good points.”
“If you say so. Have a good evening, then,” Uncle said, turning back to Stephan with a look Marcus didn’t want to analyze.
“Good luck,” Stephan added. Marcus gave them a wan smile and then turned away.
**
Dinner went surprisingly well. Because they had known each other for years they had plenty to talk about, school, hockey, friends, Esca. For Marcus at least, it didn’t feel like a date. Talking about Esca helped a lot, Cottia also knew that he was going away, she needed to know, as they were partners in Biology. They had made plans to coordinate their term project over the internet, emails and shared documents and such. Marcus thought it was a great idea.
“Of course it is,” Cottia had said. “Esca is really quite clever.”
This didn’t come as a surprise to Marcus. Esca was clever. And funny. And talented. And the most beautiful person that Marcus had ever seen. He was amazing, basically.
When he dropped Cottia off, he knew that she was expecting a kiss, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. So he gave her a kiss on the cheek and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and left.
He thought about Esca all the way home.
**
“Hey Aquila.”
Marcus stopped, immediately recognizing the voice that had called him and wishing the earth would just swallow him up. The sooner, the better, please.
“Henderson,” Marcus said coolly, turning around to watch Charlie catch up with him.
“Listen, I kind of think I owe you an apology,” Charlie began, although his tone said otherwise.
“Is that right?” Marcus asked. “Why?”
“I may have been out of line the other day,” he said. Marcus just looked at him.
“Well, clearly you’re not gay, and I knew that. I just got a little carried away,” he said. “I just hate that faggy nonsense, and you still hang around with that guy.”
Marcus just looked at him for another minute. “So let me see if I got this right,” he said, finally. “You think I’m not gay but still used terms that are far too crude and revolting to repeat as a tool to insult me and imply that I was, all because I have a gay friend and you basically couldn’t help yourself?”
“When you put it that way,” Charlie began, but Marcus interrupted him.
“When I put it that way it’s the truth. You are a bigoted, homophobic asshole, Charlie. I guess I’ve always known that. But what I’m wondering is, are you going to apologize to Esca like you did to me?” Marcus said.
“Why the fuck should I?” Charlie scoffed. “He is gay.”
“Okay, so you’re not apologizing for the repulsive language you used or for your narrow minded attitude, but for calling me something you think I’m not.”
Charlie looked like he was thinking about that, trying to decide whether to agree or not. He was a decent defenseman, but a complete idiot, Marcus thought.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said at last. Marcus just shook his head.
“Forget it then,” he said. “Apology not accepted, not unless you extend one to Esca as well.”
“That ain’t gonna happen,” Charlie insisted. “I got nothing more to say to him.”
“Is that a promise?” Marcus asked.
“Whatever,” Charlie said, dismissing the topic. “What I wanted to say was, now that you’re dating my sister-”
“We went out on one date,” Marcus said.
“Yeah, a date that didn’t end as well as she’d hoped,” Charlie said. “You’d better treat her right, Marcus, or you’ll have me to deal with.”
“I already have you to deal with. Your homophobia has alienated a good friend of mine, your defensive skills are sporadic at best, jeopardizing my play, you hang around with people I mostly consider my friends and I am close with your sister,” Marcus listed, his dismay growing with every addition. “And if you’re threatening me, just remember that I can kick your ass from here to the island and back, so leave me the fuck alone.”
“Whatever, Aquila,” Charlie snarled as Marcus walked away. “Just don’t hurt my sister, or I will hurt you!”
“As if you could,” Marcus muttered as he left the arena.
**
Marcus managed to avoid Cottia for most of the day, but she nabbed him after Math, despite his attempt to flee with only a nod at Esca, who had stayed behind to talk to the teacher. About his coming workload, no doubt.
“Marcus, wait up,” she said, so he did, stepping out of the flow of human traffic that filled the hallway.
“Hi Cottia,” he said as she caught up, threading an arm through his and leading him toward her locker.
“I had a really great time last night, Marcus,” she said, peering up at him through her lashes. He supposed it was meant to be attractive.
“I did too,” he said, smiling. He didn’t have to lie about that, it was a good time until he’d dropped her off.
“That’s wonderful,” she beamed, and Marcus felt a twinge of guilt at her clearly mistaking his meaning. “I think we should do it again.”
“I, okay,” he said before his brain could catch up to his mouth. Then again, this was what he had wanted, wasn’t it?
“Wonderful,” Cottia said, stopping and throwing her arms around his neck, again. She didn’t let go the way she had the last time, so Marcus took a step back, pulling her arms away, taking her hand and continuing to walk.
“An evening this week, perhaps?” she suggested as they reached her locker. Marcus was grateful to have an excuse to let go of her hand.
“Weekdays are kind of out,” Marcus said. “Even if I don’t have a game, there’s far too much homework to do, and practice comes early.”
“Oh, of course,” Cottia said. “The weekend, then?”
“We have an away trip this weekend, we leave Thursday.”
“Oh yes, I forgot,” she said, quite disappointed now. “We’ll have to do it another time.”
“Some other time,” Marcus said. “But I should get going now. Lots to do, you know.”
“Me too,” Cottia said with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Marcus nodded at her, then headed for his own locker, as quickly as was polite. He couldn’t miss the opportunity to see Esca, after all, if only for a few minutes. Soon he would be gone and Marcus wouldn’t see him for weeks. His chest ached at the thought.
**
That week Marcus scoured all the TV listings he could find, searching for coverage of the Skate America competition, fortunately succeeding without too much effort. He knew he’d be able to find Skate Canada the following week, it was the rest he was unsure about. But he was going to be watching, every weekend until Esca came home.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to be able to watch in real time, so he set his dvr to record the first day of competition, knowing he’d be home in time for the second. Then he packed for the games, the bus was leaving before dawn the next morning.
He hated these long bus rides, crammed in with his teammates, unable to escape, forced to listen to their ridiculous conversations for hours at a time. He usually retreated into his iPod, and this trip would be no exception. At least it was a short trip, only three games and back home late Saturday.
**
Marcus threw himself into his seat, purposefully choosing one close to the front of the bus, not so close that the coach would want to talk, but nowhere near where the bulk of the team sat, laughing and acting like idiots. He quickly put in his headphones and settled down, hoping no one would disturb him. Fortunately, everyone settled down quickly, the return trip was almost always more pleasant, with everyone tired from the game and a long drive through the night ahead.
Usually he tried to get some sleep, these weekends were always exhausting, but he knew Esca had skated his short program that evening while the team had been on the ice, and he was hoping to find highlights.
He found them right away, and felt a surge of gratitude for YouTube. The footage was grainy and the sound deplorable, but to his starving eyes it was a feast. Esca was dressed in black and red, looking impossibly elegant as he leaped and spun around the ice.
All it did was whet Marcus’ appetite. He knew he had the whole thing at home on his dvr, in pristine picture and sound. He was eager to see the scores, not that he understood the intricate scoring process, but he knew what was good and what was bad. And he knew Esca had to have received a very good score, from what he could tell the routine had been perfect.
He watched the video three more times before finally turning off his phone and laying his seat back. It was a three hour drive back to Chilliwack, and if he had enough sleep, maybe he could watch Esca’s routine before he went to bed.
**
Marcus never did watch it that night, despite his nap on the bus, he was completely exhausted when he finally made it home. He didn’t even drag his bag up to his room, leaving it at the bottom of the stairs, planning to get it in the morning. He fell into his bed and was asleep almost immediately, fully clothed.
When he woke, morning sunlight was filtering through his blinds. He groaned and pulled a pillow over his head, willing himself to go back to sleep. He was almost successful until he remembered the grainy, shaky video he’d watched on his phone the night before, realizing that he was now home and he could see it properly.
He pulled himself out of bed and stripped off the clothes he’d slept in, changing into some comfy pj’s. He wasn’t planning on going anywhere that day, so why redress? The clock told him it was not even 8:30, he often slept late after away games, but it was late enough that he was starving. He quickly dashed down the stairs to get himself some breakfast, then headed back up before his uncle came in from the yard, Uncle was a rather fierce gardener and would inevitably trap Marcus with some discussion about the process of preparing his garden for winter, and Marcus just wasn’t in the mood. He had more pressing concerns that morning.
He sank gratefully onto his couch with the remote and before long he was watching avidly as the announcers discussed the skaters in the competition and the performing order was displayed on the screen. Esca was about halfway through, but Marcus waited, listening to the announcers talk about him, his decision to move to Canada to train and from there intending to skate for Canada rather than Great Britain. They sounded surprised at his intentions, but mentioned many other skaters over the years who had chosen to skate for a nation other than the one of their birth.
It made Marcus wonder why Esca has chosen to leave Britain for good, he had never discussed it and Marcus, too caught up in the mere fact of Esca’s presence, had never asked. He determined that he would, when Esca returned.
Once the programs began, Marcus hit the fast forward button, uninterested in the rest of the skaters other than their position as Esca’s competitors. He reached Esca’s program at last, and his heart leapt at the sight of him. His costume was perfectly tailored and he looked stunning in it, much more than a shaky YouTube video could show. This camera gave him close ups that had his heart pounding and long shots that stirred the ache in his chest, the one that Esca had come to fill.
The program was what the title implied, short. Esca was done long before Marcus was ready to stop watching. The program had been flawless, and so very different from watching a shaky phone cam video, as Marcus had before. And this time, he was able to watch as Esca sat in front of the camera to await his score. Andrew sat with him, discussing his performance, if Marcus listened carefully, he could hear the occasional word over the announcer’s discussion.
The scores came in and Marcus was unsurprised that they placed Esca in the lead, far above the others, so far. Esca’s smile was wide and Andrew looked very pleased. Marcus was beaming also. This brief glimpse of Esca was like a balm, smoothing over the empty place inside him where Esca had come to live.
Marcus watched it again, and then watched a few of the other skaters, to get a better idea of what Esca was up against. Some of them were very good and some not so much and, in the end, Esca was in third place, with the long program to come.
Marcus was impatient for it to begin. According to the broadcast, coverage would start at six that evening although Esca, having placed so high in the short program, would skate near the end, third to last. Marcus sighed, turning off the machine and gathering his dishes, including a few from the previous week. It was only just 10am, he had plenty of time to kill.
**
By the time 6pm rolled around, Marcus had exhausted every method of distraction. He had cleaned and put away his gear from the game, cleaned his room, and did some laundry even though he knew Sassy would have been happy to do it. He went for a swim and spent some time with the weights, then spent the afternoon finishing up any homework in preparation for the coming school week. Then he surfed around online for a while, trying to distract himself but failing when he found himself searching for information about the next several weeks competition, the Grand Prix of figure skating.
Finally he padded downstairs for dinner with his uncle and Stephan. He had debated skipping dinner or eating it in his room, but he knew it would be several hours before Esca performed and watching the seemingly endless line of skaters before him would just frustrate Marcus.
“Marcus, you’ve decided to join us!” Uncle said, gesturing Marcus to sit.
“Seemed like the thing to do,” Marcus said, sitting down and beginning to fill his plate.
“How was the game last night?” Stephan asked, and Marcus was grateful for the distraction.
“We lost, though I scored a goal and got an assist,” he said, grinning at them both. It had been a good game, but their goalie had been off his game a bit. They launched into a discussion about the relative merits of goaltenders vs goal scorers, and before Marcus knew it, it was after seven o’clock.
“Will you join us in the TV room, or are you planning on hiding in your bedroom the rest of the night?” Uncle asked. Marcus was about to decline, but then Stephan spoke up.
“We thought we’d watch the Skate America competition,” Stephan said, sharing a sly look with Uncle. “Isn’t Esca poised to place in the top three?”
“He’s in third after the short program, if I recall,” Uncle said, and Marcus just looked at them in surprise.
Uncle laughed, throwing an arm around Marcus’ shoulder and all but dragging him into the TV room. “Come on boy, watch it with us,” he insisted, so Marcus agreed.
So they watched together, which was much more amusing for Marcus than watching alone. Uncle and Stephan were able to distract him, although he did become increasingly more restless as Esca’s turn approached. Marcus was dismayed to see him drop in the standings and had to assure himself that it would all even out when Esca skated his program.
Finally the top skaters were up and there was Esca, gliding around the ice, warming up with small, slow jumps and lazy spins, along with the last batch of skaters. Before too long they were all filing off the ice, all but one.
It was almost harder to watch now that it was so close, but soon enough, Esca was taking the ice, positioning himself and waiting for the music. Marcus was on the edge of his seat, literally. Esca looked as good as he had the previous night, this time he was dressed all in white, with blue Celtic designs embroidered down one leg and across his torso. Marcus thought he looked fabulous, and so did the announcers. The female one in particular was an admirer.
The music started and Esca began moving, arms and legs in concert to portray a hunt, an escape, the music building in places and quieting in others, in tune with his movements, jumps, spins, footwork, all combining in a seemingly effortless dance of emotion and artistry. Finally, the music faded as Esca’s movements slowed, until he collapsed into a pile in the center of the rink, the last few notes dissipating.
And then the applause began. It was thunderous, even through the television. Esca rose gracefully and waved, bowing to one side of the arena and then the next, stopping to pick up several bouquets that had been tossed on the ice before he skated toward the boards and a beaming Andrew, who embraced him when he stepped off the ice.
“Wow,” Uncle said from behind Marcus, who was still on the edge of the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. Esca’s hair was windswept, his cheeks flushed from exertion, but his eyes were alive, sparkling with excitement and accomplishment.
“He’s really talented, isn’t he?” Uncle said.
“Quite,” confirmed Stephan. “I haven’t seen a program like that in, well, perhaps ever.”
“He wants to go to the Olympics,” Marcus said absently, watching Esca and Andrew conferring as they had the night before, only this time with more back slapping and even wider grins.
“He’ll make it,” Uncle said, slapping Marcus on the back, as if it were somehow his accomplishment as well.
They didn’t have long to wait before the scores were posted, provoking roars from the crowd and an utterly stunned look on Esca’s face. Andrew was hugging him again, practically bouncing up and down, but Esca still looked like someone had turned him off.
“Excellent score,” Uncle said, and the announcer confirmed it, saying that he was almost assured first place, so wide was the gap between his score and those that had preceded him. Finally the furor died down, a grin beginning to appear on Esca’s face, just in time for a commercial break.
Marcus sighed, lying back on the couch, feeling as if he’d just played a shift. They sat in anticipation as the final two skaters performed, both were very good as well, but neither moved the crowd the way Esca had. The second to last fumbled some footwork and dropped out of the top three but the last performed perfectly.
The wait for the scores was interminable. Esca had secured second place, at least, but he had a very good shot at being first. Marcus waited on the edge of the couch once more, his leg bouncing until, at last, the score were displayed. When the numbers added up, Marcus jumped of the couch, yelling, “yes!” at the top of his lungs.
Uncle and Stephan clapped and cheered as well, but Marcus felt as if he’d won the league championships. He watched Esca jumping and hugging Andrew and wished more than anything else that he was there, that he was the one Esca threw his arms around with excitement.
He sat back down with a sigh as the final standings were displayed on the screen and the announcers discussed Esca’s win and how he had come from a year of missed competitions and yet had skyrocketed to the top of the sport. When the feed came back to the pit, it showed Andrew grinning at the camera, but Esca was behind him, his back turned to the camera.
They wanted Esca for an interview, but Andrew held them back insisting, “he’s just making a call back home, won’t be long,” and proceeding to answer questions himself.
Marcus’ pocket suddenly came to life, the tinny voice of Gordon Downie singing, “Every time you go, you are all I see...” before Marcus pulled it out and answered, jumping off the couch and stepping just out of the room.
“Esca?” he said, breathless, unable to believe that Esca was calling him at that moment.
“Marcus!” Esca exclaimed, the excitement clear in his voice. “I was hoping you’d be up.”
“Of course I am,” Marcus replied. “We just finished watching you kick that other guy’s ass!”
Esca laughed, delighted. “You saw?”
“I did,” Marcus said. “You were amazing, I couldn't tear my eyes away.”
“Really? Marcus,” he said, his voice becoming quiet. “Just a minute,” he said, louder, they must have been getting impatient to interview him.
“Marcus,” he repeated, his voice quiet again. “I wish you could be here.”
Marcus swallowed, his stomach flipping just a little. “I wish I could too,” he said at last. “But I’ll be watching every chance I get.”
“It’s good to know,” Esca said. “I have to go but, I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Yeah, you do that,” Marcus replied. “I’ll be here. Bye.”
“Bye,” Esca said, and the line went dead. Marcus stood looking at the phone, reading that their call had lasted less than two minutes. Not nearly long enough. Then he heard Esca’s voice again, this time from the TV, so he went back in.
“...had to let them know,” Esca was saying.”I’ve made some good friends since I moved to Canada.”
“You seem to be doing well with the move,” the interviewer was saying, “if that performance was anything to go by.”
“I have to give some of the credit for that to Andrew,” Esca said, patting his coach on the shoulder. “He’s helped me a lot, given me some tips that have really taken my skating to the next level.”
“He’s an excellent pupil,” Andrew said, shoving Esca’s head away, making him laugh.
“You see what I have to put up with?” Esca said, beaming. Marcus felt his stomach flip again. Esca was utterly beautiful.
The interviewer laughed. “We’ll let you get back to celebrating. Good luck in next week’s competition,” and the camera panned out, searching for another person to interview.
Marcus couldn’t believe that Esca has called him, so soon after his victory. He couldn’t wipe the grin from his face, nor stop the pounding of his heart.
“Is Esca well, then?” Uncle asked, sharing a look with Stephan. They had clearly been discussing him, but Marcus didn’t even care.
“He’s amazing,” Marcus answered, smiling at them. “I’m off to bed, practice in the morning.” They called their good-nights and he went upstairs, attending to his nightly routine with a sappy smile on his face and a stomach full of butterflies.
He made sure all his school supplies were in his bag and dropped it by the door. He double checked his hockey bag and tossed and extra roll of tape in there for good measure. Then he cleaned up, brushed his teeth and took a piss before climbing into bed and turning off the light.
He laid back, unable to stop thoughts of Esca from flooding his mind, unwilling to even try. The way he’d felt when he’d watched Esca skate that night came rushing back and, without any more denial, he reached down and pulled his cock out of his pants, pushing back the duvet. He stroked himself, picturing Esca in his mind, the graceful, sinuous movements he’d made on the ice, the power evident in his small frame as he threw himself into the air and landed, impossibly, on a thin blade of sharpened steel.
His hand moved faster and faster, the other dropping to tug at his balls, his breath catching, gasping with the intensity of his thoughts. Suddenly his mind threw him back to that summer day by the pool, the sunlight flowing over Esca’s soft skin, skin he had held in his hands for one brief, timeless moment. He remembered Esca’s head thrown back in laughter, the strong column of his neck bared, and he imagined tasting it, leaning forward and running his lips, his tongue, over the muscle there, feeling Esca’s voice as it murmured his name in that smooth, accented baritone.
He came, gasping as the breath left his body, splatters of come dotting his belly and t-shirt, slipping down to coat his hand and cock, even as his movements slowed. He stayed like that for several minutes, panting for breath as pictures of Esca continued to flow through his mind. He began to drift off, exhaustion overtaking him once more, so he sat up and quickly pulled off his soiled shirt, using it to wipe his belly and hand, and then tossed it in the direction of his laundry hamper. It fell short, but he didn’t care. He’d get it in the morning.
He rolled over, pulling the duvet up and burrowed into his pillow and fell asleep, with Esca’s program still replaying in his mind.
**
Cottia attached herself to him like a limpet as soon as he arrived at school the following day.
“Marcus!” she exclaimed, clinging to his arm. “Did you see Esca last night? It was amazing! I’ve never seen anyone skate like that, never, and I can hardly believe he’s our friend!”
Marcus pulled his arm free so that he could unlock his locker, unable to stop thinking that Esca was his friend, thank you very much, and Cottia was just weaseling her way in. Then he reminded himself that he was being unfair and that she had every right to befriend Esca, and why wouldn’t she want to? He was completely different than anyone Marcus had ever met.
To be fair, Cottia was pretty amazing too. How someone like her had shared a womb with someone like Charlie, Marcus couldn’t fathom. He was starting to feel that maybe he should be honest with her. Sure, she may be crushing on him, but she had a rational head on her shoulders, and, unlike her brother, she wasn’t ruled by fear and homophobia. She would understand, he knew it.
Then again, telling another person, any other person was not part of the plan. He was trying to fix things, not screw them up further.
“I know, I saw,” Marcus said, smiling at her genuinely for the first time all semester then turning to rummage in his locker. “He called me after, so I would have known anyway.”
“He...wait,” she said, pulling at his arm and making him look at her. “Was that you he called when they were trying to interview him?” She looked utterly flabbergasted, and Marcus flushed.
“Uhh, yeah,” he said, grabbing his books and closing the locker.
“Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought he was calling his Grandma.”
“Nope,” Marcus said. “I gotta get to class, Cottia, I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, but then she shook herself and called after him. “No, wait!”
He turned around, surprised by the change that had come over her. She was in full on simper now. “I know for sure you don’t have any games this weekend, and Esca isn’t around so you won’t be hanging out with him.”
Marcus nodded, unable to deny anything.
“So I am insisting you take me to the movie on Saturday. Deal?” She gave him a look that she probably thought would induce him to obey, and while it did nothing for him, he considered. Pleasing Cottia would go a long way to throwing Charlie and anybody else off the trail, and that was the plan after all, wasn’t it? He had to stop losing sight of that, so he agreed.
“Sure, sounds good,” he said, smiling. “We’ll figure the rest out later, yeah?”
“Okay,” she said, bouncing. “See you in Math!” and with that she was off down the hallway, leaving him staring after her. She really was a lovely girl and he felt bad for deceiving her. But, it wasn’t deception when he was trying, was it? He thought of the wank he’d had the previous night and cringed. Maybe he needed to try harder. Now, while Esca wasn’t around to distract him.
**
But Esca still managed to distract him. Marcus couldn’t get Esca out of his head all day, his smooth movement on the ice, his beaming face when he’d won, the low intimate tone in his voice when he’d told Marcus that he wished he was there. All of it kept spinning around and around until finally Luke took him aside and asked him what was the matter.
“Nothing,” he said, not able to meet Luke’s eyes. “I’m just tired, it was a long ride this weekend, and Esca’s skate was on last night until way later than I usually stay up.”
“Oh yeah?” Luke asked, interested. “How’d he do?”
“He won,” Marcus said, smiling at the memory. “Kicked the Russian guy’s ass too.”
“Did he?”
“Yeah, handed it to him on a plate, it was amazing.” Marcus couldn’t help but laugh. “Poor guy didn’t even know what hit him.”
“Wow, that’s pretty cool,” Luke said, patting Marcus on the back. “Just get more sleep tonight, eh? Practice in the morning, can’t have you worn out for that.”
“No worries,” Marcus said. “I’m always ready for hockey.”
**
He managed to keep his head in the game for the rest of the week, though Esca called a few times, pulling him right back up into the clouds. He called once he’d arrived in Ottawa, they had been able to spend more time talking, as Esca didn’t have training until the following day.
The date with Cottia had gone well, just like the last they spoke of Esca a lot, namely his performance in the short program on Friday night-for which Marcus had declined invites to several Hallowe’en parties, to the dismay of his friends-and their anticipation of the upcoming long program on Sunday. Cottia had suggested they watch it together, but Marcus had put her off, claiming that he would need to sleep, which was not a lie. The time difference was an annoyance, and it was only going to get worse. Esca left the continent the following Tuesday, making phone calls and stalking him via television problematic.
But Marcus had another problem, one he had not anticipated but had come to dominate his mind. He and Cottia had been spending more time together, and he found himself unable to make further excuses as to why he didn’t want to kiss her. Or touch her, or do anything but hang out. As a seventeen year old boy in the presence of a beautiful young girl who was smart and funny and clearly liked him, he was becoming more suspect than he had if he’d not been dating anyone.
So he kissed her, as rarely as he could, but enough to keep her happy. Marcus was not so happy about it. He’d never kissed anyone before and found himself increasingly wishing it was Esca who he was kissing. So much so that several times he’d had to pull out of the kiss to assure himself he was kissing Cottia instead.
Until she began to press closer, which was a brand new frustration.
If Marcus had maintained any further doubts that he was gay, feeling Cottia’s full breasts pressed against his chest as she kissed him would have done away with them. He had no more illusions on that score, though he steadfastly held to his conviction that he could pretend, that he could show one thing to the world and keep the truth to himself.
He had to. There had never been an openly gay hockey player in the NHL, not an active one, at any rate. The attitude of those in the sport, from the top of the organization to the bottom, was that hockey was a man’s sport almost exclusively. Many of the people involved went so far as to look down on women’s hockey, the thought of a gay man in the NHL was completely alien to them. It was unfathomable.
And Marcus knew this. He knew his career would be in serious jeopardy if anyone were to discover his secret. How he felt about Esca wouldn’t matter to them. They would see him as a pansy, assume he was a weak, ineffectual player, and dismiss him out of hand, most of them without ever seeing him play.
He simply couldn’t risk it. So he continued dating Cottia, week after week, feeling more and more guilty about it. Instead of thinking about that, he focused on following Esca avidly as he skated around the globe, placing consistently in the top four and placing first more often than not. He was taking the figure skating world by storm, to the delight of some and dismay of others. Great Britain in particular seemed disappointed to lose him, but Esca had officially immigrated and had obtained a permanent residence card, in prelude to getting his citizenship.
Marcus occasionally wondered why, and told himself he would ask the next time Esca called, but with every phone call, he was so distracted by the sound of Esca’s voice and his excitement that he forgot, every time.
**
The fall went by in a whirl, Marcus kept busy with one thing after another, but as time passed the sound of Esca’s voice was no longer enough to fill the void his presence had left in Marcus’ life. It didn’t even stem the tide anymore, it only made Marcus ache more, the pressure building in his chest as they spoke on the phone. It was becoming unbearable, and Cottia wasn’t the only one who had noticed.
Luke had also been paying attention and finally, one Sunday in December, he confronted Marcus. He chose the bus ride returning them from another away trip their last before Christmas. The last game had been in Portland, which made for a long bus ride home, so Luke had plenty of time to ambush him.
“Hey Marcus,” Luke said, dropping into the seat beside Marcus with a look that had Marcus pulling headphones out of his ears. “Good game last night,” he said.
“Thanks,” Marcus grinned. It had been a good game, he’d scored three goals and assisted two others. One goal had been a breakaway, an opportunity created by his speed, something he had been working on in particular during practices.
“You have seemed rather distracted, though,” Luke commented. Marcus sighed. He knew he had been, the only time he was truly able to put Esca out of his mind was when he was on the ice, particularly during a game. Any other time and his mind spun with confusion, uncertainty and anticipation.
“I know, sorry,” Marcus said. “There's been a lot on my mind.”
“I understand,” Luke said, nodding sagely. “Cottia?”
Marcus flushed at the thought of her. It was becoming harder and harder to be around her without the guilt overwhelming him. He was using her, plain and simple, using her to distract those around him from something that was becoming harder and harder to hide. All that when she’d been nothing but wonderful to him. She was a good friend, and she didn’t deserve the way he was treating her.
“Yeah, I just,” Marcus turned in his seat to face him better. “I don’t think she’s the one for me, you know?”
Luke nodded. “Go on,” he said.
“It’s just that she’s such a sweet girl. I really like her an awful lot, we don’t have any problems talking, and hanging out with her is always a lot of fun but there’s just no...spark.” Marcus sighed, feeling a little bit lighter already. It was very freeing to tell Luke the truth, even if it wasn’t the whole truth.
“Yeah, that would put a damper on things,” Luke replied thoughtfully. “But if it isn’t working out, you need to tell her. I think she likes you a lot, Marcus.”
“I know she does, and I feel bad about it.” Marcus laid his head on the head rest and closed his eyes. “I just don’t know how to go about it. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“Marcus, my lad, I think that’s going to happen no matter how you do it, and waiting around isn’t going to make it any easier,” Luke said and Marcus was suddenly very grateful for his friend’s support.
“I know, you’re right,” Marcus agreed. “I’ll have to do it soon.”
“You should,” Luke said. He sat back as well, and they enjoyed a companionable silence for awhile, broken only by the sounds of their teammates being idiots.
“Just don’t tell Charlie, alright?” Marcus said, tossing Luke an imploring look.
“I won’t,” Luke said. “I’d rather not tell him anything, he’s been such a prick lately. Though he’s laid off since you’ve been dating his sister, and since Esca left.”
“Yeah,” Marcus said, unable to stop his cheeks from heating. He hoped Luke wouldn’t see in the dim light of the bus, or at least wouldn’t comment.
“So, if it isn’t Cottia, is there someone else?” Luke asked, and Marcus hated him again. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
“I...I don’t know,” Marcus said, unable to lie to his friend but unwilling to tell the whole truth. “It’s complicated.”
“Hmm,” Luke said, his eyes narrowing, but Marcus was saved by his phone.
“Is that the Hip?” Luke asked. Marcus nodded. “You and the Hip,” Luke said, rolling his eyes.
“I should get this,” Marcus said. Luke stood up with a sigh. “I can take a hint,” he said, heading back to his seat.
“Esca?” Marcus said excitedly. “Hi! Yeah, I heard about it..”
**
The last game before Christmas found Marcus more anxious than any game he’d played previously. There was a rumour that a scout from the Canucks was planning to attend, although the chances of it being true weren’t great. Still, even if there was a scout there, that wasn’t what had Marcus on edge. He’d been scouted before, after all, and he would be again.
Esca had arrived home the night before. Marcus hadn’t seen him yet, but they’d talked on the phone that morning, before Esca had gone to bed again to sleep away the jet lag. He’d told Marcus that he was planning to attend the game that evening, his first live hockey game, and Marcus was jittery.
Finally they were on the ice having a warm up skate, but Marcus was surreptitiously scanning the stands for sight of Esca. And finally, Marcus saw him, where he should have been looking all along. He was seated beside Uncle, in the second seat that Uncle had purchased. He always secured seasons tickets, and shared the second slot with a variety of people. Marcus was thrilled to see Esca there.
When he was called to center ice for the face-off, he put the spectators out of his mind, all of them, Esca, his uncle and the possibly imaginary Canucks scout. He put his head down and got on with the game, grateful that Uncle’s seats were behind the bench and not across from it.
The game went by quickly, they usually did for Marcus, but tonight it was even faster. Marcus scored four goals, in a game that had quickly become a rout, assisting with two others. Marcus counted his assists as highly as his goals, he knew that anyone could slap a shot on net, but setting someone else up to score was a vital skill, and just as valued, if not more. Marcus was nothing if not a team player.
The locker room was jubilant after the game, everyone was pleased with the win and the upcoming holidays. Marcus was happy to be having some time off, as he hoped he’d get to see Esca lots, but he was disappointed that they’d be off practices as well, if only for a week.
Marcus didn’t want to hang around long after the game, but he had a hard time slipping away. Just as he had managed it, his phone buzzed. He dug it out of his pocket, reading the text and grinning.
Good game. See you at home. Later. Uncle.
Marcus sent a, ‘:D’ back, pocketing the phone again and dragging his gear out to the truck. As he approached, he was thrilled to see that someone had thrown down the tailgate and was sitting on the edge, humming to some unheard music, legs swinging to the beat only he could hear.
Marcus’ face split in a grin so wide his cheeks ached.
“Hey!” he hollered as he approached, his breath catching as Esca looked up at him. His face was dimly lit by the lights in the parking lot, but Marcus could see the chill on his cheeks and nose, his hair tucked under a toque.
“Get off my truck, you hooligan,” he called, jogging the last few feet and tossing the bag into the back.
“I’ll sit where I want,” Esca said, giving Marcus a cheeky grin. “Besides, who is going to stop me?”
“Not me,” Marcus said, coming to stand in front of Esca, starving eyes raking over him desperately. Finally he reached out a hand and took Esca’s, pulling him off the tailgate and into an embrace. Esca clung to him and he clung back, and he was certain it went on for far too long, if they were only friends.
He pulled back at last, his hands rubbing up and down Esca’s shoulders while Esca’s rested lightly on his hips. Their eyes met and held, and suddenly the cold didn’t seem to matter. Esca was smiling at him, his face such a sight after so long apart, and Marcus had to let go before he did something he couldn’t take back.
“I’ve missed you,” he said instead, stepping around Esca to put up the tailgate, then leaning back against it. Esca turned around to face him again, and Marcus’ heart clenched when he saw the expression in his eyes, the disappointment.
“I missed you too,” Esca said, smiling again, disappointment passing. “Now buy me some coffee, hockey boy, it’s damn cold out here.”
Marcus grinned widely again, giving Esca’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’re on.”
**
They ended up at Tim Horton’s, as most Canadians do on chilly winter nights. They ordered lattes, vanilla for Marcus and hazelnut for Esca, and a 10 pack of Timbits, as Marcus was always hungry after a game, then found a booth on the side of the restaurant opposite a large group of giggling teenagers.
They settled in, shucking their coats, Esca pulling off his mitts and toque as well. Marcus could only stare at him with badly disguised longing. His hair was shorter than it had been when he’d left, but unlike when Marcus had seen him on TV, it was mussed and soft, no gel to be seen. Marcus swallowed and reached for a Timbit.
“So, your first hockey game,” Marcus said, popping a chocolate glaze into his mouth. “How’d you like it?”
“It was...exciting,” Esca admitted, his face adding, ‘and I can’t believe I liked it’.
“I told ya,” Marcus said, grinning as he ate another Timbit. “No one should be allowed to say they don’t like hockey until they’ve seen it played live.”
“I think I have to agree,” Esca said, sipping his latte. “The atmosphere, the speed, the crowd, it all makes so much more sense when you’re there.”
“I know.”
“I can even understand the propensity to fight,” Esca admitted, surprising Marcus.
“Oh really?” he said, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, with all the emotion and the passion and everyone moving so quickly, I imagine you get quite caught up in it.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Marcus said, nodding. “When I’m on the ice, everything else seems to fade away and it’s just me and the puck, you know? Oh, and those other guys.”
Esca laughed and Marcus felt at peace for the first time in almost two months.
“It’s a lot more intense in the NHL too, the skill level is higher and the game is even more fast paced. If you liked tonight’s game, you’d love to see the Canucks live,” Marcus added, trying to sip his latte without burning his tongue.
“We should go,” Esca said, looking at his latte thoughtfully.
“What, already?” Marcus said.
“No, not now, to a game,” Esca replied, rolling his eyes. “A Canucks game.”
“Oh. That’s a great idea,” Marcus said, beaming. “I haven’t been to one all season.”
“We need to go this year though, before you’re drafted and I’ll have to go alone.”
Marcus chuckled. “Here’s hoping,” he said, raising his mug and then taking another sip.
“So, how was your trip? Kicking ass all over the world must have been tiring,” Marcus said, and Esca laughed delightedly, making Marcus’ breath stop. He looked so happy that Marcus wanted to live in that moment forever.
“It was amazing. I got to see a little bit of every city we went to, and it was really great to meet all the other skaters. I’ve seen some of them skate before, to be competing against them was a whole other thing,” he said, eyes bright.
“I can imagine,” Marcus said. “You were amazing though, some of the others were really good, but you were in a class all your own.”
“Thanks,” Esca said, flushing. “It was a lot of hard work, but so worth it. I’ll definitely get on the Olympic team at this rate.”
“It’s a sure thing. Uncle and Stephan think so too. And Cottia,” Marcus added.
“So she’s said,” Esca said, chucking. “Her emails were positively glowing.”
“At least you were spared the live version,” Marcus added.
“For now,” Esca replied, sipping his latte. “So, how are things between you two?” he asked quietly, spinning his drink around inside the mug.
“Oh, uh, alright, I guess,” Marcus said, staring at his own drink. “We’ve gone out a few times, but I just don’t think it’s working.” He looked up, seeing Esca looking at him and their gazes caught, stretching the moment out impossibly.
“That’s too bad,” Esca said, holding his gaze, and Marcus got the feeling that he didn’t think it was a bad thing at all. Marcus tore his eyes away, peering into the Timbit box and fishing out the last chocolate one.
“So, tell me more about the wide world,” he said, munching.
**
They spent another hour or so talking about the world, what Esca had seen and what Marcus wanted to. Esca mentioned he’d be heading to Finland in January for the European Championships, which Marcus thought exciting.
It was quite frosty when they left, and when Esca pulled his toque back on, Marcus mourned the messy head, although it was soon traded for rosy cheeks, which were just as fetching.
“Do you want a ride?” he asked, but Esca shook his head.
“No, I’m not too far, and it’s cold but it’s a nice night anyway,” he said.
“I’ll walk with you,” Marcus said, following.
They walked in silence until they reached Esca’s building, but instead of going in, Esca pulled himself up to sit on the retaining wall out front, so Marcus leaned against it, beside him. There they stayed, the silence companionable, but Marcus felt the tension between them differently than he had before Esca had gone. There was a new awareness and for once, Marcus didn’t try to dismiss it immediately.
“Do you ever think there’s someone out there who is perfect for you?” Esca asked suddenly. Marcus looked at him, his breath catching at the sight of Esca with his face turned toward the clear, star-lit sky. “And if you can just meet them, everything will fall into place and you’ll be happy?”
Marcus thought for a few moments before speaking. “I think it’s more complicated than that,” he replied at last, his heart pounding. “Sometimes things don’t work out that easy, even if you--” he bit off the words, unable to complete the sentence that he had just then realized, would be the truth.
“And what if they pass you by?” Esca asked, turning to face Marcus, his eyes fiery and intent, drawing Marcus closer, turning his body towards Esca so that he could almost feel the heat rising between them. “What if you let them go? And what if you never get the chance again?” Esca continued, his voice low, strained.
“Esca,” Marcus said, but his brain had stopped working at the look in Esca’s eyes. And then his body moved, independently of brain function, for once he followed his heart instead of his treacherous head. He moved closer, smoothing a hand up Esca’s knee, feeling the strong muscle there, even through the fabric of his jeans.
“Esca, I,” he whispered, but then he leaned forward and they were kissing, a soft almost intangible press of lips, followed by a deeper, rougher melding, heat warming their lips, removing the chill of the night air.
“Marcus,” Esca gasped, cupping Marcus’ face, his hands sliding over Marcus’ jaw and into his hair, even as Marcus’ had come up to clasp Esca’s neck, pulling him closer. Soon one of them opened up and then his tongue was in Esca’s mouth, tasting and feeling as if he was a starving man and Esca was the only sustenance to be found.
“Marcus,” Esca repeated between kisses, tugging Marcus closer, his legs falling open to admit Marcus between them. “Finally,” he whispered, smiling against Marcus’ mouth, opening for another kiss, but Marcus jerked back, stepping out of his embrace, shuddering as the cold rushed in between them once more.
“No, I...this isn’t how it’s supposed, I can’t,” he babbled, staring fixedly at Esca’s shocked face and his red, shiny lips. “No, no, it’s...I’m...I’ll see you,” he said, tearing himself away, not missing the betrayed look flash across Esca’s face.
“Marcus!” he called, but Marcus didn’t turn back as he jogged toward the road. “Marcus, don’t!” he tried again, but Marcus just dashed across the street, his heart pounding as Esca’s voice faded away behind him.
Part 3