Chapter 12

Sleep waslike a dark cloud of nothingness.

No dreams, no sounds, no images lurking in the shadows. It was as if my brain had closed up shop for the duration. What woke me up was a strong shudder racking my body. It felt like one of those all-body quakes that hit right before you fall ill. Like the first tremors that strike telling you, yep, I think I'm coming down with something. I blinked awake. My damp clothes clung to me, warm, but still wet. A strong pair of arms held me. I knew without tipping my head back that it was Shaun clasping me to him. His scent enveloped me at the same time as his arms did, and I loved it. It made things right in a world that was becoming horribly wrong.

"Hey," he whispered. That one word vibrating through his chest. "Are you awake?"

"Mm," I moaned, unwilling to speak or move.

"You're shivering," he said, his hold on me remaining steadfast, yet I knew if I asked him to let go, he would. But I didn't want him to let go. Not ever.

"Wet clothes," I mumbled into his hoodie, the soft cotton well-worn.

It was a plush, comforting cloth, like a favored blankie from childhood. I'd had one once, flannel, and I'd carried it everywhere until it started to fray. Sobo had taken the blanket one day as I wailed and turned it into a teddy bear. The tears had stopped as I watched the yellow-and-blue checkered toy come to life. Sobo was one hell of a seamstress. I still had Teddy. He sat on my dresser, ragged, and stained, watching over me as a good friend would. Just like Shaun.

"Oh shit, okay, yeah, you need to get out of those and shower."

"Are you trying to see me naked?" I teased, the humor falling flat as I felt as though I'd been tied to a caboose, then dragged all the way to Canada.

"Kenji, no, I would never," Shaun gasped. I lifted my head to find his gaze on me. "Never while you were sick," he corrected softly.

"Someday, I want to see you naked," I whispered.

"The door is open," he pointed out. "And your grandmother keeps passing by like a sentry guard every ten minutes."

"Ugh," I groaned, pushing to one arm to rest on my elbow. He looked so good lying on my bed, his hair sticking up after drying from the wintry mess we'd been in. The cold, biting memory of my weakness poked at me, the guilt and shame like a knife between the ribs. Ilya was right. I was a weakling.

"Hey, are you okay? You suddenly went all kinds of pale," he asked, concern darkening his blue gaze.

"I'm fine." I lied right to his face. I was anything but fine, but athletes did not show pain. Mental or physical. You pushed through. Hit your jumps, smiled at the crowd, and made your coach proud. A tremor ran through me. His worry deepened.

"Okay, yeah, you need to get into the shower." Shaun said, his demeanor switching from cuddle bear to mama bear in the blink of an eye. "Come on." He wiggled free of me, the loss of all that toasty warm Shaun made me shudder. "Get some dry clothes out of the dresser while I get the shower running."

And just like that Nurse Stanton took over. Shaun really should consider some sort of caregiving profession if hockey didn't pan out, which it would, but still, the man was happiest when he was helping others. I sat on the bed, fully clothed right down to my wet socks, and watched him enter the small bathroom linking my room with Jun's. Since Jun had moved out years ago, that room was now Sobo's sewing room, but the shared bath still joined the two.

Shaun was talking away. The taps were turned on. Steam started to creep from the bathroom into my room, yet there I sat like a deflated bullfrog. I had no energy at all. The thought of hauling my ass into the shower was a daunting one, but I knew I had to, so I did.

"Grab something warm," Shaun told me as I moved to slide from the bed. I tested my legs to see if they would hold me up, that was how spent I was. Thankfully, they did, but the thought of Shaun carrying me into the bathroom, then washing my back as I lounged in a bubble bath was a romantic one. Shame there was only a sink, a toilet, and a shower stall in that tiny room.

I pulled out a pink sweater with an anime heroine on it, some fuzzy leggings, and hand knitted socks. Shaun stood nearby, a solid presence filling me with some reassurance that, if I did faceplant, he would be there to catch me. It was nice to know someone would.

"In you go. I'll see if your mom has some soup she can warm up," Shaun said as I pattered around my room.

I paused at the bathroom door. "No, I don't want any soup. Just… tea maybe. Ask Sobo to make some tea."

He nodded, then reached out to push some lank hair from my brow. "Promise me that you won't purge."

I felt so small standing there. And not simply because Shaun was a moose.

"I won't," I replied in a tiny mousy voice.

"Promise me."

Guess he had some doubts. Given what he had seen once before, that was a wise call on his part. I didn't hold the distrust against him. I was quite the liar when I had to be.

"I promise."

I closed the door in his face with a weak smile meant to ease his mind. Steam billowed around me, the mirror over the sink coated with mist. A good thing. I didn't want to see my face right now. I peeled off my clothes, dropped them into the hamper, and walked past the toilet. There would be none of that. I'd promised Shaun, and I meant it. I'd just have to deal with the million calories I'd ingested somehow. Stepping under the water, I gasped at the shock of the hot pulses striking my chilly skin. After a moment, with my face tipped into the spray, I finally felt the heat begin to thaw me. Now, I sighed at the warmth, greedy for it to soak into my marrow. My movements were sluggish as I shampooed, then soaped up, my thoughts foggy. I knew that I'd fucked up royally, and in front of all the Coyotes. The shame of those guys seeing me sitting in a fucking puddle crying like a baby made me half sick. I swallowed down the rising bile, cranked off the hot and cold, and hurried to towel myself off, my sight never once touching on the porcelain seat.

Shaun was waiting when I left the bathroom, towels lying on the floor, which he insisted on picking up as I crawled onto the bed.

"Sobo is making the tea. She said she knew which one would be the best for you," he called from the bathroom while I wiggled under the bedding. When he exited the bath, I had the blanket under my chin as I lounged against the two bed pillows that someone—Shaun—had propped up against my headboard. "You look better."

"I didn't even comb my hair," I pointed out as Sobo arrived carrying a tray with some cookies and wearing an aura of serenity. She always knew far too much, it seemed.

"You look better. Drink some of the tea. It is umeboshi plum so will make the stomach upset better," she said in Japanese, her dark eyes skipping to Shaun whom, who she smiled at widely. "You too, have tea, eat the cookies," she said to him in English.

"I will, thank you," Shaun answered softly.

Sobo turned to me. "Your mother and father are not as fooled as you think, Mochi."

I pulled the blanket to my nose so only my eyes and wild hair were visible. "I'm sorry," I whispered into the bedding.

"No need for sorry. Now rest. We will all talk later." She placed the tray on the dresser, gave Shaun a pat on the cheek, then shuffled off, her little slippers making sparks on the carpeting as she went. The door was left open.

"Okay, so plum tea. Never heard of it." Shaun went to the dresser to begin serving tea.

"It's supposed to make your tummy feel better," I said. He nodded as he carried a cup resting on a saucer to me. I released the covers. They slid to my lap as I took the steaming cup. "Thank you. You don't have to?—"

"Yeah, I kinda do." He returned to the dresser, returning with his cup on a saucer in one hand and a small plate of rolled butter cookies. "These look like cigars."

"They're called yoku moku. Sobo loves them with tea." Shaun offered me one. I declined. "I think I took in enough sugar for one day. Ilya will be livid when I weigh in tomorrow."

"Fuck Ilya and his obsession with a few pounds," Shaun growled before biting into his cookie with aggression. I wanted to bitch at him, but weak and sick at myself, I blew over my tea instead. Shaun huffed out a weary sigh. "Sorry, I know I promised not to rail on him anymore, but, Kenji, his methods are insane. There is no reason you or the girls should be reduced to this state by your coach."

"You don't know my state is his fault," I protested weakly.

His blue gaze snapped to me from the crumbs on his shirt. "Tell me what happened to upset you so much that you did what you did. Was it someone at school?"

"No," I whispered into my tea. Shaun sat beside me waiting for some honesty from me. I owed him that. "I got detention for being late to biology. I was too late for group, and Ilya was pissed all the way off about some other coach who got into his business about his students. He ripped me a new one, and I just… couldn't cope. I'm too weak."

"Okay, first off, if Ilya is pissy about an adult coming to him to point out his ancient barbaric methods, then he should mouth off at the adult, not take it out on you. Second, fuck that noise. You are not weak. That's Ilya talking that bullshit. You're one of the toughest people that I know."

"Strong men don't binge eat Mounds bars, then break down in a parking lot so completely that their boyfriend has to come rescue them," I muttered into the sweet steam rising from my cup of tea.

"Man, he has skewed your perception of mental health big time," he said around a bite of cookie. "Men are allowed to feel things, Kenji."

"I know."

"No, I don't think you do. I mean, you know in some small space in your brain that is reasonable, but then you listen to Ilya who is toxic AF and his shit poisons your good thinking."

I didn't want to hear all of this. I knew, deep down, what Shaun was saying was right. Ilya was rough on us, too rough at times, but wasn't that what was needed to become a champion? Did guys who broke down over being yelled at ever win the gold? I doubted it.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked.

I glanced up from the tea debris floating in my cup into beautiful blue eyes. "No, I'm not mad at you. I'm just so tired of this all. I think…" I took a sip of tea, then sighed as it coated my dry throat. "I think I'm slipping a little. From the last time?"

Shaun nestled a little closer with care, so as to not spill our tea, but to ensure I felt him at my side. I loved it so much, that strong body of his next to mine. "Like, I had a counselor and everything, but he was… I don't know. He got me through it and all, but I was younger, and now, things are like tripled. School work? Tripled. Skating? Tripled. Life? Tripled. The world? Tripled. And back then, I didn't have sexual shit going on, and it was just…" I took a second to pull my thoughts together. "Sometimes I feel so out of control about everything that I would do anything to get some relief. I know this sounds stupid to you, but when I used to purge, it made me feel better. Soothed me somehow."

He bobbed his head, his long legs stretched out in front of him, my feet coming to just below his kneecaps. I loved that he thought he understood, but he didn't. How could he? He'd not been the one with the eating disorder.

"Maybe you should call your old counselor or look into finding one who deals with athletic teens. You could ask your folks to help. They love you so much."

"No, I can't put them through that again. It's not as bad this time," I hurried to say, my sight lifting from my tea to find Shaun staring at me. He didn't seem as if he believed me. "It's not. I just had a little moment, that's all it was. I didn't do anything stupid. I'm not going to make myself sick. I know better. It was just an anxiety attack."

"Okay, if you say so, but will you promise me that, if you feel like you're slipping, will you, please, tell your parents?"

"Yeah, I promise," I replied and meant it. If I felt myself regressing, I would tell my mother or father or even Sobo. I'd reach out.

"Okay then." He looked rather firm for a moment, then the sternness faded to be replaced by something much gentler. "I need to ask you about something you said earlier."

"If it's about Ilya…"

"No, no, it is not about him." He spit out the word him as if it left a taste like moldy cheese on his tongue. "It's about a term you used." His fingers holding the teacup shook as his gaze darted from me to his cup, then back to me. "You used the term ‘boyfriend' when you spoke."

Had I? I thought back. Oh. Oh yeah, I had. Shit. I placed my tea on the nightstand to cool while I mentally scurried around like a squirrel searching his tree for a certain nut he could crack open. I needed a nut with a suitable explanation for using such a huge word off the cuff.

"It's not that I object," he hurried to say as I sat there acting like a dipshit who couldn't use his words. "I mean… it's a loaded word, yeah, but I like the sound of it."

He handed his empty teacup to me. I stared down into the leaves in the bottom. "It says here that your friend Kenji also really likes the sound of the word boyfriend."

I peeked at him through some hair.

"I didn't know you read tea leaves."

"I'm a man of many talents," I tossed out.

"It has to be secret," Shaun murmured. "I'm sorry, I can't… Being boyfriends has to be secret. My parents don't know that I have feelings for you or anything like that. And then, there's hockey, so that's a whole thing about being queer and out when I hit the draft. Would a team even pick me if they knew I liked guys?"

"I'm sure there are plenty of teams that would love to have you. The Railers are rainbow central. Choo-choo." He snorted. "I made a train sound because they're Railers."

"Yeah, I got the joke."

"What are we like? I mean, honestly, what the hell are we?"

"We're boyfriends," he replied, then turned to face me.

"Yeah, we are," I replied as I tipped my face up to meet his lips. The brush of his mouth over mine swept out all the cobwebs that had my thoughts so ensnared. His touch was soft as cotton candy and just as sweet.

The kiss was fleeting, shaky, timid. Perfect.

Just like him.