Chapter Text
Troy hated talking to the media but he knew it was part of being a professional hockey player. He was a man of few words so he kept his answers short and composed, as many hockey players did.
He nervously shifted his weight back and forth waiting for the scrum of reporters to gather around him. A sea of cameras and microphones obscured his vision. He scrubbed a hand over his face, readying himself for the first question.
Three or four reporters had asked him basic questions about the game. The answers came easy, the reporters kept it light.
A Centaurs PR person shouted, “Last question!” Troy was relieved that they would be wrapping up.
What Troy didn’t know is that this last question was about to ruin his week….
A familiar face wormed their way into the group of reports. Troy’s heart sank and he could have sworn it stopped beating for a moment. He held his breath as the interviewer smiled vindictively in his direction, making purposeful eye contact.
It wasn’t just any reporter though. It was Curtis Barrett. Troy’s father. His father he hadn’t spoken to in almost a year.
“Hi Troy, great game. I am wondering when was the last time you called your old man?” It’s been a while, huh Troy?” He started.
“ehh- I uhhhh” Was all Troy managed to get out. There were so many eyes on him. So many cameras. He didn’t know how Curtis even got in here but figured it must have been a surprise organized by the broadcast crew. This would not be the adorable social media moment they were hoping for.
They clearly didn’t know that Troy’s father was his least favorite person on earth.
Troy tried to steady himself with some breaths like Harris had taught him.
In through your nose, out through your mouth
The other reporters smiled up at Troy who was trying so hard to make sure his face remained neutral. He was succeeding for the most part, the only give away being the way his fists were clenched, white knuckled at his sides.
His father continued, “Troy, it’s me Dad? It’s been so long, maybe you have forgotten. I'm the same guy who took you skating for the first time, coached your pee wee team, spent years driving you hours and hours in the car to practices and tournaments.”
Smiles started to fade around the group. Some of the reports exchanged confused looks, surely wondering what was going on. Troy wanted to bolt. He wanted to run as far away from here as he could but with all the people and cameras in his face he just stood, internally panicking.
“I made so many sacrifices for you. So you can be this big star. This is how you repay me?” His dad laughed, but there was nothing funny in it. It echoed too loud in the room, bouncing off cameras and concrete.
Troy swallowed, his throat dry. “This isn’t the place—”
“No, no, this is exactly the place,” Curtis cut in, stepping closer, his press badge swinging. “You love the spotlight, don’t you? Love all these people cheering for you. Thought maybe now you’d finally act like you remember where you came from.”
A murmur rippled through the reporters. One camera dipped slightly.
Troy’s pulse pounded in his ears. “I remember just fine.”
“Do you?” Curtis shot back. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you forgot everything I taught you. Everything I did for you.” He jabbed a finger toward Troy’s chest. “I didn’t raise you to be… this.”
Troy’s jaw tightened. His hands trembled now, barely contained.
A reporter shifted uncomfortably. Another lowered their microphone.
Curtis shook his head, scoffing. “All this fame, all this attention and for what? So you can embarrass me?”
Now the room had gone almost completely still.
Troy felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. “Stop.”
But Curtis didn’t.
“I didn’t raise a son so he could turn into something I don’t even recognize,” he said, quieter now, but somehow worse. “All those years, all that time… wasted.”
That did it.
A camera clicked off.
Then another.
One of the reporters cleared her throat softly. “I think… we’re done here.”
No one argued.
Microphones lowered. Eyes dropped. One by one, they began to step back, the semicircle around Troy dissolving. There was a collective understanding that they were witnessing something they shouldn’t be.
Curtis looked around, almost confused as his audience disappeared.
Troy didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
“I was disappointed in you when you betrayed Dallas and when you were traded to the shittiest team in the league, but you-” He said, wagging a finger an inch from Troy’s face and staring daggers into his soul.
Troy gulped, bracing himself for the rest of what his father was about to say.
“You are the biggest disappointment of them all! My son, the fucking fagg-”
Curtis was interrupted by Troy lunging forward. With two hands Troy pushed him- hard. Sending Curtis stumbling backwards and nearly losing his footing.
A man caught him from behind, steadying him. Curtis looked back, thinking the man was here to help him, back him up
“Security!” the man shouted. It was none other than Ilya Rozanov. It was just then that Troy’s gaze shifted from his father and searched the room. The eyes of almost all his teammates staring back at him. His cheeks flamed from embarrassment. He had almost forgotten where he was.
Ilya was red hot as he held Curtis back and waited for security to rush over and take care of the unwanted guest.
“I think we’ve heard enough from you, asshole!” Ilya spat when Curtis kept yelling. The security team was quick to arrive and carefully removed Curtis from the locker room.
Troy hadn’t paid much attention to his father being escorted out, the reality of what just happened starting to sink in. His eyes were unfocused. Everyone felt far away but he could tell the locker room had become silent. His teammates just stood uncomfortably by their stalls.
Troy was still frozen.
Ilya was suddenly in front of him. He placed a gentle hand on Troy's forearm. He didn’t bother asking if he was okay. That would have been a silly question.
“Come,” he said simply, leading Troy out of the room
Troy blindly followed his friend through the busy hallways to Harris’ office.
Ilya softly closed the door behind them.
Troy just stood in the middle of the room. Numb.
“Barrett- Troy!” He finally heard Ilya shouting his name.
His eyes found Ilya's face and let him know he was listening.
“I’m going to find Harris. You will be okay by yourself for a minute? Yes?”
Troy nodded. Ilya left the room, closing the door gently as he left.
Being alone didn’t change much. Troy was still in shock, breathing heavily, caught in a haze. His eyes were unfocused and wild. No emotion. Just emptiness.
The room felt too quiet.
He tried to steady himself again. Return back to the land of the living.
In through your nose, out through your mouth.
Just like Harris had taught him,
It didn’t work.
Troy stared at nothing, his thoughts sluggish, like he was walking through a cloud.
He wondered what had been the point of Curtis’ stunt.
The cameras. The crowd. The scene.
Was it attention? Sympathy? Curtis Barrett wanted people to feel sorry for him.
Make Troy the villain.
The thought didn’t sting the way it should have. It barely registered at all.
Because right now iIt didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered
Troy didn’t matter.
Troy stood there, unmoving, hollow.
He suddenly remembered Ilya saying something about Harris.
He wanted Harris, no he needed Harris right now.
Troy heard the door open and Harris came barreling through the door.
“Oh my gosh Troy! Come here,” he exclaimed as he engulfed his boyfriend in a warm, crushing hug. It took Troy a second to return the hug but he eventually wrapped his arms around Harris and snuggled his head into his shoulder.
He breathed in Harris’ sweet apple aroma and felt the warmth from his body wrapping around him. He basked in the familiar sound of his boyfriend's voice whispering soothing words into his hair. This is what finally pulled him out of his haze and also what made him finally break down.
He sobbed into Harris’ shoulder. Harris was crying too. They stood into the middle of the office, holding each other for a long time.
Troy’s sobs finally started to slow down a little. Harris pulled back and took in the sight of his boyfriend. He wiped his thumbs over Troy's splotchy face, gently wiping some remaining tears.
“Wow what a mess we are,” he joked with a chuckle. His eyes remained stuck on Troy’s face, examining for any hint to what he was thinking.
“Tell me what you’re thinking buddy,”
Troy just shook his head and shrugged.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m embarrassed, or angry. I don’t know.” Troy answered the best he could. Harris waited patiently for his boyfriend to finish.
“I think maybe I’m still kind of in shock. I can’t believe that just happened.”
“Yeah, me neither…” Harris trailed off anger quickly flashing across his face.
“Well we don’t have to have all the answers now, okay. He’s gone now and he’s never going to be able to get back in here. You are safe now Troy.”
Troy’s eyes closed and he took a deep breath. He tried to let Harris’ words sync in.
I’m safe now
He let Harris pull him into his chest once again.
“Hey babe, your mom keeps calling. Do you want to talk to her or should I tell her you’ll call her later?”
“I’ll talk to her,”
They had moved to the couch in Harris’ office. Troy had his head in Harris’ lap who was gently running his hands through his hair.
Harris hit the speaker button on the phone and held it up in front of Troy.
“Hi honey, I’m so sorry. I- I’m sorry Troy,” his mom cried into the phone. Troy’s eyes welled with tears once again. Harris reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.
Troy wasn’t sure what she was sorry for, maybe for marrying that asshole or maybe she was just sorry about the situation. Either way, she had nothing to be sorry about. She was Curtis Barret’s victim too. The thought made Tory shutter. She has stuck by Troy through everything and did nothing but love and support him.
“I love you mom,” Troy blurted out.
“I love you so much. I’m so proud of you,” she replied. Troy waited for her to speak again, too tired to even form a thought.
“Are you alone?”
“No, Harris is here with me,”
“Oh good, Hi Harris!”
“Hi Ms. B!”
“Take care our our boy for me okay Harris,”
They talked for a few more minutes and Harris resumed his consoling of Troy. He closed his eyes and let Harris card his hands through his hair once again.
A few minus later there was another interruption. Someone knocked at the door.
Harris just wanted to hide Troy away from the world.
Ilya slowly opened the door.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said softly, no mocking in his voice.
“We have to be on the bus to the airport at 10:30.”
Fuck
Troy had completely forgotten that they were flying to Florida right after the game tonight.
“The guys packed up your gear for you. I’ll meet you at the side entrance so we can sneak past reporters. Meet me outside in ten minutes.”
“Okay,” Troy answered with a whine. He didn’t want to face his team, he didn’t want to leave Harris and he definitely didn’t want to face any more reporters any time soon.
“Will be okay Barrett,” Ilya said reassuringly.
“Thank you,” Harris mouthed quietly before Ilya shut the door behind him.