Disclaimer: Don't know them, don't own them, don't sue me
Summary: Charlie and Adam are toughing it out at University of Michigan, playing Division 1 hockey and trying to handle the pressure. Sooner or later, someone's nerve has to give…
Warnings: cutting, abuse (later chapters)
DON'T LET IT HURT
He couldn't believe this was happening. Couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. No no no…but the pain in his wrist was all too familiar and all too real. Sharp, searing, throbbing, the cry threatening to tear from his throat. Tears stung the backs of his eyelids and he had to fight them down, push them back, because he had to hold something back from the crowd, from his teammates. Pain was irrelevant at this level. Division I hockey didn't care if your wrist was sprained, or broken even. As long as you could skate, you played.
It was late when Charlie Conway heard the door to the dorm open and close quietly. In the darkness, he could just make out Adam Banks' tall form making its way across the room to his bed. Something was wrong. Charlie couldn't put his finger on it, but something was wrong.
"Adam?" He turned over on his side, facing the room.
"Didn't mean to wake you up," came the reply.
"Why're you so late?"
"I…had some things to do at the arena."
"Like what?"
"Stuff." Charlie bellowed out a sigh and reached up to turn on the reading light above his head. The warm light bathed the room in a soft glow, and the first thing he saw was his best friend hastily wiping tears from his face.
"Adam, what's wrong?" He threw back the covers and got up.
"Nothing," Adam replied as Charlie approached him, "I'm fine." Charlie rolled his eyes.
"That's why your eyes are red and—" He cut himself off, seeing the bandage wrapped around Adam's wrist, "What happened?" Adam leaned his head back and gazed at the ceiling.
"That check I took in the second period. It jammed my wrist the wrong way," he answered. When Charlie gently grasped his forearm and undid the bandage, Adam didn't protest. It'd always been like this, he reflected, from peewees to high school. Charlie was the captain, the leader, who always looked out for everyone, and particularly, it seemed, Adam. Their friendship had gone through difficult times, but in the end, Charlie could never stand to wound Adam any further, and Adam couldn't forget the caring Charlie always seemed to have for him.
"Ah…" Adam's face twisted in a grimace as Charlie gently bent his wrist downward.
"You should see a doctor," Charlie said, rewrapping the bandage with care.
"What's the point? They'll just tell me I have to sit, which you know I can't do," Adam replied.
"Adam, if you play with that injury—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm risking my career. We've been through this before."
"Adam, I'm serious."
"So am I."
