Sixteen

SIXTEEN

FELTON

This room is really quiet. I miss the sweet melodies of my wind chimes; yet, I don't want to go home. It's comfortable here and I'm not alone.

More importantly, Ren doesn't look at me like I'm a fuckup. I'm pretty sure I see concern on his face.

He tucks me back into bed after I eat. Literally tucks me in. I'm not sure anyone has ever tucked me in. Ren pushes the edges of the blanket all around my body, cocooning me into them. It's almost like having arms around me.

I didn't realize I've been craving that kind of comfort, but I'm suddenly starved for affection. Not that I say this. I don't want to push it. Ren is being super kind and accommodating. I'm not sure I've earned this much kindness. Not just from Ren, but from anyone.

The house is silent. I don't even hear him moving around once I'm laying down. I'm not always a fan of that much silence because it means that the voices in my head can get really loud and consuming. That's what the wind chimes are for. Their soft, soothing melody overrides the noise.

Except that I'm not alone right now. Ren sits on the edge of the bed, his fingers moving through my hair as I slowly drift off to sleep. There are questions on the tip of my tongue.

Why are you being so nice to me?

Can you tell me how to behave so I don't fuck up so much that you'll give up on me?

Will you cuddle me again?

Words don't leave me, though. I'm not sure whether I'm too afraid to say them or too tired. Maybe both. Between physical exhaustion of being fucked so thoroughly, then travel; mental exhaustion leading up to and then dealing with my father, the sleepless night filled with travel again… it's not long before I'm fast asleep once more.

I dream. We're dancing, but the movement is too smooth to be on our feet. As if I'm watching myself through a camera, it pans out and I can see that we're on the ice. That's why there's such fluid gliding in our movements.

There's a combination of wind chimes and instruments, lending us a background of hypnotic notes that our feet move to. I look serene. Happy.

I'm alone and yet it feels like there's someone there with me. There's a distinct ‘we' presence, but visually, I'm alone. My stance, the way I move and how my arms are holding air, suggests that I definitely have a partner. Though I can't see anything but a shadow of their feet moving with mine.

It's not an unpleasant dream. In fact, it's one of the most comforting dreams I've had in a long time. If ever.

When I wake up next, there are remnants of the dream hanging around. I can hear the gentle tune whispering in my ears. The soft touch of the air moving against me as I fly across the ice. It fades as I gain more conscious thought until the only thing that remains is the gentle touch on my cheeks.

Opening my eyes, I find Ren sitting there watching me. His fingers move over my cheekbone. I'm not sure if he moved at all while I slept. Maybe I only slept for a minute. Maybe I didn't sleep at all.

"Hi," I whisper.

He smiles and drops his hand.

"I really want to let you sleep, but I also want to give you time to shower and get ready for the game. We have to stop at your house for your gear too."

I realize I'm still in the clothes I'd flown in and immediately feel gross.

"Want to shower here or we can head to your place?" Ren asks.

It's a toss up. I definitely want to get the feeling from traveling off of me. To wash away everything from yesterday. But if I shower here, that means I have to put on these same clothes again.

It's that which wins out.

"Home," I declare and glance at my shirt. "Dirty clothes."

Ren nods. "Whenever you're ready. No rush."

I sit up and watch Ren leave the room. There should be more people in the world like Ren. Those who are willing to help, even when you come to them as an absolute train wreck. I don't even dare look at myself in the mirror, afraid of what I'll see.

Yet he doesn't look at me with disgust. There's only ever softness there. Concern.

After taking a piss, I find my way to the front door and look around for my shoes.

"You weren't wearing any," Ren tells me.

I flinch. Ugh. Fuck, I must truly have looked like a wreck!

"Sorry," I say for maybe the dozenth time.

"Don't be. I'm just glad you didn't drive."

I follow him out, and Ren opens the car door for me. The gesture makes me flush and I fold into his car. The trunk opens, and he tosses his bag in before climbing in behind the wheel.

"I was a mess, wasn't I?" I ask.

Ren smiles. "You were not in a good place."

"That's a nice way of saying I had an excuse to look like shit."

He chuckles.

His presence is quiet, and yet it fills the space. Like I can feel him surrounding me. It's a comfort. As I glance at him, I wonder when this fond feeling started for him. He glances at me and smiles, making my stomach flutter.

Oh, no. It's not just fondness.

I think I'm crushing on my teammate! That's not at all cool.

Chewing the inside of my lip, I try to ignore the feeling. But now that I've acknowledged it, it's waving all kinds of flags at me. I swear, there's this obsessive blushing girl inside me giggling as she takes peeks at Ren from the corner of my eye.

This is going to be a long night.

I'm thankful for the short drive and invite Ren inside while I shower and get ready for the game. After grudgingly tossing my phone on the charger, I strip from my clothes on the way to the bathroom. While I don't intend to take long, I spend some extra time scrubbing yesterday off me. Not just the travel, but the hours before that.

Many times, I'd tried the exercise of imagining that I'm washing my dad's words down the drain. Watch them slip away where they can't hurt me. But that mental exercise doesn't work for me. It's not even a short reprieve. I just feel foolish when I'm done.

When I'm out, I stand in my closet and stare at my collection of suits. What color is Ren wearing? Maybe I could wear something complimentary. Do I even know how to do that? It would make dressing easier if I could do that. But not only do I not remember what color Ren's wearing, but I now just stare at my line of suits. Lost. Frozen. Have I always had so many to choose from? I think my collection keeps growing.

"Felton?"

I jolt out of my thoughts and turn to find Ren standing in the door of my bedroom.

"You okay?"

Choose a suit for me!

Wait—I'm not helpless. I'm an adult.

So I don't say that out loud. No matter how much I want him to make the choice for me. Instead, I just nod.

However, I think Ren sees through me now. He steps into my bedroom and joins me just inside my closet. "How about the charcoal one?" he asks.

Sighing, I nod. Something as simple as that has the power to take a lot of weight from my shoulders. I still feel much lighter once I slip into it, even though suits are restricting. Then I'm following my crush—I mean Ren—to the front door.

Once outside, I hesitate, looking between the two vehicles. There's no reason I can't drive. I feel fine now, relatively speaking. I'm not falling apart, at any rate.

"Get in," Ren tells me, holding open the passenger side door of his car.

The weight of that decision releases, and I smile a little. It seems like such a silly thing, but I don't want to have to even think about something like which car to drive. Which pair of underwear am I supposed to wear? Should I stop to fill the tank now or later if I take my car?

They're little things, but with the stress of dealing with my family, those tiny, almost minuscule decisions feel like boulders.

The ride to the arena is quiet. Ren doesn't try to fill the silence, for which I'm grateful. My skin feels… awkward on my muscles right now. I'm so very aware of how close he is. Which is weird because it's never felt so obvious before.

Not even when he stepped into my closet while I was just in my underwear. Or when he watched me get fucked by his friends. Not even when I practically mauled him after I showed up last night out of the blue having a mental breakdown.

But right now, in the car when he's sitting just a foot away? My fingers itch to feel his hand on mine. Which is ridiculous because he's never held my hand before.

I'm just lonely. That's the issue. That's all this is about. No one has shown me kindness quite like this before. People are nice. I've never had anyone be truly mean to me. And I do have friends.

But this is just… different.

So I don't keep creepily sneaking peeks at his profile—which I now realize is really refined and beautiful—I stare out the window as the street goes by. It's late November so there aren't many people walking around. But there are still those braving the outdoors as the temperature drops.

We pull in and a few of our teammates are making their way to the door. Ren shuts off his car, but doesn't move to open the door. I sit still and wait for him.

When he doesn't say anything, I risk a look in his direction. He's watching me and for some reason, my cheeks heat.

"I feel like this is one of those questions that gets asked a lot, but I really need to know—are you okay? Are you going to be able to play?" Ren asks.

That's a good question, but there's really only one answer. "I need to be."

He nods. "I know. And I know you're able to shove everything difficult aside and focus on hockey."

"You know that, huh?" I ask, skeptically.

Ren smiles. "I do. You have for a very long time, Fel. I'm confident you can do it again. I'm not saying that's healthy and you should do that more than necessary. But pro sports don't wait for anyone."

I sigh. "They don't. I'll be fine."

His hand lands on mine, and my heart nearly leaps out of my body. His skin is so warm. "I'm right here. Whenever you feel unbalanced, just look at me and remind yourself that I'm right here. No one is going to touch you. Nothing will touch you. Tonight is just you, me, our team, and hockey. Nothing else exists right now. Understand?"

What I appreciate more than the gesture is his words. His tone. It's always the calm, soothing lilt of his voice, but he's not giving me an option. The last question wasn't ‘can you do that?' He told me what to do, clearly, and made sure I understood what's expected of me.

I'm not sure why, but there's something deep inside me that unravels. It encompasses me, ready to swallow up everything that shouldn't exist right now. Just me, Ren, our team, and hockey. No one else. That's all I have the capacity to think about.

I nod. "Yes," I answer. And when I step out of the car, everything else is shed behind me. Like a snake skin.

Okay, maybe like a turtle shell. I'm going to end up with it back on my shoulders. Unlike a snakeskin that's been outgrown. Still, it's something. "Yes," I murmur to myself as I walk around the car to fall into step beside him.

In this way, I move forward. Not as a new person, but maybe on a new plane. A temporary one, but still a new one. When I finally step onto the ice, I feel slightly unbalanced, but when I look at Ren, I'm steady again.

I find that on this new plane where only the parameters that Ren set in place who exists, I can enjoy hockey again. I can lose myself in it. Even when I let in two goals, I don't come down on myself knowing that someone is out there who will be angry with me. Someone who will criticize everything about me and the way I played.

It's just us. Just hockey. And in those moments, I not only find my love for hockey again, I might have found that some of that love has shifted to Ren Ho. It might be a new development, but for some reason, it feels like that love has belonged to him all along.