Cup magic was a rumour Kent never really believed, until he found himself standing in his 18-year-old self’s bedroom in Vegas. At more years past 30 than he’d like to admit, he’d expected to wake up in Quebec next to his fiance this morning with a slight hangover and memories of the cup win celebration from the night before. Instead, he was staring at his younger self sitting on a twin bed in front of an Oceanic jersey with a 1 emblazoned on the back.
‘Ah, shit,’ Kent thought. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, wondering how the hell he was supposed to deal with this.
“Who the hell are you?” His younger self said, through a voice pretending not to be thick with tears.
Kent’s hand flopped away from his face, palm up. “Who does it look like I am?” He said, bemused.
“Some washed up old hockey player,” Kenny shrugged- and he really did look like a Kenny, all freckles and scattered pimples and messy blond hair and so, so young.
“Rude,” Kent replied. He watched his 18-year-old self try to subtly wipe off his cheeks. Eighteen- he was really just a kid. Who let this kid get shipped across the country, all alone with an entire team’s expectations riding on him? “Are you okay?” He asked, then shook his head. “No. No you’re not, I know that.” He took a deep breath, trying to remember everything that was spiraling in his thoughts at that age. It wasn’t pretty. “I’m sorry. It sucks right now, huh?”
Kenny just glared down at the bed, so Kent continued. “It does get better. You are happy, eventually, just… not right now. Not for a long time. But it’s worth it, to stay alive.”
He adjusted his cap- still on his head from the night before, he assumed- and took another breath. It hurt more than he would have expected, seeing himself like this. “We have a kid now- never expected that, huh?”
Kenny looked up in horror. “I’m a dad?”
Kent laughed. “You definitely aren’t yet. I am, though. Pretty good at it, too.”
Kenny looked back down at the frayed jersey sleeve edge he was playing with. “So… you have a wife and stuff?”
“Dude…” Kent frowned and leaned his head to the side, as if to say ‘come on.’ “You know-” at Kenny’s abrupt look of poorly concealed fear, he decided not to continue that sentence and shook his head. “I’ll let you figure that out.” His eyes drifted down to the blue jersey on the bed. “It’s not him, though,” he said quickly. “Yeah, that…” he sighed. “That wound hurts for a while.”
“It’s whatever,” his own self lied to him, but Kent decided not to call him out for it.
Kent stood there in silence for a while, the rush of feelings and memories from being confronted with this a lot to deal with. Then Kenny looked up and caught sight of Kent’s new hat. “That’s not an Aces hat,” he gaped.
Kent laughed and covered the blue and red logo. “Hey, spoilers,” he joked.
“For my own life?” Kenny replied, indignantly.
“Hey, I don’t know how time travel works, I don’t know what I am and am not allowed to tell you.” Kenny rolled his eyes at that. “It is your fourth cup hat, though,” Kent grinned, “so have fun with that.”
“Nice.” Kenny grinned back, but Kent saw it was closer to his media smile than the genuine, toothy one.
Kent pursed his lips. “Listen,” he said, “I know other people say you don’t need anyone to inflate your ego more.” He was suddenly more sincere than he’d ever been, knowing he had needed to hear this. “But… you do so good, and you work so hard, I know that.” He pushed the truth out through his words. “And I’m so proud of you.”
Kent watched his younger self scrunch his eyebrows and blink his eyes rapidly. He thought back to what he really needed that rookie year, and the “can I hug you?” was out of his mouth not a second later.
Kenny shrugged, but Kent knew himself well enough to read that as a desperate yes. He stepped forwards and Kenny did too, standing up off the bed. Kent held his younger self as the teen’s shoulders began to shake with muffled sobs.
“Hey,” Kent said softly. He felt tears prickle his own eyes. It hurt to remember how he felt then, but mostly, his heart ached for his past self, for how the world had treated him, for how much he had survived through. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”
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