Disclaimer: I don't own the Mighty Ducks and related characters.

Author's Note: Warning- there will be implications of slash. And I am fully aware that some minor details such as the color of Linda's eyes may be incorrect.

:: Alike ::

I watch as you paced back and forth nervously wondering how to do what you were planning on doing. You won't stop talking or moving. I wonder where you could summon the energy to do that even after a particularly grueling practice. I am so exhausted I can barely keep the energy to stay seated on the bed. I am ready to fall into an ungraceful heap and pass out.

But you keep moving, wringing your wrists, angry in bursts, calming with apprehension. You are ready to move on, without Linda, whom you have been going out with for the past six months. It is a ridiculously long time, for me anyway, but it doesn't seem so long. Where does all the time go anyway? It seems like only yesterday when I entered that locker room and the only extended hand, the only pair of warm eyes, were yours.

You rake a hand through your unruly brown hair.

"What am I going to do?" you say. I have no answer for you. Unlike you, I have never had a girlfriend before. Unlike you, I have no head of curls and unlike you they are not the color of chocolate. Unlike you, I don't exude warmth and friendliness.

I say that I will be here for you, if things don't go too well. But even to me, my words sound wooden and fake. I understand each girl more than the last and I understand how Linda would feel. She would feel the world seemingly wrench from its axis and wobble uncertainly just enough so that only she could feel its insecurity.

You sit down and frown, pursing your lips together. I saw this coming from a mile ahead but you hadn't. You kept barreling forward in this relationship, taking it a minute at a time. If you took one second to even consider how different you and Linda were…

Opposites attract. Everyone says that, whoever they are. But maybe, deep down it all, we look for people that are similar to us, not different. Maybe that's why you give up on Linda; maybe that's why you finally understand that you don't want to be with her anymore. But instead of instilling hope, it only further tells me that your next choice will be light years away from who Linda is…and who I am.

You noticed. You noticed ever since you started going out with her. You kept saying, "Were you guys separated at birth? You guys even look alike." And we do. Linda has the same fine hair that is neither brown nor blonde that falls as straight as a pin. We both have the large, gray eyes that are clouded with confusion, doubt, and apprehension. She has the same work ethic as I do. I should know; we are in the same honors classes. We can only concentrate fully on one thing in our lives, Linda on human equality, me on hockey.

And we both like you. I like you. I always have and I always will. But sitting here listening to you debate on how you are going to walk away from the girl that is the female equivalent of me, I can only wonder who the next girl you'll choose will be like.

Will she have long, chestnut hair that hangs heavy with curls? Will she have a loud laugh that carries across the room? Will she have more friends than she can count, her worn address book nearly bursting with extra pages that she had to add to keep track of everyone? Will she dance instead of walk? What will she be like? Who will you choose next?

I can only imagine as I will know in time. But I'm starting to understand, understand that maybe we find people like ourselves for stability, for solidity.

When I run into Linda in the middle of the quad, her eyes are all red and her shoulders seemed hunched. Her arms are full of textbooks like my own. I understand how she feels too well. Maybe that is why she answers when I ask her how she is feeling. Maybe that is why, for once, we regard each other with civil eyes. Maybe that is why neither she nor I feel anything, even as I reach for her hand and she reaches up to pull me down to kiss her. Maybe that is why I don't feel anything when I realize this is the first time I have ever kissed a girl.

And maybe that is why when she and I both see you, standing at the edge of the quad looking at us with an expression I have never seen before, hurt, confused, betrayed, and shocked, I know she is satisfied as well.

:: End ::