Been reading and seeing a lot of things about USNTDP and I just— I have an image. My brother was a Marine (he’s out now) but I remember when we picked him up from Boot Camp and like when we drove him back home he had like panic attack awake up calls constantly. Like he’d fall asleep and jolt up after a minute in fear and I just— people say it was like the military and talk about the background and this image won’t leave my head.
Drabble Below - Reality or a Dream
It didn’t happen as much anymore. Will had grown out of it. He didn’t experience the spine jerking panic at the sound of the thudding steps or a sharp whistle. He normally could just brush it off but there were moments, times, when he was aching inside and his head was a mess and it snuck up on him.
He didn’t mean to doze off. He didn’t mean to drift off but they were coming off along roadie and for some reason they had scheduled practice for the morning after getting home at 3 am. They had two home games coming up and the playoff countdown was obvious on the board with the points in bold staring back at them. He had been sitting in the floor outside the locker room head tipped back tucked into his hoodie.
He had slept like shit for the handful of hours he got and his morning coffee hadn’t bene correct when he got it so he’d abandoned it after a couple sips leaving it in the cup holder of his Bronco before coming inside. The locker room door was locked, some trainer running behind and the few guys who had showed up early like him had set up guard outside the door in stumbled seating or leaning towers of morning silence. It was nice, comfortable in a way that Will didn’t really get to enjoy in the buzzy movement of NHL life.
It reminded him a bit of when he was under 17. The shifting of hockey bags, low conversation, and the humming of the hallway lights. It was sinking into his body even if his eyes had fluttered closed and his body slipping into sleep. He didn’t fall asleep in unconventional places anymore, not like before when Lenny or Gabo would find him tucked against laundry carts or cabinets grabbing the small moments of rest. He didn’t like sleeping in public spaces even struggling to slip off on bus rides or the flights.
He wasn’t sure what triggered it, the wake up call that buzzed through his body like heavy lightening. He didn’t know if it was the heavy slam of the door or the sharp trill of a phone but Will remembered one second he was dreaming of the beach, and the next he was sitting up. His vision hadn’t even cleared and his eyes were still basically stuck closed but he was moving. A hand down to grab the edge of his hockey back where it had been tucked at his side and the other pulling at his hoodie with aggressive tugs.
“Get dressed— you’re behind, you’re going to be running suicides—“
He could hear growled at him from somewhere beyond his present mind. His hands shaking slightly a vague thought of how mad the boys would be at him for fucking this up. Thinking about how being a kid shaking and sick to his stomach because he couldn’t stand the last meal prepped dinner that had been in the fridge, the taste of week old plain chicken and heavy white rice. He didn’t want to fuck this up for everyone else so his bag gets yanked open and his shirt lost in the movements.
“Kibs— Will?”
Will’s hands twitch where his fingers had curled around his undershirt and leggings he had tucked in the top of his bag— easiest to grab in a hurry. They normally only had 2 minutes to get dressed from the minute their Coach stepped into the space snarling and pushing before there was actually punishment time. He had the chance to get ready before their Coach got too mad. He shuffled to learn forward forward over his bat the buzzing of the hallway light lulling him into the dissociated stated he always got when changing.
“Privacy is for those who EARN it. You haven’t earned it yet.”
He didn’t need to think about the privacy of his body, he didn’t need to focus on the aching wrong feeling that ran through him everytime he had to do this. It was what made a champion, a soldier. It’s what brought his line to number 1.
You’ve already done that— gold medal.
A part of him whispered as he shifted to start working his clothes off. He needed to move faster or it would get worse.
“Buddy?”
A hand flashes out toward him and for a moment everything slowed. He didn’t often see this motion at him. Lenny got it more, with his loud outburst and his sudden sharpness. It wasn’t uncommon though for Will to step out of line with Gabo at his side and for the coaches to reach out to set him straight. His head flinches back, tapping the hard wall behind him dazing him for a moment and his breath being caught somewhere in his throat. The thunk of his head was loud in the hallway and for a moment he’s lost again into the hazy background of being a kid in a high stress situation.
“Fuck— Smitty. You okay?”
A hand presses against the side of his head and for a moment his heart is in his throat before a face comes into his vision. Mack. He sucks in a sudden gasp of air the buzzy feeling around him fading and suddenly he’s aware of where he is. He’s 21, sitting outside the Sharks’ locker room. He was shirtless and his bag was open next to him. He felt cold and hot all over sweat dripping down his neck but the air or the rink freezing over his skin. His heart was pounding and his head ached where it had smacked the wall. He blinks his eyes twice before looking at Mack again.
He was worried, eyes wide and hands raised as if he was going to grab the other and hold him in place. He feels affection bloom in his chest for a moment before he lowers his head pulling his knees to his chest.
“Sorry, got lost, in it.”
He mumbles into his knee cap. He didn’t wanna explain more.
