Chapter 2. Locked In

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the room. A strand of Christmas lights Taylor had strung around the equipment cage flickered intermittently, their cheerful blinking at odds with the growing tension in the room. A forgotten Santa hat hung limply from one of the coat hooks, mocking their predicament.

“Check your phone,” Louis demanded, his voice echoing off the lockers.

Kaden pulled out his smartphone with exaggerated slowness. “No service,” he muttered, then dropped it back into his coat pocket. “Guess you’re stuck with me, darling.”

Louis slammed his fist against the door, pain shooting through his knuckles. The hollow sound echoed through the empty room. “Hey! Anyone out there?” Another hit, then another, each impact a desperate plea into the silence. He kept going, hoping some late-night security guard or cleaning staff would hear him, but the only response was the dull thud of his own fist against metal. After a full minute, his hand aching and useless, he let it drop to his side. Of course, no one would hear them—it was Christmas Eve, and the cleaning crew was long gone.

Louis huffed in annoyance, dropping his bag by the door with a thud before shrugging off his coat and letting it fall carelessly on top.

Kaden had already made himself comfortable on the bench again, pulling a leather-bound book from his bag as if this were some planned vacation. The casual way he turned each page made Louis’s blood boil.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re just going to read?”

“What would you prefer?” Kaden’s eyes flickered up, a hint of mockery in their blue depths. “We could cuddle for warmth. Play truth or dare or strip poker.”

“Go to hell.” Louis stalked to the high windows, studying the narrow rectangles near the ceiling. Outside, snow was still falling heavily, coating the glass. He dragged one of the wooden benches across the floor, the scraping sound satisfyingly harsh.

“What exactly are you doing?” Kaden asked, finally looking up from his book as Louis started wrestling a second bench on top of the first.

“What does it look like?” Louis grunted, steadying the makeshift tower. “I’m getting out of here. Some of us have places to be.”

He didn’t have anywhere to be, but Kaden didn’t need to know that.

“You’re not getting out through that window, Spiderman.” Kaden’s voice was sharp with amusement. “First of all, that broad chest of yours won't fit through there, and secondly, there’s no handle—the window doesn’t open. And you’re definitely not making it if broken glass gets involved.”

Louis ignored him, climbing onto the stacked benches. The wooden structure swayed precariously under his weight.

Behind him, a book snapped shut, and Kaden’s voice cut through the air. “Do you want to break your fucking neck?”

Louis ignored him and reached for the window, fingers searching for any grip. No handle. He pushed against the glass experimentally, then banged on it.

“Taking all those hits must have really scrambled your brain, sweetheart,” Kaden said, but there was an edge to his voice. “Though watching you fail is always entertaining—”

The benches shifted beneath him. Louis felt his balance waver, tried to catch himself, but it was already too late. The world tilted sideways as he fell, and the crash of his body hitting the bench echoed through the locker room. A sharp burst of pain shot through his leg.

“Fuck, you absolute moron!” Kaden’s expensive shoes appeared in his field of vision, and then suddenly, he was there, dropping to his knees beside Louis, his face shadowed with worry. “Hey, can you hear me?”

Louis blinked, head pulsing. As he tried to sit up, spots danced in his vision, and then he felt the warm wetness trickling down his leg. Blood was seeping through his pants where he’d caught his ankle on the bench.

“Oh shit—” The room tilted as Louis stared at the growing dark stain.

But Kaden was already moving. He yanked up Louis’s pant leg, then pulled a crisp white handkerchief from his pocket, folded it into a pad, and pressed it against the wound.

“Hold this,” he ordered, voice tight. Then he unwound his silk scarf—the gold “Hermès” lettering glinting in the fluorescent light—and, with surprisingly skilled hands, began wrapping it around Louis’s ankle as a makeshift bandage.

“There’s a medkit somewhere in here,” Louis said as Kaden pulled the ends of the silk scarf tight around his ankle.

“This is just to keep you from bleeding all over the floor,” Kaden said, “Now that we have time, we can find the medkit, clean the wound, and wrap it properly before it gets infected.” His arm slid around Louis’s waist, warm and steady, as he helped him up. “Come on, tough guy.” When Louis tried to take a step, pain shot up his leg. He grabbed Kaden’s shoulder instinctively, fingers digging into the wool coat.

They made their way to the intact bench, each step a careful negotiation. Louis could feel Kaden’s breath against his neck.

“I’ll look for the medkit,” Kaden said.

“It’s fine,” Louis muttered, dropping onto the bench. “Don’t need anything else.”

Kaden’s eyes found his, holding that familiar mix of mockery and something unreadable. “If you want to get an infection and have your leg amputated mid-season, then sure, it’s fine.” His gaze swept the room before landing on a white cabinet mounted on the far wall. “Ah. There it is.”

Louis didn’t protest this time. He watched Kaden retrieve the kit, then carefully lay his wool coat and suit jacket across the bench beside them. He folded back his shirt sleeves in neat, precise rolls up to his elbows before kneeling in front of Louis.

Something in the room shifted. The snap of latex gloves punctuated the silence as Kaden pulled them on. One by one, he laid out bandages, antiseptic, and gauze on the bench in front of him with the same methodical focus he brought to the ice.

“Hold still,” Kaden murmured, carefully lifting Louis’s injured leg to rest on his thigh. His fingers ghosted over the makeshift bandage where blood had begun to stain the silk, darkening its pattern. Louis found himself studying the familiar intensity in Kaden’s expression—a look he usually only saw during games.

“I could’ve done this myself,” Louis said, his voice rougher than he intended.

Kaden’s laugh was soft and bitter. “You’d probably bleed to death just to spite me.” His touch was careful as he cleaned the wound, the sting of antiseptic making Louis hiss. Kaden pressed the pad against the wound, his hands steady as he wrapped the fresh bandage with slow, deliberate movements.

“There,” he said finally, fingers lingering at Louis’s ankle. “That should hold.”

Louis swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

Kaden peeled off the latex gloves, those blue eyes finally meeting Louis’s. “Well, you’re welcome. Can’t have you dying on me—no one would believe I didn’t murder you.” He stood up, brushing invisible dust from his knees. “Though I have to admit, the headlines would be delicious. ‘Hockey’s Golden Boy Snaps, Murders Rival on Christmas Eve.’“

Louis snorted before he could stop himself, hating how easily the sound had escaped. He pulled out his phone again, powering it off and on in desperate hope of finding a signal. Nothing. Then, the reality of their situation hit him like a punch to the gut. “Oh god,” he breathed, panic creeping into his voice as the pieces clicked into place. “Tomorrow’s Christmas. Everyone’s gone home. Nobody’s going to check this place for days.”

Something flickered across Kaden’s face—a crack in his usual smug composure. His perfect facade slipped for just a moment as the reality of their situation sank in. “Wait, what?” He tried to mask his growing unease with a dismissive wave of his hand, but his voice betrayed him, the practiced confidence wavering. “Someone’s bound to come looking for you. We’ll be found. Today or tomorrow morning, latest.”

Louis shook his head. “Nobody’s going to look for me.”

“You have a family, don’t you?” Kaden’s tone was oddly serious now, studying Louis with unexpected intensity.

“Just my aunt. We can go days without talking. She won’t realize anything’s wrong for a couple of days at least.”

“What about a girlfriend?” Kaden asked, then added with a deliberate smirk, “Or boyfriend?”

“Shut up,” Louis snapped.

“I’m actually serious,” Kaden said, the usual venom absent from his voice.

“I don’t have anyone,” Louis ground out. “What about you? Your parents? Your butler or something?”

“Butler?” Kaden scoffed. “I don’t have a butler.”

“Whatever! Weren’t you supposed to be at some fancy event tonight?”

“You’re just assuming that?” Kaden’s voice turned sharp, defensive.

“Well, weren’t you?” Louis frowned. “Why else would you be dressed like a fucking prince charming?”

“Sort of,” Kaden admitted reluctantly, shoulders slumping slightly as the polished facade dimmed. “But they won’t look for me either. They’ll just assume I didn’t show because of the storm or something.”

“Oh God,” Louis sighed again, slumping forward with his head in his hands.

The silence settled between them for a long moment before Kaden pushed himself to his feet. He wandered to the nearest stall, rifling through the gear bags left behind. A protein bar emerged from Miller’s bag, then another.

“Hey, stop that,” Louis protested. “You can’t steal from people’s bags.”

“They’re your teammates, aren’t they?” Kaden didn’t even pause, moving to the next stall with calm determination. His voice carried easily across the quiet room. “I’m sure they wouldn’t want us to die from starvation.”

“Me, maybe,” Louis muttered. “You? Not so much.”

Kaden’s soft chuckle echoed off the walls as he continued his systematic raid of the room. Stall by stall, his collection grew. When he finally made his way back to the center of the room, he laid his bounty carefully on the bench between them.

“Well,” he announced, arranging the protein bars into a precise stack, “at least we won’t die of starvation. Twelve protein bars should keep us alive long enough to be found.” He picked one up, turning it over in his hands with exaggerated disdain. “Though I have to say, your team’s taste in flavors is questionable at best. Apple cider protein bar?” Kaden wrinkled his nose. “That sounds absolutely vile.”

“I’m not spending Christmas locked in here with you,” Louis growled, more to himself than Kaden.

“What, afraid they’ll come up with another story about us?” Kaden’s voice dripped sweet venom. “Something saucy, maybe? Did you know there are girls who think we fuck?”

Louis clenched his jaws. “Maybe because you lead them on on Twitter?”

“No,” Kaden’s lips curved into a dangerous smile. “I think they’re just feeling this natural tension between us.”

Louis slid off the bench and leaned back against it, the cool tile grounding him as his heart pounded, each beat echoing in his ears. His palms felt clammy, but he ignored the discomfort. Something about tonight—the quiet, the isolation, or maybe just Kaden’s constant needling—made the weight in his chest impossible to ignore. He wasn’t sure if it was courage or exhaustion fueling him, but the urge to finally address the unspoken tension between them surged to the surface. If he didn’t do it now, he never would.

“Okay,” he said, his voice tight but determined. “I see you’re going to keep bringing this up, so let’s talk about the elephant in the fucking room while we’re at it.”

His pulse quickened as the words left his mouth, but there was no taking them back now. He clenched his jaw, bracing himself for whatever came next.

Kaden shifted where he sat, stretching his legs out in front of him with an air of casual ease. His expression remained calm, but there was something in his eyes—something guarded like he was waiting to see where this was going.

He tilted his head just slightly, his voice smooth and maddeningly unaffected. “What elephant?”

Louis’s heart thundered in his chest, but he kept his eyes locked on Kaden, his jaw tightening as he forced the words out. “The fucking kiss.” Each syllable felt like a challenge, but he refused to back down now. It had been buried long enough, and if Kaden wanted to keep pushing, then fine—they’d push.

He could see the flicker in Kaden’s eyes, a split second of something unguarded before it shifted into practiced confusion. Louis knew better. That look wasn’t real—it was Kaden buying time, scrambling for a response.

“Juniors,” Louis pressed on, his voice steady despite the rapid thrum of his pulse. “The last game we played together. I kissed you by the pool at the afterparty.”

The words hit the air like a slap, sharp and unavoidable. Louis stayed rooted, his gaze steady and unrelenting. If Kaden wanted to play dumb, he’d have to do it while staring down the full force of Louis’s resolve. There was no escaping this, not now.

A faint flush crept up Kaden’s neck, but his tone turned sharp, almost biting. “Why the hell are you bringing this up now?”

“Because every time we see each other, it feels like you’re throwing it back in my face,” Louis said, his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest.

Kaden stayed still, his expression unreadable in the uneven glow of the flickering Christmas lights. The soft hum of the overhead fluorescents filled the silence, pressing down on them both.

“I was drunk,” Louis said finally, the words coming out low, almost reluctant. “That’s why I kissed you. If it made you uncomfortable—if it upset you—then I’m sorry.”

“It didn’t,” Kaden said, the response quick, almost too quick. His face shifted as if he’d bitten into something sour, and he added with forced nonchalance, “Stop being weird, Zenith.”

Louis studied him, waiting for the usual smirk or sharp remark, but none came. Kaden looked flustered, almost unsettled, his focus fixed on the protein bar he was slowly turning over in his hands. The silence between them stretched, heavy and awkward, broken only by the faint hum of the lights and the occasional flicker of the Christmas decorations.

The confession lingered in the air, unresolved. Louis felt an odd twist in his chest—relief that Kaden wasn’t mocking him for once, but also a strange, bitter disappointment at the lack of a reaction. Kaden’s refusal to meet his gaze, the absence of any real response left the moment feeling incomplete, like a question hanging in the air with no intention of being answered.

His leg throbbed as Louis pushed himself up from the floor. He had to try the door again, had to do something besides sit here with Kaden’s silence. Each step turned into an awkward hop as pain shot through his ankle.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kaden asked. “You can’t put pressure on that leg unless you want to bleed all over this place.”

“I said I’m not spending Christmas here with you,” Louis muttered.

He tried to brute force the door, but it didn’t budge. Ten more minutes of studying hinges and looking for weak points proved useless—without tools, they were stuck.

Kaden came up to him, annoyance written on his face. “Can you please sit back down? We don’t have enough bandages to redo your leg every five minutes.”

Louis shot Kaden a scowl but didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, he grabbed his parka and made his way to the nearest bench. The cold was becoming noticeable now, seeping into his skin and making his muscles stiff. He settled onto the bench and draped the parka over his shoulders, the familiar weight offering a small measure of comfort.

Reaching into his pocket, Louis pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment as he considered checking again, but he stopped himself. The battery was at 47%, and if they ended up stuck here longer than expected, it would be better to save it, just in case. He turned the screen off and slid the phone back into his pocket, glancing toward Kaden. The sight of him sitting there so calm, so collected, only made the irritation bubbling under Louis’s skin worse.

“Check your service again?” Louis asked, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

“I already told you I don’t have any,” Kaden said, catching the edge in Louis’s voice.

“Just…check again.”

“Why would it be any different from yours?”

“Because your phone probably costs more than my car,” Louis muttered. “Maybe it’s got better reception or something.”

Kaden rolled his eyes, but there was something almost fond in his exasperation. “Yeah, I get it—you don’t want to be stuck here with me. But would it kill you to ask nicely?”

Louis hadn’t expected those words to sting quite so much. He paused, really looking at Kaden for the first time since they’d been locked in. It was true—for all his taunting on the ice, Kaden had been surprisingly decent since they’d been trapped. He’d helped with Louis’s injury without hesitation, hadn’t even complained about ruining his probably ridiculously expensive scarf. Louis opened his mouth, not quite sure what he was going to say—

The fluorescent lights flickered once, twice, then plunged the room into darkness.

“Fuck,” Louis breathed.

“Storm must have knocked out the power,” Kaden suggested, his voice oddly close in the dim room.

“No, the Christmas lights are still—” Louis started, gesturing toward the equipment cage. But even as he spoke, the cheerful string of lights winked out, leaving them in total blackness. “Fuck.”