The Fitness and Aquatic Center was amazing. In two weeks, Guy knew every inch of it. Guy took the first staircase up and headed over to the track. The track was on the second floor, with the center of it open to the first. Underneath it were a few basketball courts, and roller hockey rink. He stepped over to the railing of the track and looked down. He was right over the hockey rink.
And his eyes landed on the person whom he'd been looking for.
He had gone over to Adam's earlier, checking to see if he was around, to see if he wanted to work on some homework. Adam could always explain it better than the teachers.
However, Nick let him know that Adam had left for the FAC, as that was the nickname for the center.
Guy followed him with his eyes as he did laps around the rink. He was acutely aware of the brace on his right wrist, and the hockey stick in his left. He never noticed when he was working with him, but it looked weird. Adam Banks was just not a lefty.
He watched, with the precision of a cat watching his prey. He could even see the winces of pain when Adam would take a shot, or just try to handle the puck. He could hold the stick fine, but when it came down to using it, he couldn't do it.
Guy sucked in his air quick, as he watched the next scene unfold. Adam put the stick in his right wrist, and pushed the puck around. It was amazing, Adam was playing as if his injury never happened. But only, if you were watching the stick and puck.
He wasn't watching that. He was watching the tears of pain fall down as Adam's face crumbled in anguish.
Adam wiped at his face with a sweaty sleeve, and Guy wondered how long had Adam been here. From the drenched shirt, it could've been hours.
Adam gave up, throwing his stick across the rink and skating furiously to the side. He let himself stop by the presence of the wall, and then kicked it in frustration.
Guy didn't know what to do.
If Adam had wanted him to know about this, he would have told him. But he obviously wanted it kept quiet.
He tossed around the idea of casually bumping into him, but then when he realized he barely looked like he'd been working out; hell, he was in khaki pants and a sweater, he knew it wouldn't fly.
Instead, he just opted for keeping an eye on him, making sure he got back to the dorms safely.
"Oh, hey Adam," Dave looked up from his schoolwork at the kitchen table, when he heard the door open, "Guy stopped by earlier. Did he find you?"
"No, he didn't. Did he say what he wanted?" Adam dropped his stuff on one of the couches, and walked to the fridge. He grabbed a bottle of water, downing it quickly.
"Something about studying, Nick told him you were at the FAC."
Adam crushed the now empty bottle. And if it had been Guy watching, he would've noticed it was with his left hand. Adam's right hand stayed curled to his body.
"Well, I'll see him in the morning. I'm going to bed, goodnight Dave," Adam said, fatigue evident in his voice. He tossed the crushed plastic into the recycle bin.
"'Night Adam."
Adam smiled faintly. He was acutely aware that the last time anyone had called him Banks was weeks ago, when he last spoke to Dwayne. He liked being called Adam, however, he missed his old teammates.
Adam had just settled down in his bed, the pain beginning to subside after he took some medication, when someone knocked on his door.
He mumbled a "come in," and he heard the clicking of the opening door.
"You awake?" Guy whispered.
"When did you get here?"
"Just a few minutes ago, I was talking to Dave."
"Oh," Adam rolled over, leaving space for Guy to sit.
He complied, and ran a soft hand down Adam's bare arm.
"Guy? Can I tell you something?" Adam's face was laying on it's side, and his cheek was crushed up into his mouth.
"You can tell me anything baby," Guy whispered, blinking his eyes tiredly.
"I don't want to play hockey anymore."
"But you already don't."
"Just ..." Adam said, his voice strong, "I don't want to play it, or watch it, or feel it."
"You sure?"
Adam was silent.
"No."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't."
"Can't what baby?" Guy continued his soothing motions up and down Adam's arm.
"I can't play it or feel it. I only feel pain. I hate it. Ihateitihateitihateit," he mumbled, obviously half-asleep.
Guy stopped, and leaned down to kiss Adam's bare skin, "It's alright to feel that way."
Adam's lips trembled in the dark, and Guy put a lone finger up to bring them to rest. He pulled Guy down to him, "Just, stay with me tonight."
Adam had seen Guy up on the track, watching him. He didn't know how long he'd been there, but he knew he saw it when he kicked the wall. And he knew Guy followed him home. But it was alright. It was less explaining he'd have to do, because Guy already knew.
And as Guy wrapped his arms around Adam, he thought back to when he first saw Guy, at dinner that night. And yea, Adam smiled to himself, it did feel different.
And his eyes landed on the person whom he'd been looking for.
He had gone over to Adam's earlier, checking to see if he was around, to see if he wanted to work on some homework. Adam could always explain it better than the teachers.
However, Nick let him know that Adam had left for the FAC, as that was the nickname for the center.
Guy followed him with his eyes as he did laps around the rink. He was acutely aware of the brace on his right wrist, and the hockey stick in his left. He never noticed when he was working with him, but it looked weird. Adam Banks was just not a lefty.
He watched, with the precision of a cat watching his prey. He could even see the winces of pain when Adam would take a shot, or just try to handle the puck. He could hold the stick fine, but when it came down to using it, he couldn't do it.
Guy sucked in his air quick, as he watched the next scene unfold. Adam put the stick in his right wrist, and pushed the puck around. It was amazing, Adam was playing as if his injury never happened. But only, if you were watching the stick and puck.
He wasn't watching that. He was watching the tears of pain fall down as Adam's face crumbled in anguish.
Adam wiped at his face with a sweaty sleeve, and Guy wondered how long had Adam been here. From the drenched shirt, it could've been hours.
Adam gave up, throwing his stick across the rink and skating furiously to the side. He let himself stop by the presence of the wall, and then kicked it in frustration.
Guy didn't know what to do.
If Adam had wanted him to know about this, he would have told him. But he obviously wanted it kept quiet.
He tossed around the idea of casually bumping into him, but then when he realized he barely looked like he'd been working out; hell, he was in khaki pants and a sweater, he knew it wouldn't fly.
Instead, he just opted for keeping an eye on him, making sure he got back to the dorms safely.
"Oh, hey Adam," Dave looked up from his schoolwork at the kitchen table, when he heard the door open, "Guy stopped by earlier. Did he find you?"
"No, he didn't. Did he say what he wanted?" Adam dropped his stuff on one of the couches, and walked to the fridge. He grabbed a bottle of water, downing it quickly.
"Something about studying, Nick told him you were at the FAC."
Adam crushed the now empty bottle. And if it had been Guy watching, he would've noticed it was with his left hand. Adam's right hand stayed curled to his body.
"Well, I'll see him in the morning. I'm going to bed, goodnight Dave," Adam said, fatigue evident in his voice. He tossed the crushed plastic into the recycle bin.
"'Night Adam."
Adam smiled faintly. He was acutely aware that the last time anyone had called him Banks was weeks ago, when he last spoke to Dwayne. He liked being called Adam, however, he missed his old teammates.
Adam had just settled down in his bed, the pain beginning to subside after he took some medication, when someone knocked on his door.
He mumbled a "come in," and he heard the clicking of the opening door.
"You awake?" Guy whispered.
"When did you get here?"
"Just a few minutes ago, I was talking to Dave."
"Oh," Adam rolled over, leaving space for Guy to sit.
He complied, and ran a soft hand down Adam's bare arm.
"Guy? Can I tell you something?" Adam's face was laying on it's side, and his cheek was crushed up into his mouth.
"You can tell me anything baby," Guy whispered, blinking his eyes tiredly.
"I don't want to play hockey anymore."
"But you already don't."
"Just ..." Adam said, his voice strong, "I don't want to play it, or watch it, or feel it."
"You sure?"
Adam was silent.
"No."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't."
"Can't what baby?" Guy continued his soothing motions up and down Adam's arm.
"I can't play it or feel it. I only feel pain. I hate it. Ihateitihateitihateit," he mumbled, obviously half-asleep.
Guy stopped, and leaned down to kiss Adam's bare skin, "It's alright to feel that way."
Adam's lips trembled in the dark, and Guy put a lone finger up to bring them to rest. He pulled Guy down to him, "Just, stay with me tonight."
Adam had seen Guy up on the track, watching him. He didn't know how long he'd been there, but he knew he saw it when he kicked the wall. And he knew Guy followed him home. But it was alright. It was less explaining he'd have to do, because Guy already knew.
And as Guy wrapped his arms around Adam, he thought back to when he first saw Guy, at dinner that night. And yea, Adam smiled to himself, it did feel different.