this is the last place he has to go.
Title: Home Is You Coming Back (3/3)
Pairing: Thomas Greiss/ Antti Niemi, mentioned past Cristobal Huet/Antti Niemi and one-sided Thomas Greiss/Evgeni Nabokov
Rating: R
Warnings: slash, memories of abuse/non-con, mentions of past depression and suicidal urges
Fandom: Hockey
Summary: When you love someone, you hold onto them until the very last second.
Antti was extremely familiar with the feeling of worthlessness. He knew intimately how it felt to believe you were unwanted, unworthy, insignificant, and so very small. He knew what it felt like to be hurt night after night, how it felt to not have a voice in what happened to him, how it felt to be unable to stand up for himself.
Thanks to Cristobal, Antti knew how it felt to be low.
For a long time, Antti believed he’d never feel differently, with or without Cristobal. For a long time, Antti lived feeling like he didn’t belong, like he wasn’t worthy of anything. He felt useless, and no matter how much Brian told him otherwise, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. He didn’t have any hope left.
“It gets better, Antti.”
“Does it?”
There are moments where Antti still kind of feels that way. After games where he couldn’t seem to bring himself to perform to his standards, when he let in goals that shouldn’t have been goals, when he saw the hurt on Logan’s face-the baby of the team, they had an unspoken agreement not to hurt Logan, whatever they did- and he knew it was his fault. Those moments.
He tried, he really did. He pushed those thoughts away, he stopped himself from shutting out the world in his apartment, he talked more- to the team, to coach, even to reporters- he refused to be a recluse. He did everything in his power to try and claw out of the deep hole that his ex had left him in- he fought tooth and nail to shove the memory of Cristobal away. When he did feel like he felt during that relationship, it wasn’t because he didn’t try to fight it. To hell with that idea.
Everyone knows Antti’s a fighter.
So, he fought, and the feelings came and went, but ultimately what kept them away most of the time was less of what Antti did and more of what another person did.
His name is Thomas Greiss.
--
February 2010
“Antti!”
Vancouver International was loud as hell. The blond Finn was staring around him with wide blue eyes, debating just turning around and flying back to Chicago when he heard the call, the only Finnish in a swarm of French and English. Eyes searched for the source desperately until a tall man waving madly came into view.
Lips stretching into the first real smile in months, Antti weaved through the crowd until he found himself in front of Antero. His friend- more like his brother, he certainly acted like an older brother would- smiled back just as widely, slipping his sunglasses off his face.
“Hei, Antero,” and Antti found himself wrapped in a fierce embrace. He dropped his bag and returned the hug, burying his face into Antero’s shoulder with a small sigh of relief.
Cristobal would not find him here.
He was safe.
Right?
Pushing those thoughts aside, he leaned back and looked at Antero, who reached out and ruffled Antti’s hair quickly.
“Lopeta tuo,” Antti said with a false scowl that Antero managed to see right through. The man just laughed and did it again before releasing him and turning to the three others with him. Antti felt his mouth go dry- he hadn’t realized others were here, and Cristobal-related anxiety reared up within him once more. As if on cue, he heard his phone ring, the tone he’d designated for his boyfriend making his blood run cold.
“Kuka se on?” Antero asked lightly, his tone suggesting he already knew the answer. Antti swallowed thickly and shrugged. A small huff from Antero before one of the guests interrupted.
“Hey, you must be Antti,” the tallest man Antti had ever seen in his life held out his hand for an introduction and Antti tentatively shook it, a small smile accompanying the blush on his face.
“Hi,” he offered quietly, ignoring the exasperated sigh and nudge Antero gave him. To his immense relief, the enormous man gently smiled brilliantly back.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he replied. “I’m Joe, Joe Thornton, and this is-”
“Evgeni,” the much shorter man that Thornton was attempting to introduce smoothly interrupted and also shook his head. “Evgeni Nabokov.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Antti managed, amazed the words were able to leave his mouth.
He was currently meeting players from the San Jose Sharks and he was having a small problem with breathing.
“They’re playing for their national teams,” Antero explained, English for the benefit of his friends. “Preparing themselves to lose to Finland.”
“That’s what you think,” Thornton said easily. “Hey- where’s-”
“Thomas,” and the owner of the voice elbowed his way past Thornton to hold out his hand. “Thomas Greiss, and they never told me how absolutely attractive you are.”
Antti coughed and turned about eighteen shades of red at once, fighting back a laugh, a smile and the urge to faint.
He was not a woman, he thought to himself, and it worked right up until the darker man KISSED HIS HAND and Antti just about died.
“Easy,” Antero said menacingly, and- what was his name?- smiled cheekily and released his hand with a wink.
“Nice to meet you,” and the German accent was hot as hell already, but combined with what came next-
“Antti.”
This was not what Antti expected in the best possible way.
--
Once upon a time, Thomas Greiss was diagnosed with depression.
It sounds like the beginning of a bad fairy tale that a drunk parent would tell their kid, but this is Thomas. Thomas had always found it easier to deal with certain things if he treated them like a joke. Constantly. So, he did.
In his head, if he allowed a goal, or made a bad play, or rode the bench behind Evgeni Nabokov, he just laughed to himself and thought “oh, it must be the depression.”
He had that permanent goofy smile of his face whenever anyone looked at him, and inside his head, he ridiculed his own emotions, and everything was fine and dandy. It was fucking glorious, as a matter of fact, and fuck you if you thought any different, Nabs. You’re wrong.
Thomas Greiss was fine, and he refused to even mention the word depression around the outside world. he didn’t tell anyone, up to and including his sister- who probably deserved to know. He didn’t care, it hurt to much to even think about or imagine the looks on their faces if he let it slip, it hurt to think that anyone would blame themselves.
Really, it was just that Thomas had shit luck. Everything that he got in life was followed by complete and utter crap because that’s what God thought of Thomas, apparently. He got a spot on an NHL team, but constantly rode the bench. He was able to find himself while in California, rediscover things he’d hidden away, but when he told his family, he lost all of them but his sister.
He fell in love for the first time in his life- to a man twice his age and taken. Thomas would rather die a thousand deaths than be a homewrecker, especially to a friend as treasured as Evgeni Nabokov was, so he suffered in silence.
So, see, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just that God had it out for him. That’s all.
God lovingly continued this road of Thomas Greiss Destruction in Vancouver, after he was named to Team Germany, and this time the destruction had a name.
It was Antti Niemi, and he was fucking attractive.
--
February 2010
Thomas briefly considered punching Evgeni in the face. His resolve to be as nonviolent as possible was being further and further tested and Evgeni’s fucking smirk was not helping anything at all, period.
“Come out of your room, Thomas,” he mimicked under his breath. “Come have dinner with me, my perfect, stupid, better than you boyfriend, and someone you don’t know!”
He paraphrased.
Sending an (unwarranted) glare at the entwined hands of the couple in front of him, he mimed hanging himself, ignoring the horrified looks of the people in the airport.
“There he is!” Evgeni piped up and Thomas fought hard against an eyeroll, staying firmly put as the other two walked up to meet their friend.
Friends, Thomas’ brain automatically corrected himself as the aforementioned man untangled himself from a fierce hug, and then his brain helpfully shorted out because holy shit that man is gorgeous.
Thomas blinked stupidly before he gave himself a semi-drunken shake and rushed to join the others, not even aware of the words tumbling from his mouth. He was only aware of the deep red blush steadily covering the other and how fucking adorable that was.
Running out of words but desperate to keep the blush going, Thomas kissed the man’s hand.
--
That damn poodle liked Antti more than she liked Thomas and Thomas had owned her for like five years. He tried not to be offended at a dog and when Antti saw his face he just laughed.
“What’s wrong?” he teased and Thomas scowled.
“Nothing,” he muttered and Antti smirked at him, provoking another scowl that looked suspiciously like a pout from the German. Antti shook his head, a small smile lingering on his lips.
“Thank you for driving me,”Antti changed the subject like a pro and Thomas was momentarily thrown for a loop before he remembered yeah Antti was at his house for a reason and he should probably focus.
“No problem,” he said easily, his voice sounding cool and collected in his head. In reality, it came out slightly choked, and Antti raised an eyebrow.
Thomas cleared his throat.
“Probably allergies,” he said dismissively. “It’s April.”
Antti made a noise of agreement and leaned down again to scratch the damn poodle behind her ears.
“Stupid!” Thomas told her in German, and she huffed in response. “How am I supposed to compete with you, huh?”
Heidi shoved her face into Antti’s arm as if to give Thomas a dog middle finger.
“What did you say to her?” Antti laughed as the dog licked his fingers. Thomas flushed and shrugged.
“I told her she’s a good dog,” he lied smoothly and Heidi glared lazily at him.
“She is,” Antti agreed and ruffled the curly black fur. In a valiant attempt to conceal the shit eating grin that was invading Thomas’ face, the German quickly crossed his living room to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge to search for the water bottles he’d left there last night. He pulled one out, hesitated, and pulled out another.
“Do you want water?” he asked, avoiding actually turning around to face the other man.
“Uh, sure,” and even his voice sounded like he was smiling, damnit. This couldn’t be healthy for Thomas’ heart. Taking a deep breath to try and control himself like a grown-ass man should, he closed the fridge and walked back over to Antti and that stupid dog. He handed the bottle down to the blonde and cleared his throat again.
“I, uh, have to go get my car,” Thomas explained, gesturing vaguely towards the underground garage. “I’ll be right back.”
“Ok,” Antti said with a smile that should be illegal, and Thomas grabbed his keys from the coffee table.
He mentally punched himself in the face as he walked out the door.
--
Antti watched him go and sighed deeply, scratching Heidi on the head when she grew impatient.
“What do you think?” he asked her, and she sneezed.
“Bless you,” Antti laughed and stood to get his things together for practice.
--
“Making up for something?” Antti asked dryly as he climbed up into the passenger seat with a smirk. “And by the way, this is a truck, not a car. Even I know that.”
Thomas glared at the hysterical blond. Oh yeah, tears of laughter definitely streaming down his face. Definitely. Fucking hilarious.
“Excuse me, I have nothing to make up for,” he informed the smug man, who laughed.
“Uh-huh,” he said sarcastically. “I’m sure.” Thomas glared at him and put the truck in gear.
“Unbelievable,” he began, ignoring the eye roll he was sure was directed at him. “I offer you a ride because your car broke down-”
“You offered me a ride before you knew my car broke down,” Antti corrected and Thomas groaned.
“You were getting a ride from Antero,” he emphasized. “Giving you a ride was a favor to the entire team. How do you think we’d do in the playoffs if you got maimed from Antero’s driving?”
Antti laughed without a trace of sarcasm this time, and ran his hands through his hair, pink tinting his face.
“I suppose you deserve a medal,” Antti conceded when he could control himself and Thomas smiled triumphantly.
“Although that would probably only help make up for the issue that your truck does,” and now Thomas wanted to upend his water on the other goalie.
“That’s it, you can walk to practice,” he threatened, and Antti snorted.
“We’re on the freeway,” he pointed out and Thomas groaned.
“And coach thinks you’re quiet and reserved,” he muttered to the amusement of Antti.
“And everyone you ever sleep with thinks-”
“I AM NOT MAKING UP FOR ANYTHING.”
“The first step is admitting you have a problem,” Antti said, undeterred. Thomas briefly debated the merits of pulling off the freeway and really making the other man walk before settling on another groan.
Antti patted his back.
“You’ll get through this,” he said in a passable imitation of soothing and Thomas sighed.
What about Antti did he like again?
--
“Hey, uh, Antti?” Antti looked up from the skates he was re-lacing, eyebrows knitted in surprise as Antero plopped on the seat next to him. The other Finn was looking at him with an expression that was dangerously close to critical and Antti did his best to derail his friend’s thoughts with an annoyed glare.
“What?” Antti asked and Antero cleared his throat, casting a glance around at the locker room that he knew perfectly well was empty. Antti raised an eyebrow as Antero fiddled with his sunglasses for a few minutes before he sighed and set aside his skate, reaching out and laying a hand over Antero’s trembling hands.
“What?” he asked again, his tone now soft instead of harsh. Antero looked up to meet his gaze and his eyes looked like they were swimming with tears, shocking Antti.
“Anter-”
“Can I ask you something?” Antero interrupted, the Finnish replacing English seemingly without thought. His voice caught and he searched Antti’s face for an answer. Struck dumb momentarily, Antti nodded, swallowing.
Antero looked down at his hands, breathing shaky. He lifted both hands and covered Antti’s with them, sunglasses tumbling to the ground. He squeezed Antti’s hand briefly, steeling himself.
“Do you remember, in Vancouver,” he began slowly. “When we were at dinner the first night you were there?”
“Kyllä,” Antti confirmed softly, eyes locked on Antero. The other man nodded and finally met Antti’s gaze.
“You didn’t tell me, but I could tell you knew I was figuring it out,” Antero continued and Antti felt his heart drop fast and he was shaking his head before Antero could continue.
“Antero, ei,” he begged softly. “Please.”
Antero ignored him.
“I should’ve just asked you, but I knew you’d lie,” Antero said and Antti felt tears begin climbing his throat. He wanted to cover his ears, leave the room, anything but talk about this, please, but Antero was beyond listening.
“I answered your phone once, when I thought it was him,” Antti balked at the words, tried to pull away, but Antero held fast. “It wasn’t him, don’t start, but it was someone else, someone who told me.”
“Who-”
“They didn’t say.” Antti knew it was a lie. “But they told me what- what was happening and I- I should have done something. I should have stopped it.”
“Ei, Antero.”
“I should have,” Antero cleared his throat. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Antti’s shoulder, and Antti felt like he was suffocating. “I’m sorry.”
Antti opened his mouth, but before the words could leave, he realized Antero was pulling at the collar of his t-shirt and it happened to fast for Antti to stop and Antero could see, he could see the scars Antti tried so hard to cover every day.
It killed him. He tried to pull away, to run, to hide, because he was trying so hard to move on, but Antero held fast.
Exhale.
“I’m sorry,” Antero repeated, English this time, and Antti threw his arms around him, burying his face into the other Finn’s shoulder and holding on for dear life.
--
The entire time the phone was ringing, Thomas was alternating between wanting to vomit and wanting to smash something large and solid on his head.
He was a moron. Nobody in the history of ever got this fucking nervous about a damn phone call. Nobody. What the hell is his problem? Seriously.
“Hello?”
Craaaaaaap.
“Hey, Antti?”
“Yes Thomas, who else would it be?” Thomas could hear the damn smirk, and he would never let anyone else get away with using this much sarcasm on him, so why the fuck-
He stopped himself right there. Of course he knew why. He needed to stop being stupid now.
“Damn, it is you,” he replied cheekily, and Antti snorted.
“Cute,” he said. “Very cute.”
“I try,” Thomas was grinning like an idiot.
“What’s up?” Antti asked, and Thomas swallowed hard, picking at his countertop to contain his anxiety. Praying his voice wouldn’t shake, he cleared his throat.
“I was just wondering if, um, you wanted to go get dinner sometime?” Thomas asked, heart pounding so hard he was a little worried he wouldn’t be able to calm it. His hand was trembling and he shoved it inside his sweatshirt pocket, chewing on his lip instead.
“When?” Antti’s tone had changed completely, teasing suddenly gone. His voice was light but serious, and Thomas forced himself to breathe. He eyed the clock.
“Um....are you busy tonight?” he said, thanking every lucky star watching out for him that his voice didn’t crack on the question. Every second he waited for Antti’s answer felt like an eternity of not being able to breathe.
“Well, I’m going to dinner with you,” Antti finally, finally replied, the teasing back in his voice. It was a different teasing, a kinder one, and Thomas swore up and down that he didn’t blush. He did crack into a smile, though- he couldn’t help it, sue him.
“Awesome,” Thomas said honestly, not bothering to come up with a witty retort. Antti laughed and it sounded like music.
Oh, God. Thomas was a walking book of cliches.
“So...I’ll see you at seven?” Thomas asked hopefully, and his cheeks hurt from the fucking smile but he didn’t give a shit.
“Yeah,” Antti said. “That’s fine. In your compensating truck.”
“I am not compensating-”
Antti laughed and hung up on him, and Thomas stood at his kitchen counter, looking at his phone and grinning like the goddamn idiot he is.
--