Do I Ever Cross Your Mind? (Pt. 2)
Note: Do I Ever Cross Your Mind? can be read as a standalone, but also works as a prequel to Already Yours. Part 1 can be found here.
Warnings: slow burn, extreme Will Smith yearning (again), reader has an off-screen bf (for most of it 👀), Will is lowkey in the trenches, childhood best friend! Mack, this is a work of fiction - some details from real life may have been adjusted slightly for storytelling purposes
Will keeps telling himself he’ll get over you. Through rookie season, road trips, birthday parties, and a thousand other small moments, he learns the hardest part was never falling for you - it was realizing he was never going to stop.
It wasn't until months later that Will saw you again. Everything had moved so fast after the draft, going through the motions of preparation for what was to come. He was barely able to catch his breath since he got back to the hotel that night after San Jose had selected him, all the way through training camp and building into the electric anticipation of the start of his first season in the NHL
The rookies had all been talking in the weeks leading up to the first home-game; conversations laced with heavy emotion about who was going to be coming down to show support and watch each of them play. Will tried not to look too interested when Mack shared some of the names on his list. He really did. Waited with bated breath, completely helpless to the way his heart stuttered in his chest when he finally heard your name.
He couldn’t pinpoint exactly how he felt about it. Over the last few months, whenever his mind would wander to you, it was immediately followed by his conscience chiming in unhelpfully about the status of your relationship.
Without fail, it managed to send a hit somewhere deep in his chest. As though he could shame himself out of wanting you if he tried hard enough. As though carrying the guilt around might finally convince his heart to listen to reason.
Even so, it never changed the way he felt about you. Never stopped his mind from wandering back to you. Never changed the quiet certainty that settled somewhere deep inside him whenever he thought about you, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.
Will knew you were still with him. He’d been in the car when Macklin took a phone call from Robyn, who had told Mack that your boyfriend was upset with you for going down to watch the game. Upset with you for wanting to go and support your best friend. Will only sighed and looked away. Even the thought of it made him feel sick to his stomach for reasons he was trying very hard not to examine too closely.
The first game of the season was against St. Louis. Will had been keeping a subtle eye out for you all day around the arena - watching around corners closely, wondering if the universe had yet another hallway run-in planned for you both - but by evening, he had yet to see you. Before he knew it, it was time for his rookie lap and warmups.
The family section had been very clearly pointed out to the team as they had prepared for the start of the season, but especially to the rookies, who everyone in the organization knew were bound to be starstruck and wide-eyed on game-day; all looking for the people who had tied their skates when they couldn’t, who were up at five in the morning taking them to the rink all those years, the ones who made sure they had all the support they needed - the people who got them there.
Will looked up. Hated the way his eyes seemed to immediately find you. He couldn’t make out the details of you from this far away, and he counted his lucky stars, thinking it could help keep him from getting any deeper.
You had your head thrown back, laughing unguardedly with Macklin's friends and family, somehow drawing his attention as easily as you always did, even in an arena packed with thousands of people. Everyone around you reflected your shine. It was clear how much you were loved.
The Sharks jersey adorning your figure looked so perfect on you.
For one dangerous second, his heart leapt.
A Sharks jersey. On you. Looking far more right than it ever should have.
His skates nearly caught an edge when his brain finally caught up enough to remember whose name was stitched across the back.
Still, the image lingered.
You looked like you belonged there. In San Jose. In the family section of the stands cheering for the Sharks. Looking entirely too natural wrapped up in the colours that had come to mean the world to him, the ones that represented the dream he'd had since he was a little kid.
And from this far away, he could almost pretend. Could almost imagine the number was different. Could almost imagine it was his jersey you were wearing instead.
He let himself live in the fantasy for only one guilty moment before the icy dread of reality crept back in. That familiar sting settled somewhere deep behind his ribs.
He shoved the thought down. Swallowed around the lump in his throat and skated away.
Then spent the rest of warmups thinking about it anyway.
The first period started and ended in a blur. They were up by one going into the first intermission. Will couldn’t quite believe that he was actually here. Playing in the NHL, just like he had dreamed all those years. The beginning of what would be, hopefully, a long and successful career. Only the beginning.
It felt different. Maybe because this was home now. Maybe because he was finally where he’d spent years trying to get to. And yes, maybe a part of it was because this time, you were actually cheering for the team he was on.
He couldn’t help the way his eyes dragged back up to the family section when they emerged back onto the bench for the second period. His whole being paused when he saw you sitting and talking happily with his family. From what he could tell, you were all unbelievably comfortable engaged in the conversation. Reciprocated smiles and laughs being exchanged between you and his parents, his sister chatting excitedly next to you with a hand resting on your arm.
He couldn’t help but stare in disbelief. She has the whole Smith family wrapped around her finger already.
Then, shoulders falling in defeat, of course she does.
In the second period, Will actually started to feel like he was finding his groove in the speed and skill of the game. It was a step-up from what he was used to, for sure, but nothing he hadn’t craved getting to experience for years.
It happened fast, Will picked a stretch-pass up the ice from Macklin in the neutral zone in the midst of a St.Louis transition. The crowd erupted instantly. One defender on him, then two. He took a quick cut to the inside. Didn’t hesitate, just shot, puck finding the back of the net and triggering the goal horn. Lights flashed, the crowd exploded, everyone jumped to their feet cheering.
Teammates crashed into him within seconds, bodies colliding with his and pushing them back into the glass. Gloves came up to jostle his helmet, shoves to his shoulder in celebration. And the first place his eyes went wasn’t the bench. Wasn’t his family. Wasn’t even the scoreboard.
Standing there looking so perfect next to his family.
Looking directly back at him.
The jumbotron switched to the family section.
You were on your feet with everyone else. Eyes wide. Hands clasped in front of your chest. You looked like someone replaying the sequence in real time. Breaking it down and running through each piece. The way someone who truly understood the game would. The way someone who knew exactly how difficult that play had been would.
Will tried to take in every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. Wanted the image of how genuinely impressed you were ingrained into his mind for the rest of his life. Wanted to make sure he remembered it, just in case this was the only time.
For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, it wrecked him.
Because you weren’t looking at him the way fans looked at players after a goal, or like someone just caught up in the excitement of the moment.
You were looking at him like you understood what he’d just done.
It wasn’t just that you were impressed, it was because he knew you meant it and that you didn’t hand out that kind of respect freely. He found himself staring a second too long. Blue eyes lingering on the heartwrenchingly sincere smile still pulling at your lips, nearly finishing him off.
You had taken it all in from the stands. The way his teammates were already embracing him and so honestly happy for Will to have scored his first NHL goal. He skated back to the bench, received enthusiastic fistbumps and cheers from the team. When he sat down, you watched how the coaches came over to congratulate him on a difficult play well executed. How players leaned over one another to congratulate him. How teammates kept reaching over to knock their gloves against his helmet. How Macklin sat beside him wearing the look of someone who had finally found another gear and couldn't wait to see where it would take them.
Somewhere between his goal, his teammates nearly tackling him into the boards, and the way his family spoke about him, something had shifted.
You weren’t looking at Will Smith the opposing player anymore.
No, you were looking at Will Smith the person.
The realization settled quietly within you, following you long after the final buzzer sounded. And no matter how hard you tried, it refused to leave.
After the game, you found yourself engaging more with the friends and families of the Sharks players as everyone waited for the team to emerge. You were certain that you were going to become incredibly familiar with them during Macklin’s time here and wanted to make sure you were adding to a strong support system for all of the guys.
You took in the way they started to trickle out of the locker room, making their rounds and talking to parents, friends, and some media. You couldn’t help the excitement you felt. This was only the beginning of an incredible season, of an incredible chapter, and nights like this meant everything.
Will wandered out before Macklin did. His eyes flickered around the room, taking notice of you standing with his sister and already plotting a way to get over there. He stopped to talk with his parents for a few minutes, cheeks and ears flushing red when his mom immediately started to coo over him and pull him in for a hug with a kiss to his cheek. He only hoped you weren’t watching and enjoying it as much as he knew you would be.
Finally, he made his way over, gaze flicking between you and Grace, trying to get a read on just how much you guys had bonded during his time on the ice.
His hair was damp from his post-game shower, a little bit messy, but in a way that annoyingly only seemed to make him more attractive. Smile easy, cheeks still warm from his interaction with his parents. “Hey.”
Your gaze met his, something warm tugged unexpectedly at your ribs.
“Hey yourself,” Grace said, pulling him into a hug. His eyes stayed on yours over her shoulder. Steady and unwavering. Like he was waiting to see what you’d do. The look lasted just long enough to make you glance away first. “You were incredible out there! You must be starving. I’m starving just from watching you.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, having heard all throughout the evening about how much she was looking forward to the home cooked family meal the Smith’s were having after the game. Will swallowed at the sound.
Grace continued, “I just want to get some pictures of everyone quick before we go, let me know when you’re ready, no rush!”
She turned to you, “It was so, so nice to meet you. You have my Instagram, let me know what game you’re coming to next, I can’t wait!”
You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your lips. Grace was sweet, she had been so kind the entire time and it already felt like you had known her much longer than a single evening. She was definitely someone you were excited to see again. “You too,” you said sincerely, pulling her into a quick hug.
Then she was off, already starting to round up the other Smith family members in a way that had Will’s chin dipping, head shaking and chuckling in amusement. You couldn’t help but laugh softly along with him.
He turned to you, “So, enjoy the game?”
Your eyes narrowed playfully, lips pursed but still tugging up. “Are you fishing for compliments, Smith?”
He only grinned, “Maybe.”
The confidence in his voice should’ve irritated you. Instead it drew an open laugh from you that turned his grin into something a little softer. For a second, he looked almost relieved to hear it.
You settled down, looking up at him in a way that was so self-assured and confident, but so disarmingly genuine. It had his knees going weak.
No dramatics. No talking him up. Just quiet honesty.
And just like that, all of his walls came crashing down. Only managing back a nearly whispered, “Thank you.”
So different from the confidence he had only a moment prior.
And for the first time since Boston, you found yourself wondering if maybe you'd never really known Will Smith at all.
It had started during training camp. Then after phone calls home. Then after most games. And somewhere along the way, it had become a habit. Something that slipped out before he could help it.
Will always tried to make it sound casual. Would ask Mack about his mom and dad, then his siblings.
Then, inevitably, “How’s your best friend?”
After their game against the Blues, even he could tell how not casual the whole thing had started to become. But he couldn’t help it. Even if it wasn’t with him - couldn’t be with him - he needed to know you were doing okay. That you were happy.
Mack’s suspicion would flare for only a moment, before the care he held for you would win out and he’d answer, his voice taking on that familiar note of affection Will had started recognizing whenever the conversation turned to you. It wasn’t ever anything that gave Will too much, and he almost felt like Macklin was doing it on purpose.
Always little things; never enough to satisfy him, but somehow always enough to keep him asking.
“She’s graduating next month.”
Will looked up, Mack continued.
“Honours with Distinction.”
Mack nodded proudly. “I don’t know how she survived some of those classes. Her schedule was insane.” Then, after a small beat: “Actually, that’s a lie. I do know. She could do anything she puts her mind to.”
Macklin laid on the hotel bed opposite Will’s, arm tucked behind his head as he scrolled through his phone for the first time in hours. They were both exhausted from the game, exhausted from the roadtrip.
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
“She spent most of it helping her friend move apartments.”
Will blinked, “On her birthday?”
Macklin gave him a look. The kind that suggested the answer should’ve been obvious.
It wasn’t until later, the lights switched off and both of them settling in for the night, that Macklin spoke again. He didn’t have to say who he was talking about.
Will already knew the answer. Asked anyways. “Does what?”
He could hear the sheets rustle in the dark as Macklin shrugged. “Makes everyone else the most important person in the room.”
Will wasn’t sure how long after that he laid staring up at the ceiling. For some reason, that answer sat heavier than it should have.
Long after that road trip, he found himself wondering who made you feel important.
Mack was quiet for a moment. “He’s fine.”
Within a second, Will knew there was a ‘but’ coming.
“Just…” Mack rubbed a hand over his jaw, Will could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think he’s her person.”
Will froze. Tried very hard to keep his face neutral. “Why?”
Mack stared out at the rink, empty of any other people.
“Because when she cares about someone, she gives them everything.” The answer came easily, like it was something Macklin knew to be as true as the sky being blue. “She always shows up. She's always there for everyone, whatever they need. She puts her heart into everything.”
He paused, the weight behind the look he gave Will said more than words ever could, “She deserves somebody who loves her the same way she loves everyone else.”
The conversations never lasted long. They rarely centered on you. But somehow, you always found your way into them.
With every new piece he learned, the details lingered longer than they should have. Filed away somewhere deep inside him, tucked beside every other piece of you he'd collected over the last year. A growing collection he was beginning to suspect would never stop. Would never leave.
The season was over in what felt like the blink of an eye, summer arriving with warm evenings, trips back home, and long overdue reunions with the people Will hadn’t seen nearly enough of since moving to California. It was several weeks into the off-season when many of the Sharks players found themselves making their way to Vancouver and reuniting for Macklin’s birthday.
Vancouver had always been home. No matter how much time Macklin spent away, there was something about returning to the city that seemed to settle him. The familiar sheets, the ocean air, the mountains. More than that, the people who had known him long before anyone cared about draft rankings or point totals.
It was always where Macklin liked to spend his birthdays whenever he had the chance, especially after spending the better part of each year away. It was the perfect reset between seasons. Especially after the year he’d had.
His first season in the NHL had been rough; missing the playoffs had been one thing, but finishing at the bottom of the standings was something else entirely. If anyone deserved a night surrounded by people who loved him simply because he was Macklin, not because of what he could do on the ice, it was him. You made sure of it.
Months of planning had gone into the celebration. Coordinating schedules, managing reservations, confirming flights, guest lists, dinner menus, and cake orders; the list went on. Things nobody else would think twice about. Things nobody would notice unless they went wrong.
Macklin didn’t need to do much. All you had asked of him - besides setting aside the date and being there - was to bring it up to the friends he wanted flying in well in advance. You wanted to ensure that it was on everyone’s radar so that he could have as many people that he wanted there as possible. Other than that, you and his family took care of everything. It was exactly what Macklin needed, he didn’t have to overthink anything, could just take some time to find his grounding again.
Will had received the invitation nearly two months earlier, and even that somehow felt like you. Your obvious care seeped into every detail of it, so thoughtfully laid out, each piece carefully considered. He stared at it longer than any reasonable person should have, couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief over how in deep he was for you; to the point he was analyzing things like the font choices you made for a birthday invitation. Because he knew even that was intentional when it came to you.
Then, he immediately added it to his calendar. Because Macklin had easily become one of his closest friends, and showing up for his birthday was a given. That was the reason. The only reason. Obviously. At least that’s what he told himself, trying to ignore the anticipation that settled and only grew at the idea of you being there, too.
The house was already bustling when he arrived at the Celebrini’s. He had felt the atmosphere the second he walked in the front door with some of the other Shark’s players. Everything looked incredible; there were balloons and streamers strung all throughout the house, pictures of Macklin and guests from over the years laid out for everyone to see, and way too much food placed out for people to snack on before the dinner reservation.
Laughter spilled through each room and filled every crevice as music drifted from somewhere deeper within the house. Friends, cousins, grandparents, teammates, neighbours, and others all engaged with each other. Every corner seemed to be occupied by someone telling a story.
And somewhere in the middle of it, Macklin’s laugh rang out above it all. He was wearing a blinding smile. The kind that actually reached his eyes. The kind that hadn’t been seen nearly enough during the season. Will wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Mack that carefree in the whole time he’d known him.
Will had been pulled into a seemingly endless flow of introductions and conversations as soon as he arrived. Even so, his eyes would search the room almost unconsciously for you from wherever he was; finding you and taking note of anything he could before returning back to whoever he was engaged with, only to do it all over again not even a moment later.
One of the biggest things he noticed was that you never seemed to stop moving,
When Macklin’s grandparents had arrived, you stood back and watched with a grin as Mack happily greeted them before you moved to help them get settled comfortably, checking in on if you could grab them anything before sitting down for a visit. You were barely sitting for ten minutes before someone called your name from across the room and you were off.
Later, you bent down to talk to some of Macklin’s family, hand resting on the back of his Aunt’s chair as you smiled at them all brightly. You asked her a question, hand resting on her shoulder as she responded. You straightened, disappearing determinedly then returning a moment later with drink replacements for two of them. You waved them off when they thanked you, as though it hadn’t required any effort at all, as though it wasn’t worth acknowledging. Your smile never once falling. Then you were gone again.
Many of the party-goers were drinking, but Will had noticed throughout the afternoon that the only thing you’d been nursing was a glass of ice-water that you’d been returning to during free moments, taking quick sips before rushing back into the next thing that needed attending to. You came to stand beside Macklin’s brothers, RJ and Aiden, who had been sitting at the island counter with a few others, easily integrating into the conversation and joking around with everyone.
Will finally caved to the unrelenting pull he felt, making his way over to the kitchen and catching the way you placed a full glass of water down beside RJ wordlessly. Will took notice of your own water glass sitting nearly empty on the counter, already resigned to his next actions.
He walked by you, much too aware of the way his arm felt brushing against yours as he passed. He refilled your cup, quietly placed it by your hand as if it was nothing before returning back to the discussion he had been previously engaged in. He was gone as quickly as it had happened, missing the way your eyebrows had lifted in surprise, something unreadable settling behind your eyes as you watched him walk away.
By mid-afternoon, Will found himself standing in the backyard with a few teammates. Sunglasses on and enjoying the pleasant warmth of the summer sun as condensation gathered along the side of his drink. He perked up at the sound of your voice, head turning just so to find you stepped away from everyone else and on the phone. You were tense, one hand pressed against your forehead as the other held your phone to your ear in a tight grip.
“No, I completely understand.”
“Right, one severe allergy. I’m sorry for the late notice, are you able to meet the food restrictions?”
Another pause. Then, “No, it’s okay, we can figure it out.”
He gazed over the edge of his sunglasses, taking in the determined furrow of your brow and the set of your jaw. It was a look he recognized immediately. The same kind of focus he saw from professional athletes every day. The kind that surfaced when somebody had already decided failure wasn't an option. Will could tell you’d probably make the meal yourself if you had to.
The tension leaked from your body, relief flashing across your features, “Okay, that’s perfect.”
The reprieve lasted all of two seconds before you were moving on to confirming when the cake would be brought out.
Problem solved. Crisis averted. Nobody even realized there had been a problem. Nobody except Will.
Into the late-afternoon, Will watched as you quietly dropped a plate beside Macklin, who was completely distracted with visiting and had forgotten to eat anything since guests had started arriving hours ago. You glided back into the kitchen area, coming to a stand beside Macklin’s mother, Robyn, and leaning against each other. Will had wandered in, making a plate for himself as he listened.
“Have you eaten anything yet?”
Robyn lifted her head from where it had been resting against yours, eyes narrowing in a knowing way as she looked at you. “Have you?”
You looked scandalized. “Robyn.”
“No, no. Answer the question.”
“I’m serious.” you almost huffed.
Will bit the inside of his cheek, lips curving up. The look you were giving Robyn was eerily similar to the ones he’d seen you direct towards Macklin himself.
“You’ve been running around all day,” you continued. “Go sit down for a little bit. Talk to people. Enjoy your son’s birthday.”
Robyn pointed towards you accusingly, “You always do this, even when you were little,” but even Will could hear the obvious love in it.
Your arms crossed, gaze wandering innocently. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Will couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out. Both women’s attention turned to him. Robyn nodded her chin toward him with a smile, “See, even Will thinks you’re being ridiculous.”
Your eyes narrowed at him. Will’s heart sped up in his chest. “Stay out of it, Smith.” But there wasn’t an ounce of real bite behind it. If anything, it only made him grin wider.
Eventually, Robyn surrendered with a dramatic sigh and a tender squeeze to your shoulder, grabbing a plate before allowing herself to be ushered toward the dining room. You watched her go with a soft smile, made sure she actually sat down, and only then did you seem satisfied.
Something in Will’s chest shifted permanently.
“Have you eaten anything?”
The question left his mouth before he could stop it.
Your eyebrows lifted, as if to say ‘seriously?’
He cleared his throat, heat creeping up the back of his neck.
“Oh, so only you’re allowed to ask?”
You only hummed amusedly in response, corner of your mouth twitching. “I’ve eaten.” He looked unconvinced. You pointed at him, “Don’t start.”
And he didn’t. Just pushed the plate he had been making for himself over to you and headed back out into the crowd.
The thing that stayed with Will most wasn’t everything you were doing. It was how present you remained while doing it. You never rushed people through conversations despite having a dozen other things to take care of. Never made anyone feel like they were pulling you away from something more important. Whether you were helping Macklin’s grandparents get settled in, solving problems with the restaurant, or checking in on guests, every person seemed to leave the interaction feeling like they had been the most important thing on your list.
And somehow, you brushed it all off as though anybody would have done the same. As though caring about people this naturally wasn’t something completely rare.
The truth was, Will couldn't remember the last time he'd met someone who moved through the world the way you did. Someone who paid such careful attention to everyone around them without ever asking for anything in return.
The dinner reservation went perfectly. The food was delicious, the cake appeared exactly when it was supposed to. Macklin had looked like a little kid again with how happy he was to have his favourite kind of cake and blow out the candles with his favourite people filling the room around him.
He glowed for the rest of the evening. Not happy, not content. Glowing. The kind that only came when somebody felt deeply loved; somebody whose cup had been filled back up to the very brim after a year spent giving pieces of himself away. Will knew exactly who was responsible for most of it. Even if most people seemed not to notice.
By the time everyone returned to the Celebrini's later that night, the energy had softened.
The excitement of dinner had settled into something quieter. People drifted between the backyard and the house, lingering around the firepit, sinking into patio chairs, stretching conversations out because nobody seemed quite ready for the night to end.
Will found you standing quietly at the dining room table, packing up leftover cake into take-home containers for the guests.
“You’re impossible.” he said, but it wasn’t accusing.
You turned your head, taking him in as he stood with his hands in his pockets. Cuffs of his sleeves rolled up and a few of the top buttons of his shirt undone. Cheeks flushed from all the smiling and laughing he’d been doing. You swallowed, turning back to the cake.
“You’ve been working for ten hours. Haven’t slowed down once.”
It drew a soft laugh from you, “Somebody has to pack up the cake.”
“People are leaving tonight,” you insisted.
He sighed, exasperated yet equal parts fond, “You’re proving my point.”
He took in the way you subtly favoured one leg over the other, rolling your shoulders like you were trying to work out a day's worth of tension.
He pulled out one of the dining room chairs, nodding for you to sit down.
Let out a sigh at the way your body was finally able to relax for a moment.
Will sat down next to you, grabbing a container and falling into the task without being asked. For the first few moments, neither of you said anything. The quiet felt surprisingly easy, comfortable in a way that should have been strange but somehow wasn’t. You passed him containers, he’d snap the lids on and stack them. Together, you made quick work of the remaining cake.
Once the cake was completely packed up and ready to be sent home with guests as they slowly started to say their goodbyes and head out, Will broke the silence.
“You’re allowed to enjoy the party, too.”
Just a statement. No judgment. No teasing.
“I am.” you answered honestly.
Will tilted his head, waiting for you to continue, blue eyes unwavering in the way they were locked on you.
Your eyes drifted out of the dining room window toward where Macklin was sitting around the fire. Toward your best friend laughing so hard he was nearly doubled over. The smile that graced your lips was soft and filled with fondness. Effortless. The kind that couldn’t be faked. “Macklin’s having fun,” you said tenderly, giving a light shrug. “That’s enough for me.”
And just like that, Will was done for.
Completely and hopelessly gone.
Because he believed you, every single word. You genuinely meant it, and your actions told the exact same story your words did. Macklin being happy was enough; watching the people you loved enjoy themselves was enough. You weren’t pretending or performing, just simply taking care of the people you loved in the best way you knew how.
Neither of you said anything for a moment. The sounds of the party drifted around you; overlapping conversations, laughter from the backyard, somebody calling out a goodbye from the front hallway.
The moment might have stretched longer if not for the voice that suddenly called your name. You looked up immediately.
Will looked at you like he already knew exactly where you were headed, couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. He pushed his chair back, moving to stand. Without thinking, he held his hand out for you.
Heartachingly, you placed yours in it without any hesitation. No second thought. Just trust.
His fingers wrapped around yours automatically, helping you to your feet. It was simple, harmless. A completely normal thing. Except for the fact that neither of you seemed to be letting go right away.
Maybe it was only a second. Maybe two. Will wasn’t quite sure. All he knew was that your hand fit perfectly inside his, like something settling where it was always meant to be. Like finding the final piece of a puzzle he’d never realized was incomplete until it clicked into place.
Then someone called your name again, and the spell broke.
Your gaze lingered on his. Your lips parted ever so slightly, a faint crease forming between your brows like there was something you wanted to say but couldn't quite find the words for. Then you were pulling away, achingly slow. Before turning away completely.
Of course, he reminded himself.
Still, he stood there watching you walk away. Already missing the feeling. Already wishing he’d had just a second more.
The problem was that the feeling never really left. Summer ended. Training camp arrived. Practices and games started piling up again. And somehow, his mind seemed to always find its way back to you.
Which was how, at two o’clock in the morning, after a preseason game, Will found himself staring at your Instagram profile. Private. He had figured it would be. But it hadn’t stopped him from wondering.
How much of you existed outside the moments he happened to be lucky enough to witness?
He knew there would be pictures he wouldn’t want to see.
Unfortunately, there would probably be pictures he desperately wanted to see, too.
It was two in the morning, Will was aware enough to know a follow request at that time was not the kind of message he wanted to send.
But he could think about it.
He waited until a completely normal hour of a completely normal day before pressing follow. You accepted two days later. Will spent those two days pretending he hadn’t noticed.
The notification appeared while he was sitting in the locker room.
Will stared at it for entirely too long.
He had to wait until he got home. Couldn't do it there. Fought with himself over it through the rest of the day, all the way until he finally walked through his front door and practically collapsed onto his bed. Already pulling his phone from his back pocket, Instagram open before he had even kicked his shoes off.
The first thing he noticed was your smile.
The second was that he was completely screwed.
Since then, Will found himself thinking about you more than ever.
Despite the thousands of miles between you.
Despite the fact that nothing had actually happened.
If he thought he wouldn't forget you before, you must have been engraved into the deepest parts of his mind now.
It was the kind of psychological reset that made it feel as though his entire world had shifted on its axis; tilted permanently toward you and never quite settling back into place.
Time was supposed to dull feelings like this. Distance was supposed to help.
Instead, every interaction seemed to reinforce the exact opposite.
Because now, there were Instagram posts. Your visits to see Macklin. Conversations after games. Team dinners when you came into town. Nothing significant. Nothing that should have mattered as much as it did. Yet somehow, every interaction left him worse off than before.
And yes, there was also the occasional boyfriend appearance.
Every time, without fail, Will thought:
And Will fought with himself over it more days than not.
But every laugh. Every lingering conversation. Every glimpse of you in a hallway before a game. Every goodbye that somehow felt heavier than it should have-
It was supposed to have gotten easier.
Instead, he seemed to fall a little further each time.
Before Will knew it, the end of March came around, and with it, his twenty-first birthday. It was hard to focus on what should have been a celebration when they were wrapping up a five-game road trip. It had been a month or so since the Olympic break, and while the team had hovered around .500 since returning, Will felt like he’d been fighting the puck ever since.
A risky play here and there. Passes that weren’t quite on the tape. Feeling like he was always half a second behind everyone else whenever he jumped over the boards.
It was enough to get into his head.
Wrong reads. Getting caught below the puck. Deferring.
Bad plays turned into bad shifts.
And eventually, there weren’t many shifts left to lose.
He tried to compartmentalize it. Tried to leave hockey at the rink, to keep what happened between the boards from bleeding into the rest of his life.
It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did to get benched on his birthday. Or to lose.
Will rationalised that every player went through stretches like this. That nobody got to decide when confidence disappeared. That birthdays didn't exempt you from adversity.
It still felt like another piece of himself was slipping away.
It didn’t help that they lost the next two games, too.
Finally, for the first time in ten days, the schedule gave them two days off. His family and friends had planned this trip months earlier. The moment the Sharks’ schedule had been released, the Smith’s had coordinated calendars, flights, work schedules - everything - so they could celebrate together.
Back then, this weekend had looked perfect.
Now, Will almost wished everyone had stayed home. He wanted nothing more than to disappear into his own thoughts for forty-eight hours before lacing his skates back up on Tuesday and hoping the game didn't chew him up and spit him back out again.
His family was there. They’d been looking forward to this for months.
So, he tried. Tried to enjoy it. Tried to accept every hug, every joke, every birthday wish his family and friends offered. Tried not to let his own performance determine whether he deserved any of it.
And, for a while, he was doing a decent job at it. At least he thought he was.
Until he caught sight of you.
You were laughing at something Grace had said, your smile bright enough that he noticed you from across the room before he even realized he’d been looking.
Not because he’d seen you.
Because, all at once, he realized he didn't have it in him to pretend he was okay.
He turned before you could notice him.
Stepped quietly into the hallway.
Just long enough to breathe.
The sounds of his own birthday carried faintly through the walls. Laughter. Music. Someone yelling his name from somewhere deeper inside the house.
It all felt impossibly far away.
His head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed.
One slow breath. Then another.
Which, of course, was where you found him.
He knew before you even spoke.
Your perfume reached him first. The same one that’d been haunting him since he’d caught traces of it the day he’d first met you. The same one he wouldn’t ever be able to miss.
Then, the quiet click of your heels across the hardwood as you came to a stop beside him. Close enough that he could feel your presence without opening his eyes.
His jaw tightened. Not because he wanted you farther away. Because every instinct he had was screaming for him to lean closer.
“Hey,” your voice was soft. Careful. “What’s going on?”
At the sound of your voice, so effortlessly filled with care, something inside him cracked.
Not all at once. Just enough.
“Just needed a minute,” he answered, voice barely above a whisper. Eyes still shut, head still resting against the wall.
You were quiet for a second.
“Is there anything I can do?” you whispered back.
His eyes squeezed tighter. He pushed himself off the wall almost too quickly, shoulders rigid with the effort it took to keep himself together.
“I’m sorry,” he shook his head once. “I can’t…”
A shaky breath escaped him. “I can’t do this right now.”
He turned before he could say anything else. Walked down the hallway toward the balcony.
You stared after him, brows furrowed in concern, “Smith.”
“Smith,” you tried again. Your footsteps followed him outside.
The cool night air hit his face.
A second later, you emerged onto the balcony after him. “You’re obviously not okay.” Another few careful steps. “I can grab someone else if you don’t feel comfortable talking to me about it.” A pause. “I can grab Mack… or your mom… or-”
He whipped around to face you. Blue eyes wide, almost pleading. Lips parted in near disbelief.
“You couldn’t be more wrong.” The words left before he had time to stop them.
Silence settled between you. His breathing uneven. “So please…” he trailed off.
Your shoulders dropped as your eyes searched his, “...Please what?”
“Don’t go get someone else.”
“But if you stay, I’m going to say some things that I probably shouldn’t.”
Then, because he couldn’t hold it back anymore, “And I want you to know that there are no expectations. No obligations whatsoever. I just,” he paused, “I can’t seem to let this go.”
He laughed once. It sounded tired, almost humourless.
“And I know you’re with him,” he said, shoulders sagging heartbreakingly.
Another breath. “I know that.”
“And I’m not asking you to leave him,” his head shook immediately. “I’m not, I just..”
He looked away. “I don’t even know why I’m saying any of this.”
Another laugh. Short. Broken.
You opened your mouth to speak, he held his hands up, eyes slipping shut, pleading, “No, just…”
He swallowed hard. “Please.”
“I’ve tried,” his voice cracked. “I’ve tried so hard.”
“I kept thinking it’d stop.” He shook his head, “Training camp.” Another breath. “Summer.” A pause. “This whole season. I kept telling myself eventually I’d get over it,” his voice broke halfway through.
He looked at you again. “You just… you never left.”
His chest rose sharply, “And I don’t know how to keep pretending this isn’t real for me.”
“I know you’re still with him.” The words tumbled over each other now. “And I’m not trying to ruin what you have with him. I’m not trying to make you choose. I just..”
He stopped. Hands shaking.
His voice was barely audible.
“If there was ever… even the smallest chance…” he looked down.
“If I ever cross your mind…”
“I think there could be something here.”
His eyes were locked on yours.
“I think I could make you happier.”
He paused, tried to catch his breath.
“I need you to know what you’ve meant to me.”
“I’ve been trying to outrun this for two years,” his voice cracked. “I can’t do it anymore.”
And the way you said his name. Not Smith. Will. So full of emotion. It caught him so off guard he finally stopped talking.
Your chest rose and fell almost as quickly as his.
Everything inside him stopped.
You took one careful step closer.
Close enough that he could finally see the tears gathered along your lashes.
"We broke up five months ago."
A/N: all my work is written and owned by me. Reblogs are very appreciated. Please do not steal my work, put it into AI, or on any other platform.
