Just Pretend It Isn’t Real （11）

H: Don't knock when you get here. Don't wanna wake Neilly. Just text me.

Hayes stared at his phone.

12:57 a.m.

It'd been over an hour since Hayes had texted TK and he was starting to worry. Not only was he worried that something had happened to his friend, but he had swallowed his last three oxys and was down to zero. He wouldn't be able to get an appointment with the team doctor until at least Friday because of the holiday, but there was no way in hell she would write him another prescription, since this last one was supposed to last him for a month and it hadn't even made it a week.

In addition to whatever TK was bringing him to numb the pain, he'd asked him to get more pills as well.

And of course he'd agreed.

Hayes wasn't sure exactly what was going on between himself and TK, but whatever it was, he knew it had the potential to be either really great or really awful.

And that thought, as much as he hated to admit it, excited him a bit.

They were the outcasts.

The black sheep.

The fuckups.

Travis Kadin arrived in New York well after his reputation had, and Hayes had made it a point to defend him in his absence when some of the other guys began talking shit about him in the locker room before a practice one day.

"You understand what a complete scumbag this dude is, right? Fucked Yardy's pregnant wife. That's why he's coming here. Yardy laid an ultimatum on the Preds and they caved."

"Yeah, but like, how do you know that's true though?" Hayes shot back at Hughesy, wrapping the heel of his stick with Pride Tape. "That could be a made-up rumor."

"All I know," Ray De Haas chimed in, "Is that I'm keeping him the fuck away from my wife. Dude's a fuckin' druggie, too. Legit piece of shit."

"So, you don't think he at least deserves a chance?" Hayes argued, standing up and putting down the stick that he'd been taping, his tone shifting. "Don't you think he deserves our respect, man? You're basin' all this shit on rumors. He's gonna need our support."

"Oh, aren't you cute? What, you hoping to get a piece of that shit for yourself there, Hayes?" De Haas teased. "I mean, he is hot. I can't deny that."

"Yo: watch it," Hughesy immediately warned him, then offered a nod to Hayes, letting him know he wouldn't tolerate any of that shit.

"Sorry," De Haas half-assedly offered Hayes. "Look, man. It's one thing to rip a couple lines at an afterparty. It's another to be fucked up all the goddamn time. He's trashed constantly. And it sucks. The kid had real potential. He'll be lucky if he sees his 22nd birthday, honestly."

"I just think you're being unfair is all. You know what? Fuck this. At least he'll have a friend in me." Hayes got up, snatched his stick, and stormed out of the locker room toward the tunnel, the other guys staring until he disappeared.

"Fuck's up his ass?"

It burned him up to no end when people talked shit about addicts just because they were addicts.

As if somehow, that's the only thing they had to offer the world, that one terrible fact canceling out every other wonderful thing about them.

As if it was something anyone aspired to be when they were just a wide-eyed, fun-loving child full of wonder and dreaming of what their future will look like.

As if any of them woke up one day and were like, "You know, a family, love, a nice home, and a job I enjoy would all be awesome, but you know what"d be even better? If I could become so dependent on drugs or alcohol that I lose any shred of hope for all of those things in a fuckin' instant. Ooh, know what else'd be great? If I could leave my young son to fend for himself for most of his childhood while I drink myself to death and get the shit kicked out of me by whoever I happen to be fuckin' that week."

OK, so perhaps that last one was personal.

But he knew what he knew: that no one, not one, single, solitary, goddamn soul set out to make this their reality, in the same way no one set out to have their body eaten alive by cancer; both were awful diseases, and yet, being an addict had this ridiculously unfair stigma attached to it. He knew better than anyone that it was, in fact, a disease and he'd always resented the way society had mercilessly scathed those who suffered from it.

Addicts needed help. They needed love. They needed support. They needed someone to listen, to understand.

What they didn't need was incessant, holier-than-thou judgment against their"choices."

Because if Tyler Hayes knew anything at all, it was this: addict or not, we all make "choices" that hold the potential to ruin our lives. And those who cast the first stones had better be careful, as Karma had a funny way of showing up and kicking one's ass when one least expected it to.

His phone buzzed, and he grabbed it off the bed next to him, sitting up abruptly.

TK: Here. Come let me in.

Hayes made his way to the front door as quietly as possible, so as not to wake Neilly or his two young kids, who were staying in the spare bedroom at the other end of the apartment. Thanksgiving was one of the holidays he was allowed to spend with them as per the divorce agreement, the thought of which left a pit in the bottom of Hayes's stomach.

Hayes unlocked the door, completely forgetting that the alarm had been armed stay with no entry delay and tripped it, immediately filling the apartment with "Front door: alarm!" and a series of loud sirens that he panicked to quell, finally able to do so after about five seconds.

"Fuck!" he yelled, as TK pushed past him into the apartment.

"So much for not waking' Neilly up, huh?" TK laughed, punching him in the arm as Hayes closed the door and reset the alarm.

"Maybe he didn't hear…"

Just then, Neilly came around the corner wearing nothing but blue plaid pajama pants and on his phone with the alarm company. "Yep…It's Neil Halloway. Password is…" He paused and shot a sideways glance at Hayes, who'd chosen it. "Cockmonkey69…yep, we're fine. My dumbass roommate just set it off…thanks, you too."

"I'm sorry, man. I didn't…"

"Daddy?" Neilly's young son came around the corner, rubbing his eyes. "I heard something scary."

"It's OK, buddy." He grabbed his son's shoulder and turned him back around down the hallway. "Let's get you back to bed, alright? And you?" He turned toward Hayes. "Stay right here. We need to have a little chat."

Hayes watched him take his son back to bed.

"Ooh, you're in deep shit now!" TK teased, looking around. "Yo, this place is really nice. I may have to treat myself to an upgrade. My place is shit."

"Just…I'll meet you in my room, OK? Head down that hallway, second door on the left. I gotta see what Dad wants."

TK did as he was told just as Neilly came back into the kitchen. "You? Sit," he said, pointing at one of the countertop stools. Neilly stood across from Hayes, leaning down onto the granite on both elbows and staring at him.

"I didn't mean to set it off, man. I said I was…"

"Fuck the alarm, Hayes. What the fuck's Trav doing here? Didn't you just drop Ryan off for his flight?"

"I…yeah, but he…I mean…it's not…" Hayes stammered, rubbing his face and avoiding eye contact with his roommate.

"Listen to me." He snapped his fingers in Hayes's face, forcing his eyes to lift and meet his. "Everyone is talking. OK? Everyone. And it isn't…it isn't good, man."

"OK…?"

"We can all just pretend it isn't real, but the two of you are fucked up all the time. And people are starting to notice, OK? The coaches, the other players, the fans. Have you seen some of the shit that's been going around about you two on social media? It's embarrassing…"

"Oh, but it's all good when you're spit roastin' someone's underage daughter with him in an Anaheim hotel room, eh? That's fine?"

Neilly shook his head contemptuously. "Fuck, kid. This isn't about…and she was not underage."

Hayes doubled down, knowing he was just messing with him. "OK, bud. Keep tellin' yourself that. She barely had pubes, bro."

"None of them have pubes."

Hayes shot him the double thumbs-up.

"Whatever. This isn't about me. You're…this bullshit with you and Trav is getting out of control, man."

"Whaddya you wanna do about it then, eh?" Hayes asked, raising his voice, then quieting down, remembering the kids. "It's just…my shoulder, OK? You don't know how much pain…"

"Oh no? I don't?" Neilly shot back, turning and pointing to the 14-inch scar that ran halfway up his spine. "Disc surgery. Out for an entire season. Hurts every goddamn day, kid. You don't see me out here all fucked up on pain pills and God knows what else."

"Well, aren't you just fuckin' amazing?" Hayes sneered, getting up from the stool and pushing it under the counter.

"Be careful, Hayes. You wanna lose your career? Your reputation? You wanna lose Ryan?"

Hayes rolled his eyes and scoffed. "My reputation's been a nightmare since I can remember. And I…already lost Ryan, so there's that."

"You two break up?"

"Nah, but he fuckin' left. He's gone, man. He'll find someone else within a matter of minutes and I'll be left to fend for my fuckin' self just like I always am."

"Hayes, that's literally the dumbest shit I've ever heard. You love him. And he's crazy about you. You know that."

"Yeah? And? You think he's gonna sit around and wait for me, some piece of shit junkie?"

Neilly walked around the counter, grabbed Hayes by the sides of his face, and squeezed. "Give him a reason to." He let go and pointed his finger into his chest. "And Hayes? Be careful with that one," he warned, gesturing toward Hayes's bedroom. "I mean it. I'm not fucking trying to call 911 tonight, OK? My goddamn kids are here, and I gotta get them up early for the parade tomorrow. So just…be careful. Got it?"

"Yup," Hayes said coldly, avoiding eye contact.

And with that, Neilly turned and headed back toward his bedroom, with Hayes doing the same.

Like you fuckin' give a shit what happens to either of us.

???

Hayes entered his bedroom, greeted by the welcome sight of a shirtless TK sprawled across his bed, a buffet of drug paraphernalia displayed on his nightstand.

Hayes swallowed, remembering how he'd moaned his name while Ryan came in his ass on the shower floor the other night.

Probably best to just skip that part.

Ryan Baylor was still the hottest man Hayes had ever seen, but Travis Kadin was about as close to runner-up as anyone had ever been to anything.

Good God was he fine.

"There you are, baby," he said, sitting up and pushing his dark hair back from his face. "How long you grounded for? You lose your phone privileges, too, or just your allowance?"

"Fuck him," Hayes muttered, plopping down onto the bed next to his teammate.

"Nope. Get up."

Hayes shot him a confused look.

"Clothes off. Your skin's gonna get really warm. You'll be more comfortable this way, trust me."

Before he even realized what he was doing, he was down to his boxers. "What, uh…what are you…"

"First off," he said, reaching for a bottle on the nightstand and shaking it in front of him. "Here's your OC's. I could only get you 60 of them, and baby? These are 15's. You've been using 5's up to this point. I need you to take it the fuck easy with these. Only pop one at a time, understood? Or you will OD."

Hayes nodded as TK set those down, trading them for a small baggie filled with brown powder. He waved it in front of his face as Hayes sat down slowly on the edge of his bed. "You said you wanted to feel nothing, right?"

Hayes nodded, wide-eyed, watching as TK grabbed a lighter and a spoon from the nightstand. "Is that…"

"Yup. And I'll be here with you the whole time, baby. OK? I'm gonna be right here."

"Trav, I don't…nah, I don't think I can…"

TK reached a hand to the side of Hayes's face, smoothing out one of his eyebrows with his thumb. "Look at your eyes. You've been cryin' all night. Don't you wanna stop for a little bit?"

Hayes nodded, shaking, as tears trailed down his cheeks. But this time, they weren't tears of sadness.

Hayes was fucking terrified.

"I'll be right here the whole time," TK repeated, as he set up a needle and a cotton ball on the bed, stuck a straw into a bottle of water, and began prepping the mixture. He mixed it, cooked it, and sucked it up into the needle through a small piece of the cotton, flicking it a few times before setting it onto the bed next to him. "Gimme," he said, reaching for Hayes's arm, which he tied off right above the elbow with a strip of black rubber.

"I'm fuckin' scared, man," Hayes sobbed, as TK found his vein and tapped it a few times to plump it before grabbing the needle.

"This is gonna be the most amazing feeling of your life, baby. I promise. I'm right here, OK? I got you. Ready?"

Hayes nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing as TK poked the needle into his arm and plunged the contents of the syringe into his vein.

Warmth.

Heaviness.

Blissful oblivion.

Relaxation.

Incoherent babbling.

Painlessness.

Pleasure.

"That's it. Just let it consume you, baby. Come here," TK said, turning Hayes's back toward his chest. He pulled off the tourniquet, tossing it aside and wrapping his arms around Hayes's chest, allowing him to collapse against his body. He mumbled something that TK couldn't make out, but he shushed him, running one hand through his hair gently. "Just relax. Don't talk. I got you. All that shit from earlier? Just pretend it isn't real and enjoy the ride."

There wasn't a chance TK was going anywhere.

And as much as he wanted to slip into a state of euphoric bliss right next to Hayes, he didn't, reaching for the bottle of Jack instead and guzzling down about a quarter of it while Hayes repeatedly nodded off and startled himself to against his chest.

Hayes needed him right now.

For once, someone actually needed him.

And TK was gonna be there.

There to keep watch over his friend because he'd missed a flight home to search a California beach for him when the rest of his team had left him for dead.

There to make sure he was safe, that he didn't end up coming to on a bathroom floor next to a trash can full of used condoms and blood running down his legs when someone hadn't been there to do the same for him.

There to make sure his friend felt no pain whatsoever because Tyler Hayes fucking deserved that.

Tyler Hayes deserved everything and TK wanted to be the one who gave it to him.

He'd never felt this way about another human being before. It wasn't sexual; TK wasn't gay. Though Hayes was admittedly beautiful and TK was admittedly curious about what it might feel like to mess around with him a little, it went so far beyond that. He connected with Hayes on a level that he didn't fully comprehend. Hayes had been the only person in as long as he could remember that TK could say with 100 percent certainty actually cared about him.

And that wasn't something TK took lightly.

From here on out, whatever it was that this man wanted, whatever he needed, it was his.

Without even so much as a fucking question.