iicebound:
   â you guess you believe me? â oh will. he thinks about reaching across the table, a comforting hand on willâs arm perhaps, but promptly thinks the better of it. he settles instead for more casual words, a hint of a joke perhaps. â câmon stop stressing so much over this â i donât even know if you were this hung up over it when you were an itty bitty sophomore with the c.â itâs a half lie â because ben remembers some warm late fall night, the bitterness in the wake of a loss. his own hanging head and how will had settled down next to him with a beer in hand - âsometimes i donât feel like i deserve it, benny. sometimes i wonder how the seniors donât hate me for it.â
   itâs moments like these that will cannot remember a time before ben andrews in his life ( he has friends, of course -- the ntdp is as much a cult as it is a development program, u18s and u20s; usa hockey is do or die, you know ). but ben, ben is something else, a new concept when thrust into contrast with old teammates and ever present hockey. and yet he fits, slides in perfectly and will is going to hate to lose him at the end of next year. ( itâs become more than just hockey, somewhere along the line ). â oh fuck off, benny. â the words lack all the menace they ought to have, a smile crossing willâs face. itâs not normally like this --will is confident one, the one who smiles at ben and lifts him up after tough losses. thatâs his job as his captain, as his friend. it shouldnât be the opposite way around. â ---you ready to go? â
