Chapter Text
And what if I were to lie? Tell you everything is fine
Every single fucking day I get closer to the grave
I am terrified, I fell asleep at the wheel again
Crashed my car just to feel again
It obliterates me, disintegrates me, annihilates me
- Popular Monster, Falling In Reverse
Monday, 8th 20XX
Dalinar Kholin’s office
Adolin
“You can’t be serious,” Adolin glared at Dalinar, annoyance filling him with how his own father didn’t even give him the decency to look at him.
“This isn’t up for discussion, Adolin. It’s already done; he starts training once the medics clear him.”
He’s too busy writing on whatever he’s working on, and Adolin just grits his teeth, slamming a hand on the piece of paper. “Father!” He stands, his right knee pulsing with a dull ache.
Dalinar slowly looks up to him, and he hates how there’s nothing in his father’s face to give away what he’s thinking.
“Adolin,” he warns.
“You can’t do this. Do you have any idea what this’ll do to the team?” He sounds desperate, but he needs his father to understand how much of a mistake he’s making.
“I understand plenty,” voice even. Dalinar stares intently at him. “I understand how much of a waste it is to let a player like him go. He’s valuable. One of the best.”
Adolin scoffs, a bit offended. “You already have valuable members. We know what we're doing, we trust each other to have our backs. Don’t you trust us?” He can’t help the way his lip twitches into a sneer. “Don’t trust me?”
Sighing like he’s dealing with an unruly child—which might not be wrong—Dalinar leans back in the chair, fingers massaging his temple. “I trust you and the team plenty, son—”
“It really looks like it.”
“But I need new blood. I need new skills if we have any chance of getting anywhere.”
He gets it. He really does, but why did it have to be him, of all people? The anger bubbles within him. “We still have time! Our team is solid; you bring in new players now it’s going to shake the dynamic we have going on.”
Dalinar is just sighing and shaking his head, in a way Adolin knows his claims are getting dismissed. “No, Adolin. It’s happening whether you like it or not.”
Snarling, he shouts, "You're buying a player who plays dirty! “You've seen how plays; how can you trust him?!” Rage clouds his judgment.
“Ive already spoken Adolin” his fathers voice is firm and unyielding. “I won't keep repeating myself.”
"I don't want to be in a team with someone who got his own brother killed!" he shouts.
The only sound in the quiet room is his harsh breathing.
His thoughts drift to Renarin. He doesn’t understand how someone you call family can be the reason you’re dead. Shocked silence hangs between them before, but Adolin isn’t finished. “Do you have-“
“Enough!” Dalinar slams a hand on the desk as he stands up, getting cut off as his father’s voice ricochets around the room.
Looking at his eyes, Adolin can see the fire burning, the way they never blink, and he finds himself flinching. His right leg finally gives out, and he hits the soft seat.
“I don’t want to hear anymore, Adolin; he’s in your team and you treat him like you would any of your teammates.” Dalinar doesn’t relent, and Adolin refuses to say anything.
Because what's the point?
They’re at a standstill, both refusing to yield. But it’s not until Adolin relents that he knows he can’t change his father’s mind. He turns, not wanting to even look at Dalinar right now, and stalks out with a limp.
But before he can leave, his father calls for him. Against his better judgment, Adolin turns to look, but he doesn't really look at his father. He doesn't see the tense way he holds himself. Nor see the dark shadows under his eyes. Adolin is too busy seething in his anger to care enough at the moment.
He loves his father, but he also hates him. He frustrates Adolin like there’s no tomorrow.
“You should know by now, son, that you can never trust what the media says,” his voice was soft, his eyes searching Adolin for something he didn’t care to find out.
He scoffs under his breath and walks out.
Like hell he’s going to let a Rat like that ruin his team.
Adolin continued to walk away. He knows, theoretically, they do need more players. A few of them, including himself, have been out for most of the back end of the season and they suffered for it. But are they really that desperate enough to resort to getting rats to play with them?
It frustrates him; how can his father be so blind?
Where is the honor in people like Sehara? Adolin knows how players like that function; he’s seen the way Sehara plays: he’s gone up against the storming man. Going out of his way to play dirty, targeting others with nasty shots. Like hell Adolin is going to let him think he can do what he wants, not in his team.
Adolin knows, and he’s not stupid. If his father is so adamant that the Rat is going to play for them, then Adolin needs to step up his game.
He needs to hurry up and get cleared by the medics so he can get back on the ice. He’s been out of practice for too long; it’s making him restless.
He finds himself standing in the entrance, facing the ice rink. From this high up, the players skating around are like ants; it’s a dramatic thought, but it is true. Hobbling down, Adolin takes comfort in the sounds of the blades slicing through the ice; it is like music to his ears.
The cold bites into his cheeks, and he welcomes it.
“Storming Sehara.” He stomps down the steps carefully, his right knee protesting at the harsh treatment, but in his anger and frustration, he pushes it away. Adolin barely casts a glance at the players on the ice once he gets to the bottom as he heads towards his appointment with ATCs and then a session with the PT team. Suffice to say he’s got a busy and exhausting day ahead of him, and hearing about that storming Rat hasn’t helped. He can’t remember the last time they skated against each other. Adolin wants to say it was over a year ago, or maybe even before that. He hasn’t been on the ice for a good nine months. Fracturing his knee a couple of weeks before the season finished hit him harder than he had liked, especially when they were so close to getting the Stanley Cup.
Drinking away his misery wasn’t as fun as it sounded, thinking back on it, especially when mixing it with his medication. He’d be lying if he didn’t say it made him feel something. It made him forget about the misery, the pain, and the shame.
Shame at costing them the cup.
Logically, he knows he's not really the reason, but still, it is hard for him to think otherwise. Adolin knows he would have kept drowning if Renarin hadn't dragged his arse to his place, refusing to let him leave to go back to his empty apartment. Adolin was just glad his brother was there when he accidentally took too much of his pain medication and downed a whole bottle of violet.
Glad but also ashamed. What kind of brother puts his own sibling through that?
Adolin, as it turns out.
It’s not a pleasant memory, but he can’t help but think back on it. Raking a hand through his hair, Adolin sighs. He slows his steps as he walks further into the arena. He knows he should forget it – no, not forget. He can’t forget it; if anything, he needs to not repeat it. I need to grow from it.
He’s trying. Storms, he wants to be better than that; it’s not how his mother would have liked to have seen him. And that itself makes his chest grow tight.
He misses her. Misses the way she smiled so easily, how her eyes shone when she laughed. How she was so encouraging. How easily she loved.
Eyes cast down, Adolin lets his feet carry him, unaware of the familiar surroundings. It doesn't take him long to get to the medical area, but it takes a moment for him to realise that there is someone else there.
Now that, in itself, isn’t unusual. What is unusual are the voices. Stopping in the hallway, he cast a glance towards the doors down the four-roomed corridor. There, one of the doors is slightly ajar.
“Listen, kid,” that’s definitely Teft. He’d recognise that gravelly voice anywhere. It’s the second voice that makes him frown.
“I’m not a kid,” he – and he knows it’s definitely him. The huskiness is a dead giveaway, his voice sending a shiver down Adolin’s spine.
“You’re barely 25. You’re still a kid to me,” Teft chuckles.
There’s a grumble, “I’m still old enough. But, that’s the point. Like I said, if something happens, won’t it be best to have someone else know?” Adolin finds himself turning towards the sound. There’s something about that voice that makes him pause; he doesn’t think he’s heard them before. It’s definitely not someone from his team.
“The team does know of it.”
He steps down the corridor. There's a part of him that knows he shouldn't be doing this, but well, he is technically supposed to be here. Sure, he should have waited until a medic came to get him, but well, Adolin can't bring himself to care right now.
He just wants to know that voice.
“Do the episodes have anything to do with his autism?
you think
Adolin hears the older man sigh heavily. “look-”
“I’ve dealt with people who’re autistic, Teft.”
“Kaladin–”
Dread hits him so suddenly he has to put his hand on the wall to steady himself.
Kaladin Sehara. Of course, it's him. His father said he needed to get cleared by medics, but he didn't think it would be today of all days.
Autistic
Wait, what? Autistic? Adolin thinks in confusion before realisation dawns on him. Fist clenching, Adolin strides to the half-open door, pushing it open with an air of casualness. Adolin sees the bewildered and startled look on Sehara's face before it's instantly gone, replaced with a stone wall.
“What? Kholin!” Teft barks. “What in damnation are you doing here?” Adolin cast him a quick glance, seeing the older man's brows furrow in annoyance.
“What? Can’t I say hi to the newbie?” he growls with a sharp smile. He sees the way Sehara tenses up instantly, hands clutching his shirt.
“Not now, Kholin,” Teft barks back, but Adolin ignores him, eyeing Sehara like he’s prey.
“Newbie doesn’t know the rules, Teft, as captain it’s my duty to tell him, is it not?” Adolin steps forward. Towards the Alethi man, ignoring the warning look Teft gives him, Sehara stands up slowly, eyes boring into Adolin.
He's tall. He thinks absently.
Adolin’s blue eyes locked into those intense, oddly coloured ones, blue and brown. “General rule of thumb around here, kid.” Sehara’s eyes twitched at that. “Your team is your family. You don’t hurt your family,” Adolin said pointedly, with a slight edge to his voice.
Sehara’s shoulders grew more rigid, if that was even possible. Adolin was expecting him to look away, but he was plenty surprised by how he didn’t back down.
Good. Adolin likes a challenge.
“You do best to keep that in mind,” he gestures with his hand as he gets into the younger man’s space. Although Adolin is older than him, Sehara still has an inch or two on him. He’s leaner than Adolin’s bulkier frame, but with the muscle lining under Sehara’s skin, there are a few scars littering his body, he notes. Adolin knows he’s no slouch when it comes to physique.
“And secondly.” His finger rams straight into his chest, right between his pecs. “Keep my brother's name out of that storming mouth of yours.” He snarls, his voice sharp.
Sehara narrows his eyes at him, his mouth growing tight. It pulls at the faint scar that runs down his face.
“I don’t want to even hear you utter his name. It’s bad enough you have to be around my team. My family. They’re my responsibility to make sure they’re safe,” his voice lowered as he growled.
“Even if that’s from the likes of you,” he sneers.
They stand there in utter silence for a moment. Eyes never looking away. “Understood?”
“Kholin—“ Teft starts, voice hard, but Adolin sees how Kaladin shifts himself as if he’s waiting for a blow.
There’s a long moment before he speaks.
“I understand. I understand you’re an arsehole,” he rumbles, and Adolin is taken aback for a moment before the anger rears its ugly head again.
“Listen here, you little Rat!” Squaring up to the other, he bared his teeth in a sneer. But there was a hand on his chest, pushing him away.
“Almighty, will you two knock it off!” Despite Teft’s age, he still has muscle packed on his frame like he used to have when he was an active player, and Adolin can feel the strength when he's pushed back.
“I’m not getting spoken to by someone like him!” Adolin bellows.
Sehara just cocks his head regarding Adolin. “Someone like me, eh?”
“Yes, a player who can’t get his act together. Acts like he’s some sort of herald who can do what the fuck he wants.”
There's a low chuckle. “That’s a bit rich coming from you, princeling,” Sehara drawls, arms tight across his chest, pushing his pecs together. And it’s then that Adolin sees the light catch off the bars implanted into each perked nipple.
“From me?!” Adolin squawks in offense, trying to push past Teft. He is successful after a moment and rounds on Sehara.
“Adolin Kholin, sweetheart of the Knights. He's such an amazing person, always so welcoming." Seharas’ voice went high as he mocked the headliners in the news.
"Always so caring for his team," Sehara's eyes grow hard and there's a shift in his tone that makes Adolin grow rigid.
“How many bars did you frequent? Or how many times did you get photographed with another person’s tongue down your throat within the same night? Raising a brow, he continues, “It seems every time your name is in the news, it’s another one of your ‘adventures’. I thought a captain was supposed to be more respectful, more Honourable.”
Son of a bitch
Adolin sees red and lunges. But there is an arm around him and his name being called. He cannot pay attention; he needs to wipe that look off the other’s face.
“I’ll show you respect, you bastard!” he gets yanked and pushed back. Adolin stumbles, but he’s coming for Sehara again.
His anger burns, because how dare he, how dare someone like him tell Adolin how he should and shouldn’t be. He knows nothing of Adolin. He doesn’t know the pressure that sits on his shoulder, nor the ghosts that follow him.
“Adolin!” There’s a hand on his shoulder that pulls him back, and he turns around a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue. But it instantly dies when he sees Renarin, his younger brother staring up at him with wide eyes.
Adolin breathes, seeing that gaze. It makes him feel hollow. His shoulders shake, but he pushes it down, trying to calm himself, when he feels anything but calm. He’s supposed to be the captain; he’s not supposed to be like this, like some hot-headed newbie.
Not anymore.
So he takes a calming breath even though he feels nothing of the sort and stands straighter. Teft is looking at him with a look of disappointment that Adolin has become accustomed to, but it’s the way Sehara is that draws his attention.
The younger man has his arms on his chest still, knuckles white from how tightly they’re squeezed. The look in his eyes still has that intensity, but there’s a wariness to it now, a hint of vacancy to it.
Adolin scoffs, turning around to walk out. “Make sure you follow the rules, Sehara,” with that he leaves, Renarin following him.