The Night That Ky Stayed
(Hockey! Dad! Tucker flashback #1)
Tucker’s call came in just after three in the morning, and seeing his name pop up— Ky almost ignored it— but Tucker wouldn’t try to get ahold of him this late unless something was on fire.
Ky rolled over and snatched his phone off of the nightstand, answering the call with a grunt sound meant to be a greeting.
There’s a soft, cracking sound from the other end. It could be a bad connection, but it sounds more like someone struggling to find their words, choking on the weight of them.
When he finally does find them, Tucker's voice is hollow and wrong, not just his usual dryness— it’s empty. The sharp shrill sound of Theo’s cries break through like his protests are so loud, so insistent, that the microphone can’t keep up.
“She’s gone, Ky. She— she left him here. She just left him.”
His voice cracks, and Ky can hear the rough scratch in his throat as he swallows and tries again.
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help him.” The sound of Tucker’s barely concealed tears cause his voice to waver in a way that makes Ky’s entire chest lock up.
“Ky, I need you.”
“I’m on my way.”
Ky shows up twenty minutes later, having circled the apartment building cursing at his GPS for much longer than he would have liked. The apartment door is unlocked.
The only light coming from inside is the harsh glow of the muted tv reflecting off of the white walls. A soothing baby music video that had obviously been an abandoned effort is playing silently. He notices the half empty drawers pulled open and the messy bathroom counter, like someone had swept everything into their bag in a hurry. The smell of spilled perfume and spit up is a sharp reminder of the loss Tucker just endured.
He finds Tucker in the kitchen with his back pressed against the cabinets. Theo is still screaming his head off, eight weeks old, purple-faced and wailing. More concerning than that is Tucker crumpled in on himself— with one hand on Theo’s back— and the other covering his own mouth as if physically trying to hold in his own pain to spare his son any more heartache.
He’s wearing a hoodie covered in spit up, and one of his socks is only halfway on. It takes him a moment to even register that Ky is standing in front of him. Long enough that Ky walks over and slides down next to him with a sigh.
“She’s gone,” Tucker chokes out.
“I know. You said.”
“No, I mean she’s like gone gone. She signed papers before she even left. She— she already had them. She just left him and I—“ His voice cuts off with a sharp breath in, and instead of finishing his sentence he just stares down at Theo.
He couldn’t imagine what kind of person could leave behind their own child. Not when he looks down and sees his own reflection staring back at him— needing him, counting on him.
“I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to— he won’t stop— I’ve tried everything, I—“ His voice breaks off again, his free hand sliding up to press his fingers into his eyes.
“Can I hold him?”
“…What?” Tucker blinks.
“The baby… Theo. Can I hold him? I’ll just… I don’t know— walk him around in circles or something? My mom always says that movement helps.”
“Have you ever held a baby before?” Tucker asks, but he’s already slowly moving Theo towards Ky, as if he can’t resist the reprieve.
“Like two… so I’m pretty much an expert.” He hasn’t. When Ky’s sister brought his niece to Thanksgiving last year he hid in the basement, but Tuck doesn’t need to know that.
Tucker watches Ky from his spot on the floor for the next few minutes. He starts walking in small circles around the pack and play, muttering “support the head, bounce the baby” under his breath. It’s the only two things he knows.
After a few minutes of pacing and bouncing Theo’s cries start to fade into whimpers. The kind of whimpers mixed with hiccups that mean his tiny body has surrendered to the exhaustion from his fit.
Ky doesn’t notice at first. He’s too busy focusing on not dropping him that his arms are stiff and shaky, but when he looks down to see Theo’s wide eyes half closed and watery— his tiny hand clenched around Ky’s pointer finger— the whole room seems to take a breath.
He doesn’t stop walking though, terrified that Theo will start screaming again and his best friend will crack right down the middle. For one quick moment before his little eyes finally shut, the corner of Theo’s mouth quirks up at the corner.
“He just… I think he just smiled at me.” Ky whispers, sounding proud of his accomplishment.
“It’s just a gas reflex.” Tucker mutters back, his voice dry and devoid of much other than a tired breath that could be a laugh.
“No it’s not. Don’t take this moment from me.” Ky scoffs, a hint of their usual playful dynamic returning.
Then Theo farts.
And Tucker actually laughs despite the pain in his chest.
Ky keeps bouncing, keeps pacing long after Theo has fallen asleep against his chest. Neither of them say it out loud, but it’s clear that Ky isn’t leaving.
That night he sleeps on the living room floor, his hand pushed up against the mesh of the pack and play to feel for any movement— Tucker sprawls out on the other side, laying at an angle that will definitely hurt his neck in the morning, but sleep is sleep.
Despite the signed papers still sitting on the kitchen counter, and the hole left in Tucker and Theo’s hearts from tonight, he knows they’ll be okay.
Eventually.
Especially when Theo has an uncle like Ky.
Over the next few days boxes started appearing at the apartment one by one, lovingly labeled (by Neema) as ‘Ky’s shit’, ‘more of Ky’s shit’ and ‘Ky seriously stop buying shit’. The tiny guest room was emptied out and filled with said ‘shit’.
Tucker never asked, and Ky never left.