i genuinely think that caring very deeply about whether a character tops or bottoms as if it's some important moral issue makes you the biggest loser on planet earth
i also think many people don't realize how heteronormative their views on bottoming vs topping are because it usually just boils down to the bottom being the feminine wilting flower and the top being the masculine beast. like maybe question why anyone messing with your favorite gay heteronormativity play upsets you that much lol
pov: youre macklin celebrini. you decide to play in a 2 week international tournament to prove you can win something, come back empty-handed, take an 11 hour flight back home to the country you feel like you let down, and no one is there to welcome you home
But what if, an another universe, someone was waiting for him.
Mack slouched in the airplane seat, Sony sponsored headphones on, a song playing that he didn’t even hear. The music going in one ear and out the other, his head full of static. He was staring listlessly out the window over the vast Earth passing underneath, trying and failing to focus on anything, that he didn’t even register when they passed into Canada’s airspace, only that the plane was slowly descending.
Each time he blinked, he could see it. The puck leaving Steen’s stick, Greaves just missing it, and the sound of a goal blaring through the arena. Fans cheering and screaming, but not Canada’s. Mack replayed this moment so many times after the game, that he was able to pick it apart nearly perfectly without need of a video.
He knew where he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to do. But he just wasn’t fast enough, just wasn’t good enough. He knew how to solve it in a hundred different ways at this point, the different possibilities endlessly running through his head. If only he played it a bit different, if only he didn’t get shoved into the boards. If only —
The light above Mack’s head flicked on and he sighed, removing one earphone to listen to whoever was talking over the intercom.
“Good afternoon everyone, this is your pilot speaking. We are about twenty minutes out from landing at Vancouver International Airport. The current time is 2:28 P.M. The weather is cloudy, with a current temperature of 17 degrees Celsius.”
Mack tuned the rest of whatever the pilot was saying out and slipped his headphone back on.
It’s not like anyone was going to be waiting for him at the airport anyway, plus he already scheduled an Uber before he left Switzerland to pick him up. His parents already flew back to California the day after they lost and Aidan was still somewhere off in Boston.
There wasn’t really anyone he could expect to be there that can make it to Vancouver on short notice, without disrupting their entire schedule to accommodate a failure like him who couldn’t even win bronze.
The ‘C’ he wore for two weeks on his jersey, representing the country he loved, now felt like a hole in his shoulder; burned and scared.
-----
Mack walked with the flow of the crowd out of the jet bridge, his legs heavy and body exhausted. He wasn’t able to sleep on the airplane and felt like he hadn’t slept much in days.
He rubbed the heel of his hands into his eyes and looked up, blinking the spots from his vision. He looked around, finding the signs directing the group to baggage claim. He went through a quick list of stuff he brought back - his sticks, a few duffel’s, the sharks bag.
Mack made it to the escalator leading down to the baggage claim area, and pulled out his phone, checking the Uber app to see if the driver was here or not.
Then Mack looked up and his heart tried to pound out of his chest.
His skin was tanner since he last saw him, hair longer and more golden than the sun, always trapped underneath a snapback. He was leaned against a pillar near the carousel, one leg propped up against the wall, his knee bent, a phone in his hand. He was staring down at it, expression blank as he scrolled.
Someone shoved by him and Mack hadn’t realized he was on the ground floor now, blocking others from getting off the escalator. He was too busy staring at Will, still leaning against the pillar, not looking at him.
Mack found it hard to breath, something lodged in his throat, threatening to come up and ruin him. His heart hurt and he felt himself shaking. His legs felt like they’d never been used before, walking slowly toward him, one step at a time.
Mack was just a foot in front of him when Will finally glanced up, dropping his arm to his side and pushing off the pillar. A too wide, toothy smile broke his face and Mack saw a brightness in those endless blue eyes that threatened to break something in him.
And break he did.
He felt the carry-on drop soundlessly to the floor as ringing filled his ears. His eyes burned and he couldn’t stop the first tear from falling. His mouth trembled and he sucked in his bottom lip, biting hard enough to taste copper and iron, trying to stop himself from falling apart into too many, too small pieces that no one could help him put back together.
In the span of that single second, Will was pulling him close, flush against his chest, arms warm and tight against Mack as he held him close. One of his snaked up to his head, running fingers lightly through his hair, the other trailing up and down his back.
Mack felt the rumble of Will’s chest as he spoke, but he couldn’t hear it. He was too busy clutching at Will’s back and burying his face further into his collarbone. His tears wouldn’t stop and he took shuttering breaths in and out, trying not to sob.
They stood like that for what felt like eternity, and Mack never wanted to leave.
pov: youre macklin celebrini. you decide to play in a 2 week international tournament to prove you can win something, come back empty-handed, take an 11 hour flight back home to the country you feel like you let down, and no one is there to welcome you home
The things I’m learning about the NTDP right now are incredibly fucking disturbing
No wonder Will is living life at the fullest. He was fucking traumatised and abused for years.
No wonder he wants to make the most of every hobby when his ‘individuality was broken down’ to create a ‘better team’. When he was referred to as a ‘product’. Not prospect, not player. Product.
No wonder he keeps everything private when the coaches kept tabs on every player’s dating life. No wonder he’s always on time and plans everything when ‘there would be consequences’ for being late to anything.
No wonder he loves to bake when the NTDP controlled every meal down to the MINUTE and measured their weight and body fat constantly. No FUCKING WONDER he likes restaurants when the NTDP caught two players eating a McFlurry and publicly humiliated and punished the whole team for it. When he was only allowed “16 grapes”, “10 fries”, “23 almonds”, “12 baby carrots” AS SNACKS ?????
No wonder he’s chronically online and calls his parents at any opportunity when the NTDP confiscated his phone every fucking day.
No wonder patriotism runs so rampant when they’re made to exhaust themselves in the name of America and tap their sticks after each anthem. They are a CULT. They’ve partnered with the MILITARY!!!! Their merch says DEFEND THE FLAG.
No wonder he’s building a life outside of hockey after playing for an organisation that forced him to change in the hallways because he hadn’t ‘earned the right to privacy’.
An organisation that employed coaches using military training techniques on 15 year old boys. One of those coaches who was then charged for the murder of a 16 year old boy.
An organisation with a secondary ice pad for the boys to keep skating while the Zamboni flooded the main rink. So they couldn’t even rest for 10 minutes. 2 hours with no breaks. And then gym. And then weights. And then fucking jiu jitsu.
An organisation that forces families to hand over guardianship and power of attorney the moment their children move in with a billet family.
The organisation that urges players to do online school so no reporters outside USA Hockey can get information out of them.
They make these teenagers run miles with logs the shoulders. They made them go through a 12 week program in just 6 weeks. The conditioning was described as ‘excruciating’.
An organisation with NO OFF DAYS. Coaches that admit to push them further than their limits, and when they’re exhausted, they keep pushing.
Years of his life Will himself describes as ‘army style’. Literally saying “at first I was like ‘get me out of this place’. The workouts were awful. 8 hours a day in the rink”. And Leno said “work outs that just don’t end. Going through Hell with them.”
No wonder he’s doing anything and everything when he wasn’t allowed out of the rink from sunrise to sunset. Even online school was at the rink.
He was in a fucking cult. And the only thing that saved him from the full scope of horrors was his family taking one look at that place and going “you’re not going alone”.
2087
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