(Hockey Bxb) Whistle In The Wind -𝐈𝐕-

╔══《”I’m always pushing you away 》══╗
from me, but you come back, with gravity.”

       It seemed like Aksel and Lucien had officially used up all their words for one night. After practice, they had all stopped by a local diner for dinner. It was the only good, cheap restaurant in town. Late nights at the rink often led to dinners at this diner.

       Practice had ended with a hard fall for Aksel, and he spent dinner complaining about his sore hip. According to him, ‘a kid skated into him.’ According to Lucien–who had watched from the stands–Aksel wasn’t looking where he was going and skated backwards into the kid.

       Váli could only sympathize for the kid, knowing how bad that must’ve hurt. Aksel’s ran into him before, when they once tried to practice on the same rink together. Aksel was strong on his own, but with the addition of his hockey pads, getting hit by him was the equivalent of being hit by a truck.

       Váli had never been hit by a truck but he assumes the pain is comparable.

       The salad in front of him remained half eaten, as he looked around at Aksel and Lucien’s plates. They always get fatty food. Today’s choice was chicken sandwiches. Their plates were now empty, the only trace of food once being there was the grease stain left over on their treys.

       It had been an inside joke that the two of them were like dogs, licking their plates clean. The banter between Luc and Aksel continued as they paid and headed back into the truck. Once inside however, the air shifted and the three of them silently agreed to not speak. Soon enough, Aksel leisurely pulled into the driveway of Luc’s spacious suburban farm house.

       Goodbyes were uttered as he left. Stopping to look back, Lucien waved to Vál, a grin accompanying his face. The car returned to voicelessness as Aksel strategically reversed and drove away. Through his window, Váli watched Luc open his front door, not so gracefully lugging his backpack and hockey bags through the opening.

       The time on the dash read 9 p.m., the sun having long set with the winter afternoon. Not all days at the rink ran late, but around competitions, Váli often stayed late while Aksel and Lucien grabbed dinner and did homework at the rink.

       A chill rushed through Váli’s spine, causing him to shiver as he held his arms tight to his chest.

       “When did you and Luc become friendly?” Aksel spoke, breaking the silence.

       Stunned, Vál tried to form a response, “Det var bare en bølge (It was just a wave),” he faltered looking out the window, hoping his brother wouldn’t see the tint on his cheeks in the darkness.

       Scoffing, Aksel didn’t respond. “Don’t steal my best friend,” he huffed in faux annoyance.

       “Næh aldri (Nah, never),” Vál gently intoned before the conversation died off into nothingness. The ride from the Cordes to the Lien households’ was short. Short enough for the brothers to return home at 9:05, only five minutes after dropping Lucien off.

       Not waiting for his brother to grab his bags, Váli rushed inside. By now, he had little time to shower and get ready before bed and before he would be expecting a call. Am I gonna call him? Or will he call me? Vál overthought.

       On most Fridays, Váli enjoyed staying up decently late. Would we hold off on facetiming until right when we would fall asleep? Would we start early and just be silent for a couple hours? Would we talk?

       All at once question after question came to Váli. Every ‘what if’ scenario running through his mind. Ding!

       Looking around, Váli recognized the sound as his text ringtone. Wrestling with his hoodie pockets, he retrieved the phone expecting the text to be from Nora–who he had been ghosting all day.

       He couldn’t hide the shock at the notification, stopping mid step on the stairs.

       Lucien: Call me when you’re ready?

       Rats! Now knowing he had to initiate, Vál scurried up the stairs in panic. Rushing to his room, he threw open drawers. Picking out the comfiest hoodie and the softest pajama pants, he rushed into the bathroom with his arms full.

       Váli had never been more thankful for the hot water to wash away his worries. After a couple minutes however, his body adjusted to the water and his thoughts returned.

       He turned the thoughts over in his mind like a stone in his hand. His eyebrows remained furrowed, even as his muscles relaxed when he began scrubbing shampoo into his scalp gingerly. When taking his time washing his body, Váli realized he never responded to Luc’s text.

       All of a sudden, his prior worries didn’t seem as relevant. He didn’t want to seem like an asshole. He pushed open the shower door the second he turned the water off. Failing to see the pool of water covering the entire floor.

       Slipping, he fell forward, his left knee striking the toilet and his body crashing down against the vanity. He felt the handles of the vanity drawers cut through his skin in multiple wounds. His ankle twisted and he felt the searing pain instantly. The loud crash echoed through the tiled room.

       Almost instantly, he heard footsteps. Of course. Aksel came bounding upstairs, pounding on the locked bathroom door. “Vál! Hva faen (What the fuck)!” he screamed. “Ã…pne døra (Open the door)!” he continued to yell while banging his fist on the wood surface.

       Scrambling, Vál rushed to get a pair of boxers on, ignoring the pain in his knee and left hip. As soon as they were on his body, he reached from where he was on the ground to do the door. Turning the knob, the lock opened with a click. Upon hearing this sound, Aksel flung the door open.

       “Gud (God), Aksel!” Váli screeched, “Jeg døde ikke (I didn’t die)!” His attempts to calm his brother down were futile. He was laying on the floor, blood oozing out of a couple inflictions on his body. His ankle had moved from targeted pain to throbbing pain. Consensus: Everywhere hurt. And yet, Vál still tried to convince his brother otherwise. His brother who–could see through any lie he told.

       “Nei, nei (Nah, nah),” Aksel beckoned with his hand, motioning toward the toilet. He pulled the lid down, like they were kids again. Vál sat on the make-shift seat while Aksel fished the first aid kit out of the bottom drawer in the white vanity.

       Impatient, Váli tried to wiggle around. Straight away, he knew something was wrong. In total, he’s rolled his ankle more times than he could count on both his hands and feet. This felt different, though. Instead of feeling discomfort and dull pain, he felt nothing at all.

       He couldn’t move it, it felt stiff and when he looked closer, he noticed the swelling. Swallowing hard, he tried to ignore it. Hopefully Aksel won’t notice and it will go away in a few days. He prayed.

       Aksel appeared in front of him, holding way to many medical supplies. “Jeez, Vál. You really roughed yourself up good.” he winced. Vál’s knee, which had slammed straight into the edge of the toilet, hadn’t broken skin luckily. “It’s definitely gonna bruise. And bruise bad,” Aksel commented in relation to his left knee. It had begun to turn bright red, continuing to sting.

       Shifting his attention to the other knee, Aksel immediately covered his face to hide a gag. It had landed on a handle. The handles on Váli’s vanity were long and skinny–shaped like a bracket against the door. The corners were sharp, and they had often assaulted Váli’s shins when accidentally walking into them.

       In this case, the handles had assaulted his right knee. The corner had caught his skin, and tugged it down as he fell. Now, the top layer of skin had completely been removed, leaving a bloody, red knee cap.

       “Au, au, au (Ouch, ouch, ouch),” Aksel cringed.

       “How come I’m the one in pain and you’ve cried more about,” Vál tried to joke. His voice was weak and his smile was half-hearted as his joke fell flat.

       “Dette kan være sting (This might sting),” Aksel warned, pouring hydrogen peroxide on a cotton pad. With no warning, he placed it against the open wound.

       Instantly, pain rushed through Vál’s entire body. Biting his hand, he silently screamed till the pain subsided. Squeezing his eyes shut, he waited as Aksel put a large Band-Aid over the wound.

       “Owww,” Vál cried, pulling his knee to his chest the moment Aksel was finished with his. The action caused him to wince. He remembered his hip, which had struck the corner of the vanity.

       Pulling on the waistband of his boxers, Vál quickly discovered that his waist had similar damage to his knee. It was in a worse spot, and when he released the band–causing it to snap against his opened skin–the pain in the area increased tenfold.

       “Let me see, Vál,” Aksel persisted, knowing the wound would only get infected if it wasn’t treated. Having commonly dealt with injuries in hockey, Aksel was well versed in them.

       Slowly, Vál pulled the tight elastic down once more. Aksel shifted closer to the toilet, trying to get better leverage. The moment he locked eyes with the ugly hip, his face turned to disgust.

       “I’m feeling nice so Imma skip the peroxide. I don’t wanna look at that thing any longer,” he rushed while slapping a Band-Aid over the area.

       “How do you think I feel?” Váli cursed under his breath. “These injuries will definitely inhibit me from practicing for at least a week,” he whined, now realizing the gravity of the situation.

       “Maybe this is good for you,” Aksel spoke, offering advice. “Maybe you need some time off, you don’t wanna burn yourselves out, you’re only 16.”

       Frustrated, Váli shouted, “You don’t understand! I need to practice or I’ll fall behind.”

       “Okay fine! Maybe I don’t understand,” Aksel scoffed, standing up. “Go talk to someone who will.” The door slammed behind him, and Váli felt the overwhelming urge to cry. The tears poured down his cheeks. Not in sobs, but slow sniffles. His eyes filled with the salty water, but he simply blinked it away.

       He remembered the text he never responded to. Ironic how something so trivial is the root for his problems now. Guess I better respond. He’s gonna think I’m a mega asshole now.

       Váli stood up, immediately wavering. His ankle shot pain up his leg the moment he put any pressure on it. Shifting his weight, he attempted to keep his composure. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. He repeated to himself, choking down the sob before it could leave his throat.

       With 90% of his body weight balanced on his right foot, he put on the rest of his clothes. Rushing toward the door, he shielded his eyes from the mirror. He knew what he would see: A helpless boy with red eyes and tear stained cheeks, he would see his younger self. He would see the part of him that he could never quite escape from.

       Scurrying out, he made a sprint to his room. His sprint was more like a limp, him needing to grab the wall for support. Eventually, he entered his room and quickly threw all his belongings on the floor by the door before flopping into bed.

       Dragging himself off the mattress, Vál knew if he closed his eyes for even a second while laying down, that he would fall asleep without texting Lucien back. I would be a mega-mega asshole if I did that. He chuckled to himself, reaching for his phone on his bedside table.

       No new notifications. He didn’t mind though, he didn’t open his phone to catch up with social media, he came to prove that he wasn’t an asshole.

       Váli: I was in the shower and I’m ready whenever lmk when u are ready too

       Barely having time to place his phone on his bedside table, it began to vibrate. Already? I’m not prepared, oh my god.

       Taking a deep breath, he turned his phone around and answered. On the other end, Lucien’s smiling face popped up. His lights were on, and he looked to be in bed. Vál took in his image, momentarily forgetting that they were on call.

       Not able to bear the silence any longer, Lucien spoke up first. Clearing his throat, he breathed, “Hey Váli.” The words alone made Váli swoon, and suddenly the events from earlier seemed insignificant, being pushed to the back of his mind…

Question of the chapter: Sweet foods, salty foods, savory foods, or spicey foods?

╚══《Word count- 2,124》══╝

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