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"Zeev." Tom's voice was strong, and it stuck like thick goo to a wall. Pungent, and simply out there to be seen, or rather felt in this case. He was trotting up the long hallway in rogers arena, quietly bustling in post-game loss action.
Players and trainers were organizing on the canucks' side, muffled sounds could be heard by the guests, and the long corridors carried sound through them. There were weird wet spots everywhere as they walked along the same rubbery, black rink path, simply with distance between them.
It smelled horrible everywhere down where players were, but the players and coaches liked to say it was hard work. None of the canucks could bring themselves to say that with the season they were having this year, and the 4-0 loss to LA just now just proved that.
Zeev turned slowly and rolled his eyes. "Willy. I want to be alone tonight." He spoke firm but Tom could hear he was tired. It wasn't the instincts that came from the countless hours they spent together that let him know, it was just obvious.
"No. You're not going anywhere. Get in my car." Tom said, trying to sound happy, but he just sounded demanding. He quickly walked up to where Zeev was standing and let their arms brush together. "I'm mad too, but that doesn't mean I get to ignore you." He said, walking and letting Zeev synchronize himself.
Zeev stayed quiet. Even if he wasn't looking at him, he could tell what face he was making. Zeev would have dark eyes accentuated by his sunken in eye sockets, and his mouth would be tightened up in discontent. Zeev.
Their walk all the way to Tom's car was quiet. They came to the game together in his car. While he was worried that this wasn't the right move to make, if he hadn't caught Zeev he probably would've caught an uber home with a sicko that would try to exploit Zeev's money. So yes, this was the best option and the right thing to do, Tom assured himself.
And he knew Zeev would come around. Let him come to you, in your own bed, and it'll happen. Whether it was the middle of the night after Tom already fell asleep or right when he hit the mattress, Zeev would follow sometime after. They almost never spent complete nights in different beds. Not even when they were mad at each other or the previous game or the team. It just didn't matter as much as each other.
Tom could only think of this on their way home, and also what he did wrong. What could he and Marcus have done better, if at all? It didn't matter now, he could think of that during practice tomorrow. Right now, only Zeev mattered to him.
They got into Tom's apartment without a mention of how Zeev was more bouncy than usual, how his body was closed off, how he never talked, or how his behaviour was actively torturing Tom.
When Tom let them in, Zeev went for a glass of water and then straight to the washroom. Tom had settled on the bed first in hopes that Zeev would bee-line it there, but that didn't happen.
The bathroom door closed and shut away his hopes with it.
Maybe he shouldn't have messed with Zeev like this in this way. Not with how he said no and stated his feelings. He ignored it completely, and now he was feeling the emotional repercussions of going against his boyfriend's well-expressed needs.
Whatever, if Tom could ignore the mass amounts of pressure that come with hockey, he could ignore his overthinking for a second. He was right any way.
He knocked on the bathroom door. To his surprise, Zeev opened it promptly.
Zeev wouldn't look him in the eyes. He'd stand just inside the doorway with his lips tightened and his eyes watering.
Tom would reach out and pull him into a hug.
His arms wrapped under his shoulders, his right hand going up into his thick curls. Zeev had told him before that he liked being comforted from there, and why would his boyfriend ever forget that?
He could hear hiccupping sobs and feel the tears wet between his neck and shoulder. He listened to Zeev cry, but wouldn't let himself. In a way, it broke his heart to feel him crying in his arms and not be able to do anything about the real cause, the team. But he wouldn't cry, he doesn't, not for hockey.
He refused to cry if his Zeev was. It was more important he be strong for both of them than visibly show his mutual feelings that they were both already aware of. And in itself, Zeev was much less passive about his feelings than Tom.
"I can't ever do anything right." Zeev said between his gasps for air. His arms wrapped themselves tighter around Tom's neck, and he felt better and worse altogether.
Tom shushed him, deciding it would be better to keep holding him a little more before he spoke. His hand kept a firm hold on the back of his head, his thumb stroking back and forth under his hair. He waited before saying "it's okay, you're doing the right things right."
"I'm not." His voice faltered and cracked, and his breathing deepened quickly. Tom could feel his chest heaving after the words.
Tom didn't want to parent Zeev or tell him how things are, because they both knew it. Their team sucked, there was nothing they alone could do to fix it, and no matter how bad they played it would never be the sole result for any of their losses. None now, none previous, and probably none until the end of this season.
Instead, why not focus on what looks positive with the current perspective?
"There's only eleven games left." Tom whispered, relaxing his hand and going back to grip the back of his neck.
He listened as Zeev hummed in acknowledgement and slowed his breathing. He went on. "You're too good of a player to have any slump in this kind of season stop you. This won't stunt you, I'll make sure it doesn't." Though he offered unrealistic protection, it felt necessary. It's not like he really knew what made Zeev feel better, he had to do these things on the fly.
It's been a hundred-four days since Zeev landed with Vancouver, right into Tom's arms. Since then, he's cried like this, for this specific reason, four times—including now. They don't talk about these things after they happen either, it's usually just an understanding between them with no need for any more words to confirm it. Tom knows he's grateful for comforting him, and he knows how important a part it is to play in Zeev's life.
Therefore, Tom has no feedback on whether or not this works, but he still knows it does. He doesn't know specifically what, but he's been guessing and testing.
Zeev seems to settle into his hold. He stopped fiercely pressing into his body and is moreso plastering onto him. His breathing is slowing to normal and his tears are running drier.
"The team's gonna be okay. We have our whole future together." Tom pulled him off and held him just a few inches from his face. He looked into his watery eyes with a kind of loving he didn't know he was capable of.
He loved Zeev so much. He never wanted to play apart from him ever again (not that he actually knew who Zeev was before he got traded). It was the kind of thing, or person rather, that he didn't know he needed in his life. Whenever he was away, there was a longing for him like how droughts required the longing for rain.
Zeev stayed quiet. Tom had a sense it was from his unwillingness to speak. And he understood that feeling, being too tired to even mention anything anyway.
Unprovoked, Zeev leaned forward for a kiss, a soft kiss, pressed right on his lips. "I love you." Zeev murmured with the edge of piano, before pressing to his lips again.
He reciprocated the kiss, mumbling a low "I love you too." He pulled him off and held onto his face. "You're not hurt, are you?" He couldn't help but feel along his cheekbone.
"No." Zeev looked away.
Tom paused, his mind empty for once. The lack of eye contact subtly hinted to him falsity. For a second he wanted to bring that up, but if Zeev said all is okay mentally and physically then there was no more to help with.
"Do you want to sleep together?" Tom flicked his head in the direction of his bed, the sheets pushed aside invitingly. Zeev nodded, looking with solidarity.
Tom got himself ready for bed while Zeev waited for him, sheets pulled up to his chin. How peaceful he looked, (despite the tired look in his usually full eyes,) all snuggled up in the heavy blankets, watching Tom intently and almost with a smile.
Tom grinned seeing him; there was no better sight. He climbed into bed next to Zeev, feeling his thin hands slither up his body quickly. Admittedly ticklish, he giggled a little as they settled into each other, bodies melting into one. It put a smile on Zeev's face.
He made sure to keep hold of the back of Zeev's neck. He wanted only to bring forever comfort to him, no matter the situation. Little did he know, his presence was always enough.
Zeev held onto Tom and snuggled into his neck. They shuffled, still getting comfy before both of their minds were put to rest.
"Goodnight, Tom." Zeev said with a tiny grin.
"Goodnight, Zeev." Tom said, kissing into his mass of dark, curly hair.
All the lights were flicked off in Tom's apartment, the place was silent, and not a single soul could disturb their warm slumber.