carpe diem, gorgeous! @leaderwonim - Tumblr Blog

May 31

𑣲 BLESS IT BE THE MYSTERY OF LOVE

pairing: Macklin Celebrini x fem!reader

synopsis: Macklin Celebrini came to Boston University focused on one thing: hockey, not romance. But when the girl who made him cry on move-in day keeps finding her way into his life, he realizes falling for her might be the one thing he never saw coming.

author’s note: One of the longest fics I’ve ever wrote perhaps? And one of my favorites too I was cheesing while writing this! Wrote this based off of my college experience so I hope you guys enjoy HAHA <3

Is it better to speak or to die?

If you were to ask Macklin Celebrini, he’d pretend to think about it, then say die. Because to speak, in assembly, terrified him. To speak meant vulnerability, and vulnerability made him feel stupid and small.

The first time Macklin Celebrini cries, it’s right after he finds out he’s going to play hockey with his brother Aiden at Boston University. He’d never admit it then, but he shedded more than just a tear or two.

It was something he’s always dreamed of. Division 1 hockey. College hockey. Suddenly, all the times he woke up early at 6am to pester his mom to drive him to practice seemed worth it.

The second time Macklin Celebrini cries is when you’re rolling your cabinet into your dorm and his toe stubbed the edge of the hard wood because he was too busy texting his friends about how cool the BU dorms were.

“Fuck,” he says, tears welling in his eyes at the pain as his leg immediately jolts back and you look up for a brief second, face cringing when you realize he got hurt.

“I’m so sorry.” You say quickly, offering him a pitiful smile. “It’s just really heavy and I’m trying to get it into my dorm.”

Macklin is shocked to see how pretty you are. He’s staring, obviously, and his jaw is kind of dropped because he doesn’t know what to say. It isn’t until you cough awkwardly that he snaps out of his trance.

“Uh no, you’re all good!” He says, suddenly cheerful. “Do you need help?”

You raise your eyebrow, surprised he went from nonverbal for a second to suddenly grinning ear to ear.

“Sure.” You shrug. “My parents went down to the campus market to get lunch, so I’m basically on my own right now.”

He helps you push the heavy cabinet into your closet, and then a huge white bedazzled mirror up the stairs. He’s exhausted, but it’s nothing he hasn’t done before. After all, when he was still home, his younger sister made him carry her tennis bags all the time to her practice.

“Thank you.” You say, looking around your double. All your stuff was crammed on your side of the room, and you knew it would take most of the night to properly organize. Your roommate had finished up her side, and had gone off to get dinner with her parents.

Lucky.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Macklin says. “I’m down at uh, room 304 if you ever need me.”

You smile, nodding your head. “Thanks again.”

Macklin goes back to his dorm all giddy after that, immediately texting Aiden who’s teasing him about already finding a crush before even starting his semester classes.

Thankfully, Mack has a single, so it didn’t matter if his hockey gear was all over the place. Call it athlete privilege, but when you’re Macklin Celebrini, a promising hockey player, you get the quirks that others don’t.

·˚ ༘

Macklin doesn’t bump into you until the next weekend, when you’re all glammed up and look like you have somewhere to be.

He had just gotten off a late practice, late actually meaning 7-9pm, but he was exhausted and hadn’t had his protein smoothie yet.

“Macklin! Hey!” Your voice rings from down the hall as he shoves his key into his keyhole. “Macklin!”

You rush over, stumbling quite a bit, and Macklin could already tell that you’re drunk. Well, tipsy. Same thing.

“Are you not going out tonight?”

He gives you an awkward grin, then gestures to the hockey bag slung on his shoulder and his sticks popping out of it. “Coach had us do practice at 7 today instead of in the morning.”

“Oh.” You giggle. “Sorry—I know I probably sound so stupid right now. Do you want a shot?”

He should say no. Should’ve shook his head, plugged in the key harder and slammed the door on your face. His plan was to change and go down to the smoothie place in the campus gym to get his favorite order: a PB chocolate protein smoothie.

But you were really pretty, like actually, really pretty, with your eyelashes curled and your lip combo—and he’s getting sidetracked and nods without even realizing it.

“Great!” You say, arms immediately grabbing his. “Drop off your hockey stuff in my dorm and you can pregame with us!”

You’re dragging him down the hall before he gets a chance to even gasp. Your door’s cracked open with a door stop and you and Macklin burst through it loud enough to alert an RA if they listened close enough.

“Guys! Look who joined us!”

There’s three other girls, all dressed up and also tipsy sitting on your floor, and two guys who were probably on your guy’s floor that Macklin hasn’t had a chance to meet yet.

In his defense, the only reason he hasn’t really talked to anyone on your floor was because he was busy. It wasn’t easy balancing early hockey drills and classes while also trying to become friends with people.

“Yo, you’re on our school’s hockey team right?” One of the guy extends his hand. “My name’s Weston but everybody just calls me Wes.”

Macklin shakes his head, trying his best to not be awkward. “Uh yeah, I am. You can just call me Mack if you want.”

“Wait!” One of the girls perks up. “No way—you’re Celebrini’s younger brother!”

“Aiden?” Weston smiles brightly. “Oh my God, I do remember someone saying that another Celebrini was coming to BU. Didn’t know he lived on our floor.”

Weston quickly grabs a mini solo red cup, using a sharpie to write MACK CELEBRINI on it. He takes what Mack only assumes is vodka and pours it into the cup.

“Take a shot baby Celebrini!”

Macklin, under any other circumstance, would’ve physically recoiled at the idea of someone he just met calling him baby Celebrini. But he doesn’t want to make things awkward, and Weston seems like a pretty chill dude, so he takes the cup and downs it right in front of the group.

“Holy shit.” You say, giggling as you nudge him in the side. “No chaser? You’re wild, Mack.”

Yeah, it didn’t taste good at all. Macklin almost had to stop himself from throwing it up right in front of you. His face immediately flushes red, and he has to let out a deep breath before he could even think of speaking.

“We’re going to this welcome week party.” The other guy says. “Thrown at some house near campus. I’m Michael, by the way.”

The other girls in the room introduce themselves after that. Macklin remembers them as Sloane, the girl with curly hair, Olivia, the brunette one who’s also your roommate, and Emma, the blonde one.

The seven of you decide on ubering, because a bunch of drunk freshmen walking out in public doesn’t seem like the best idea.

·˚ ༘

The party was loud. Like alarmingly loud. If the neighbors hadn’t been other college students, Macklin was sure the cops would’ve been called at least an hour ago.

You hold his hand, leading him into the backyard. Macklin doesn’t think much of it, but it does make his tummy a little warm, and that’s not just the alcohol speaking.

You pull him into a conversation with random people he’s never met before.

“Hey! Have you meet Mack? He’s the best.”

“Did you know Mack’s the little brother of Aiden?”

He’s positive you have no idea what you’re talking about, because you have little to no idea who Aiden is, and he’s never really talked to you about his hockey life before. Mainly because you guys have only talked once, and this would be the second time, funnily enough.

“Whoa.” He says when you stumble directly into his chest. “You okay?”

“Perfecttt.” You say, though the world spins for a moment and you have to hold onto Macklin. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He reassures you. “Bathroom?”

You quickly nod, and Macklin takes your hand to lead you inside the house. He pushes past couples making out on the couch until he finally finds the bathroom, which thankfully has no one in line.

By the time you guys get inside, you’re already claiming your seat on the ground as you hunch over the toilet seat.

“Oh no,” you murmur, and Macklin wastes no time in taking your hair into his hands and making a small ponytail so that it’s not all over your face.

“This is so embarrassing.” You cry, and you lean over and start throwing up.

“No, it’s not.” He says, softly. “Look. Aiden and I used to party in high school too, not like this crazy but I’ve had my fair shares of hunching over the toilet and helping Aiden as he was hunched over the toilet.”

He pats your back a little, trying to soothe you.

“Water?” He asks.

You nod, the throw up finally coming to a stop. You signal him to let you go and he does, allowing you to lean your head against the bathroom wall.

“I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he opens the door, the noise all comes back again. It’s louder, if that’s even possible.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

The voice is all too familiar. Macklin looks up and he’s gagged to see that it’s his older brother standing right in front of him.

“Mack?!” Aiden says, jaw on the floor. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Surprise?” Macklin tries to laugh it off, but it comes out more as a painful shriek. “Do you know where the water is?”

Aiden rolls his eyes, but grabs the younger boy and leads him to the kitchen.

“Why do you need it?” Aiden asks, arms already crossed like he’s disappointed. “You’ve been drinking?”

“God,” Macklin rubs his temple, the music feeling louder by each pressing second. “No, well I mean, yes, but it’s not for me.”

Aiden’s eyebrows furrow at that and before he can interrogate him further, Macklin’s already making a beeline for the bathroom again.

“Here.” He say, shutting and locking the door as soon as he’s inside. “You’ll feel better once you drink it.”

You gurgle it down, no longer embarrassed in front of Macklin because he’s already seen you thrown up everything you’ve drank tonight.

“Walk me back to the dorms?” You ask him, eyes already begging.

It wasn’t like he was gonna say no. Macklin Celebrini might be many things—annoying, according to Aiden (affectionately, he hopes), future NHL star to his parents, and awkward to some of the people on your floor, but he’s not a dick. He’s not gonna let a drunk girl like you who’s barely sobering up uber or walk back by yourself.

·˚ ༘

By the time you’re back, the two of you are giggling about something that someone who was fully sober would’ve not even laughed at. Something about how funny Aiden looked when he was angry, like a giant teddy bear that tried to be intimidating.

“No no,” you say as Macklin tried leading you more the hall towards your room. “Can’t.”

“Can’t?” He asks, clearly confused. “Can’t what?”

“Liv is in there with Michael.”

Ah. Your roommate, Olivia, was having a private time with one of the guys who you two had pregamed with earlier, and you clearly didn’t want to enter the room.

“Plus, there’s vodka all over the floor and your hockey gear is everywhere.” You say as matter-of-factly, and Macklin can’t help but laugh because he knows a hungover you will probably groan as you clean it up the next day.

“Okay, my dorm then.” He says, silently thanking BU for having a single. More space and way more privacy.

When you enter his dorm, you’re hit with a wave of what seems like fresh dryer sheets and something vanilla.

“My mom made me bring a mist that makes the room smell good,” Macklin says, scratching his neck awkwardly. “Said just because Aiden and I are athletes doesn’t mean we can’t be hygienic.”

You laugh loudly at that, throwing yourself on his bed without asking. You probably should’ve, but you were also still drunk and not fully sobered up, so it didn’t really occur in your mind.

“Cmon, you gotta brush your teeth.” He says.

“I don’t want to,” you start, though your words are all muffled since your face is deep into his pillow. “Plus, I don’t even have a toothbrush here.”

He’s surprised you’re that coherent when you’re drunk, but he thanks you because then he doesn’t have to decipher your drunk words while being slightly tipsy himself.

“Lucky for you, I always keep a spare one.”

You raise your eyebrow at that. “For what? One of the girls you plan on hooking up with?”

He rolls his eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” He goes over and lays right next to you, flicking you in the forehead.

“Ow!”

“Sometimes my teammates crash over and like you, they get so drunk they can’t walk back to their dorm.”

“Hey!” You cross your arms in faux offense. “I can walk back to my dorm—just can’t cause Liv’s probably hooking up with Michael right now.”

You can’t argue further cause Macklin’s already pulling you up and into the bathroom, pushing a toothbrush with toothpaste on it towards your hands.

“Thanks.” You say, finally looking at him in the eyes. “Seriously, you’re the best.”

He doesn’t say anything, only smiles as he starts brushing his teeth too.

You two end up falling asleep in each other’s arms that night, and Macklin doesn’t know if who put their arm around the other first, but he really doesn’t mind.

In fact, it makes his heart warm, and suddenly, taking care of a drunk you isn’t so bad, and he doesn’t mind doing it often.

·˚ ༘

Macklin forces you to go to the dining hall with him the next morning. To him, it was a way to get over your hungover with a hearty breakfast. To you, it was a humiliation ritual considering you looked like shit and felt like it too.

“Lighten up.” He says, to which you respond with a glare. “You got pancakes! Everybody loves pancakes.”

That’s true, you guess. At least your dining hall had a decent array of options today. There were the usual breakfast items—toast, cereal, pancakes, and waffles. Yogurt on the side, and the occasional cut fruit.

“Liv texted me and asked me where I was last night,” you say. “I told her I crashed at your place and she said we both ‘got some’ last night. Don’t think she’s fully sober yet.”

Macklin laughs at the ridiculousness of that, stuffing his face with more pancakes. “At least she had fun.”

He goes quiet for a second, as if his brain was trying to catch up with all the thoughts that just ran through his mind. “Shit, I have a 7pm practice tonight again and all my gear is in your room.”

“That’s fine.” You shrug, “we’ll just collect it right after breakfast. If Mikey’s in there, I’ll just kick his ass out.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The two of you grin, enjoying the rest of your breakfast in silence and syrup.

·˚ ༘

When he shows up to practice, Aiden’s already grinning ear to ear and Macklin knows he’s about to get an earful from the older boy.

“So.” Aiden says. “You. Party. Water. Girl.”

“Geez,” Macklin waves his brother off, annoyed. “Stop talking with a pause every two seconds.”

“Sorry.” Aiden says, though he doesn’t really mean it. “I meant—you were at a party and asked me where the water was for a girl.”

“Don’t think so hard on it,” Macklin says. “Your head will explode.”

Aiden taps Macklin’s stick with his stick, clearly not done teasing the boy just yet. “Mack has a crush.”

Macklin skates off before Aiden could say anything else, much to his dismay. Whatever, Aiden thinks. He’ll crack the truth out of Mack soon enough.

When Macklin’s done with practice, he feels like his head is throbbing and his heart is pounding at a million beats per second. College hockey is different from high school or club hockey.

It’s more intense. Because there’s something on the line in college hockey. Cause recruiters come by, and Macklin can’t fuck it up, even if it’s just a slight mistake, because all he’s ever wanted is the NHL.

“You okay?” Aiden’s voice comes in bits, like Macklin’s brain is trying to decode it. “Hey, you need water or something?”

He nods, and that’s enough for Aiden to go running into the locker room, skates still on and all, to grab his little brother his water bottle.

“Don’t stress yourself out, please.” Aiden says as he watches Macklin chug down the water. “I know what it’s like. Thinking you have to be the best everytime. You’re allowed to breathe, you know.”

Macklin hates how wise his brother is. No matter how annoying or competitive Aiden Celebrini was, he still was Macklin’s older, much more wiser, brother, who cared and loved him because they were family.

“Thanks bro,” Macklin says, and he lets Aiden ruffle his hair and mutter a no problem under his breath.

·˚ ༘

“Mack! Open the door!”

Macklin groans as he grabs a pillow and puts it over his head, as if doing so might make the girl from the other side of the door go away.

“I know you’re in there! I saw you walk in after practice a few hours ago.”

He doesn’t even know who’s at the other side of the door. It wasn’t you. No, you had texted him you had anatomy lab today and would be too busy to swing by and say hi. So who the hell was it?

“Yes?” He says, cracking the door a bit open as his eyes adjusted to the hallway’s yellow lights.

“It’s Emma, don’t know if you remember me.”

Ah. Emma. The blonde girl from the pregame.

“Sure.” Macklin breathes out, “what do you need?”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to grab lunch,” she’s nervous now, he can tell, “cause early morning practice must’ve been rough huh? I had an 8am and saw you walk back to the dorm.”

Ah fuck it. Why not? Macklin needed to socialize and talk to people outside of his hockey team anyways.

So he nods, and he swears he can hear Emma squeal. Like actually—squeal.

“Great! Let me grab my purse!”

He knows it’s gonna be a long lunch.

·˚ ༘

“Heard you and Emma got lunch.”

Macklin silently curses under his breath when he hears your voice, and he can’t pretend he didn’t hear it because he’s already looking over to where you’re standing at the end of the hall.

“Yeah,” he says. “She’s interesting.”

You laugh, making your way over to his dorm. He’s unlocked his door by now, and it’s a silent invite for you to come in.

“You wanna go to the beach this weekend?” You ask. “I am in dire need of a freeing swim.”

He racks his brain trying to think of what he has this weekend. Very early practices, 6 to 8am, and then his usual protein smoothie run after.

“Sure.” He says. “Does 11 at Saturday sound good?”

“It does.”

So you two agree on it, and Macklin feels so much better now. Emma had talked off his ear earlier, way more engaged in the conversation than he had been.

She wasn’t necessarily bad, or boring. She just wasn’t.. you? Macklin didn’t know why he was comparing her to you during the entire lunch. She just seemed like she would go with anything he’d say, something he didn’t want. You were very opinionated and immediately clocked Macklin if he said something that wasn’t satisfactory enough for you.

Macklin liked that.

Why? He doesn’t know. But bless it be the mystery of love.

He goes back to studying for a while before deciding what he should bring to the beach. Saturday is only two days away and he has to be prepared.

He’s never really cared about it before—it was something his mom would do for him whenever they went. She’d pack his towel, a change of clothes since he’d ultimately get his wet in the ocean anyway, and a sandwich she made because she knew he’d get hungry.

Well, his mom wasn’t here to do that, and Macklin actually enjoyed doing something for himself that wasn’t hockey. He packs a change of clothes, just a simple BU hockey t-shirt the team gave him during the summer, and shorts. No sandwich—he could probably buy some overpriced one there, and a small detox smoothie. Perfect.

Everything was perfect.

·˚ ༘

If Macklin could describe the beach with you in one word, it’d be fulfilling.

He guesses he’s been so busy with hockey that he hasn’t had enough time to properly enjoy himself in Boston.

“Mackkk, you’re gonna get sunburnt.” You say as you apply a generous amount of sunscreen throughout your body. “Sunscreen please.”

He covers up his face with his shirt, which has been off ever since you’ve guys found a spot to lay down. The sun shines on his toned stomach warmly, like a soft hug. “Whyyy?”

“Cause you’re as white as it can get and you’re gonna be complaining about it later.” You joke. “Now turn around. I’ll apply it on your back first.”

He huffs and puffs, but turns around so that you can start applying the sunscreen on his back. He gasps a little when he feels the cooling sensation of it.

“Sorry,” you whisper quietly. “Okay. All done. Now your front.”

The way you look at him makes him want to cry. It’s soft, real soft, as you apply it on his chest and face. Your hands are careful and warm, and he closes his eyes for a moment, taking every bit in.

“Now let’s go swim loser,” you say, and the moment’s over. It’s really not, he knows that you only say it out of a place of affection.

You stay for hours, and Macklin ends up buying his overpriced sandwich at a little cafe on the coast. It has his favorite things in it: turkey, tomatoes, lettuce, and a generous amount of mayo. He eats it like he hasn’t eaten in days.

“This is great.” He says, mouth full of sandwich.

“What? Your sandwich?”

“No. No. This. You.” He says, finally swallowing enough for you to properly understand him. “My parents used to take me to the beach all the time when I was little. Usually after a really good hockey game. And I don’t know—I guess being here with you, swimming in the ocean and eating something similar to what my mom made for me just feels right.”

Your eyes soften, and Macklin swears he sees your pupils dilate.

“I’m really really glad we did this Mack.” You say, hands coming up to ruffle his hair. “This feels right to me too.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the sudden confidence mixed with a bit of sun poisoning but Macklin gathers up the courage to lean in, bridging the gap between your lips.

It’s one of those movie kisses. The ones where the character deepens it, and everything around them disappears for a moment.

“Wow,” Macklin says as soon as he pulls away, and you can’t help but giggle.

Your lips turn into a wide grin, nodding as you lean into his chest. “Wow is right.”

The two of you end your night with gelato, a place that Macklin said Aiden recommended to him when he was a freshman at BU. He gets strawberry and complains of the tartness, begging you to share your cookie dough with him.

·˚ ༘

Macklin doesn’t ask you to be his girlfriend until he thinks of the perfect plan.

He’s asking Aiden for advice, mainly because Aiden has a girlfriend and they’ve been in one of the most stable relationships Macklin’s ever seen.

“Do you think she’ll like flowers?”

“Mack.” Aiden says, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Dude, all girls like flowers. Get her a huge bouquet that reminds you of her.”

He decides on tulips and baby’s breath. Classic, but also timeless in his eyes. They’re gorgeous, and the flower shop near campus makes their bouquets by hand each weekend with the upmost care.

He makes you a poster with the help of Olivia and Weston, who all pitch in for paint and ideas. Finally, the words “Can I Be Your Boyfriend?” appears on there in cursive, and Macklin swears he’s never been more proud of himself.

“Okay,” Olivia says, “she told me and Wes she would be back from anatomy lab around 8pm. I’ll just tell her that Weston forgot something in your room and is out right now so she can go in and you can surprise her with this.”

“Perfect.” Macklin says. “Thank you two so much, seriously.”

“Duh,” Weston says, swinging an arm around Macklin. “Baby Celebrini, you make your old man proud.”

Macklin rolls his eyes, slightly elbowing the boy. “We’re quite literally the same age.”

Weston laughs. “Yeah yeah, go make her your girlfriend! Good luck!”

Olivia and Weston leave in giggles and Macklin is a nervous wreck when he’s finally alone. What if you say no? What if the kiss was just a one time thing and you think he’s weird for taking it too seriously?

Breathe, Mack. Breathe. He tries the breathing technique Weston taught him after he got too drunk at another house party that you weren’t at and was about to have a mild panic attack.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale—

“Hey Mack, Weston said he forgot something here—?”

You barely finish your sentence when Macklin yells “surprise!” and hands you your bouquet of flowers.

You’re stunned, and tears well up in your eyes when he opens up the poster, the bold words of “CAN I BE YOUR BOYFRIEND?” ever so clear.

“Oh my God,” you say, and there’s actual tears from both exhaustion from your lab and the overwhelming sense of joy overcoming your body. “Mack.”

You place the bouquet gently on his desk and immediately bring him into a hug.

“Of course I’ll be your girlfriend,” you say, and Macklin wastes no time in kissing you.

His door is still wide open, and he can hear hoots from Olivia and Weston down the hall, who are already smiling ear to ear at his love confession.

“We love you guys!” They scream. “Don’t do anything we won’t!”

You pull away, laughing as you wipe away stray tears from your cheeks. “They’re so annoying.” You say, but there’s no actual annoyance in your voice.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But they helped. Aiden too.”

He pulls you in another kiss before you could say anything else, and Macklin Celebrini thinks he’s never been happier.

·˚ ༘

For a while, everything is perfect. Freshman year goes exactly like how Macklin imagined it to be.

Fun, chaotic, and now with you, amazing. He finally has something to look forward to whenever he comes back from early skate or a game.

You’re always in the stands, in his jersey with Olivia, Michael, and Weston, and you four are always the loudest ones there. Weston and Michael are especially annoying, making posters that say GO BABY CELEBRINI or THAT’S MY MACKIE! that are incredibly embarrassing but also weirdly comforting.

You have a habit of leaving small post it notes around his room, his hockey bag, and some of his gear. They’re just simple ones that make him smile like remember to eat or drink water! and even the occasional call your girlfriend when you’re free.

Macklin loves it. It shows that you care and it lets him know how much you do. He always listens to it whenever he finds one, because sometimes, despite being an athlete, Macklin doesn’t drink enough water.

He blames it on forgetting. He’s so busy, and his mind is constantly thinking of new hockey tactics that he forgets everything else around him. But you’re grounding, being a constant reminder in his head.

Like all good things though, there’s eventually an end. Macklin and you don’t know where it begins, but it started with little arguments about him being too busy and not having enough time for you.

“Baby, you know that I would rather spend time with you than go skate.” He says one night, eyebrows furrowed in stress. “It’s not up to me to decide that.”

“It just feels like you never even try anymore.” You’re crying now, and Macklin hates it. He hates being the reason why you’re in pain. “You don’t even see it.”

It gets worse when he gets drafted.

He still remembers that night. He’s in his dark blue suit, and you’ve probably called him handsome at least 5 different times in only 10 minutes. His hair is nicely combed and he’s both amped up and nervous.

“You’re gonna do great.” You say, fixing up his tie. “I know so. Your family is so incredibly proud of you, Mackie.”

He gets drafted to San Jose. The teal jersey engulfs him like it was always meant for him, perfect and bedazzling. And suddenly, there’s a pit in your stomach.

Because you’re in Boston. And he’ll be in San Jose. He’ll be in the NHL, and you’ll still just be a college girl in Boston. That realization made you want to throw up.

You let him have the night, and the rest of the weekend. You don’t want to be the downer, especially when your boyfriend’s so happy and surrounded by family.

The topic comes up a week later.

“So,” you say.

“So?”

“San Jose is really far.”

Macklin sighs, like he doesn’t want to be having this conversation.

“No Mack, don’t do that. You know we have to talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about?” He ask. “We’re going to be doing long distance. We’ll be okay.”

“But how can you be so sure?” It’s one of the few times you raise your voice at him. “Mack, you’ll be all the way in the California—in the West Coast, and I’ll just be here. In Boston. You’ll be so busy you won’t even have time to call me.”

“That’s not true.” He says. “You just want to argue with me right now.”

“Not true or not something you want to hear? If I call you out, suddenly I’m the asshole right?”

“If you’re so sure that I won’t have time for you, why don’t we just both do ourselves a favor and break up?” The words come out quicker than Macklin anticipates them to, and he covers his mouth immediately with his hands in shock. “Wait no, baby, I’m sorry—”

“If that’s what you want,” your voice cracks. “It’s clearly something you’ve been bottling up.”

He tries reaching for you but you’re already slipping past him, not wanting to see him any longer.

Macklin knows he’s fucked up. And when he sees a bunch of messages from Olivia and Weston cursing him out and asking what happened, reality sinks in and he buries his face in his hands, crying.

·˚ ༘

Macklin can only be described as inconsolable to his family.

Aiden tries the first few days, telling him he can’t stay in his room forever and that he still has dev camp to go to for San Jose.

“I don’t want to.” He says.

“Well The Sharks don’t care if you want to or not,” Aiden says, pulling as hard as he can on his brother so he gets up. “Dude, seriously. Stop mopping around and go.”

It wasn’t like Aiden didn’t try reaching out to you during the school year. He still went to BU, but you avoided the other Celebrini like the plague. He tried catching you after class, only for you to go the opposite direction as soon as you made eye contact with him.

Now it was summer, and you and Macklin haven’t talked in months. It was taking a toll on Macklin, and everybody around him could see it.

“Why don’t you just go see her before you leave?” Aiden asks. “When BU starts up again? You can help me move in and that’ll be your excuse to go see her.”

Macklin’s ears perk up at that, but he quickly shakes his head. “No, she won’t even want to see me because of the shit I said.”

“You don’t know that,” Aiden says. “Just come with me during move in week. I’ll need help anyways.”

So Macklin goes, and he almost feels like BU is out to suffocate him because it feels overwhelming when he steps back on campus again, back to all the places you and him went during freshman year.

He remembers you telling him about the complex you and Olivia will live in next year. It’s across from the freshman dorms, but a lot nicer.

“Olivia?” Macklin is shocked to see the familiar brunette girl with a heavy box in her hands.

She makes eye contact with him and quickly walks away, but Macklin persists, following the girl. “Wait Olivia, please.”

“What do you want?” She says finally, placing the box on the ground.

“I just want to talk to her.”

Olivia scoffs, clearly disinterested in the conversation. “Well if you must know, she transferred.”

“What?” Macklin feels like the world stopped entirely after hearing that.

“Yeah,” Olivia bites her lip, feet tapping the pavement impatiently. “Left Boston after the two of you were over. I guess she didn’t want to be in a place where everything felt so… you.”

Macklin doesn’t know what to say. His mouth is dry and he feels like crying right on the spot. “Well, do you know where she went?”

“Listen Macklin,” Olivia says, coming to pick up her heavy box again. “I really don’t have time for this, okay? You’ve made your bed, now go lie in it.”

She walks away, and Macklin knows he deserves it. He should’ve never even mentioned a breakup because that was the last thing he wanted to do. It just came out so quickly from a place of insecurity that he couldn’t stop himself in time.

He goes back to the hotel his parents are staying at in Boston that night. They’re flying to the Bay in two days, wanting to help Aiden properly move in before helping Macklin settle in San Jose.

He curses to himself, hating that he ruined such a good thing in his life before it could become great.

As he digs his bag, he finds a familiar sticky yellow post it note.

No way. He thinks. No fucking way.

It was one of yours. You must’ve placed it in his bag before the two of you broke up and he just never caught it.

Remember to call me when you’re free :)

Macklin’s hands shake as he reaches for his phone, pulling up your contact. You’ve never officially blocked him, just stopped answering his messages.

He presses call.

If you were to ask Macklin Celebrini again, “is it better to speak or to die?” he would finally, finally, say speak.