(Hockey Bxb) Whistle In The Wind -𝐗𝐕𝐈-

╔══《”Maybe you’ll finally chose me》══╗
after you’ve had more time.”

       The first time Váli was hit, he was 5. It was late at night, hours passed his bedtime. However, he had woken up in the middle of the night with a scratchy throat and a nasty cough. Each hack rattled his small body, his voice hoarse.

       His room was dark, but he was too short to reach the light switch, and too scared to stretch across his bed to turn on the lamp resting on his bedside table. So instead, he climbed off the tall mattress, planting both his feet on the floor.

       Determined to be brave, he confidently marched to his door. The crack between the wood and the wall created a sliver of light. He stared out, pressing his face flush against the door frame. The smell of paint and wood stain tainted his nostrils. Reaching for the knob, he slowly pulled. Sticking just his head out, he peaked around the corner, looking both ways before shimmying out of his room.

       The hallway was completely empty, no sounds emerging from any door. Turning his attention to each one, Váli noted the lack of light slipping through beneath the entries.

       All was still and quiet. 

       Carefully, Váli sauntered out. With his right hand glued to the wall as a guide, he took baby steps forward. His heart pounded, scared for what monsters may jump out from the shadows. Each sway of a branch, creating a moving shadow, made Váli skittish in anticipation.  

        The brightness of the big moon cast light throughout the whole house. Following it, Váli headed toward the kitchen. He wanted water, oblivious of what awaited down stairs.

       When he finally reached the kitchen–and was about to celebrate his successful venture–he was startled by another person. Leaning against the counter, slouched his mother. Her hair was messed up, greasy and tangled. Her clothes were wrinkled, and her makeup was smeared.

       Through the dim light of the moon, Váli stared at her disheveled state. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her breathing was uneven. The smell of alcohol hit his nose instantly, causing the child to step back.

       Inching backwards, he attempted to leave the room unnoticed. However, he was stopped by a wobbly voice. “Hva gjør du her (what are you doing here)?” it spoke.

       Váli didn’t respond, he couldn’t. His dry throat had completely closed up in fear. Swallowing hard, he slowly approached. Now standing to her full height, she faced her son. In her hand rested a green bottle, near empty.

       The scared kid stared at it, noticing his mothers white knuckles, indicating her tight grip. “Svar meg (answer me)!” she yelled, stumbling closer. Before Váli could open his mouth to even attempt to respond, a flash of green glass crossed his vision. Immediately, he was knocked off his feet.

       The sound of shattering glass echoed throughout the kitchen, millions of shards scattering. Laying on the floor heaving, all Váli felt was pain. The bottle not only knocked him over, but punctured him. Loose shards had cut along his legs and arms, creating open wounds that began to bleed. Each one stung, tears overflowing onto the boys cheeks.

       The area of the shirt covering his stomach, which had been hit by the bottle, was staining red rapidly. Panting, Váli’s vision doubled. Each time he dared to look down at himself, he gagged, the sight of hundreds of punctuations and lacerations making him nauseous.

       His mother, who seemed unfazed, frowned at her son. “Jeg kastet den ikke hardt (I didn’t throw it hard),” she muttered, “du er virkelig svak (you really are weak).” She frowned, nudging at the glass bits with her bare foot.

       By now, Váli was crying, lying curled up on the floor. His knees were pulled tight to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around them. He couldn’t move, each action causing hundreds of glass fragments to dig into his body.

       Opening his eyes slightly, Váli was shoved back again. The heel of a  foot was shoved into his side. The kick knocked the wind out of him, causing him to quickly lose consciousness. His weak body went completely limp, his mind slipping away. When he awoke much later, he was back in his room, snuggled under the covers.

…

       Váli stood at the sink, debating whether or not to snoop around. He arrived at Lucien’s half an hour ago, having excused himself to go to the bathroom when an ache in his legs returned. So, he stood by the sink unmoving and unsure of what to do.

       Deciding he couldn’t ignore the stinging pain any longer, he sat on the toilet and hiked his pant legs up. The moment he got a glance at his shins, he cringed. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.

       The scratches, which were zigzagged and ran in short segments across his legs, were deep red. The skin surrounding each cut was flaking, some scabbing over. Gently gliding over them with his hand, Váli flinched.

       The image of shattering glass crossed his mind momentarily before he placed his foot on the floor. Is it weird to dig around and look for alcohol wipes?  Vál questioned, already digging around in the cabinet under the sink.

       Cleaning supplies, toilet paper, Band-Aids, a polaroid… Wait what–? Sandwiched against the backboard of wood and other junk, Vál spotted the familiar white bordered picture. Reaching back, he yanked it from its spot.

       The photo came loose instantly. Pulling the small rectangle to his face, Váli observed the image. It was dark, so dark the entire background was a muddy black. In the center of the frame, were two teenage boys. Lucien was easy to recognize, and Váli did so effortlessly.

        However, staring at the second person, Val frowned. Who the hell is this? I’ve never seen this guy before… The longer he stared, the more confused he became. The stranger had shaggy black hair, cut in the style of a mullet. His face displayed a mean expression and at least two facial piercings were visible. He looked strong, his bare arms exposed in the black tank top he was wearing.

       His arm was around Luc, and he was smiling despite the intimidating aura he excreted. Lucien on the other hand, couldn’t look any less happy. He was frowning, his body pulling away from the mysterious person in obvious uncomfortability.

       The longer Val stared at the picture, the more confused he became. Who the hell is this? Aksel’s never mentioned Luc having other friends… This looks old though. He noted, remembering that Lucien only wore his hair styled this short when he was in eighth grade, three years ago.

       Why is a three year old polaroid shoved in the back of his bathroom cabinet? He pondered, questions buzzing through his head. Glancing back at the vanity, Váli noticed a bag full of Band-aids. Sighing, he reached his entire arm back into the space to return the picture to its exact place.

       Sliding it back in between the back and bottom panels, he brushed the image from his mind, grabbing the zip-lock bag. Peeling it open, he peered inside. Digging to the bottom, he pulled out a section of small bandages. Hesitating, he unpeeled the plastic covering on one before guiding it to his shin.

       Flinching, he covered a couple of the cuts that were more tender and raw. Once finished, he replaced the bag in the cabinet. With one final glance at the white film sticking out from the back of the vanity drawer, Váli pushed himself off the tile floor.

       Brushing his pants off, he psyched himself up to leave. Just act normal, like nothing happened! You didn’t see a polaroid with a stranger while snooping in his vanity!

       “You good?” A deep voice interrupted, startling Váli out of his thoughts.

       “Oh, sorry,” he sheepishly replied. “So… What do you normally do after school?” Váli hesitated, unsure how to converse with Luc.

       “Let’s see…” Lucien contemplated, leaning his body weight against the open bathroom door frame. His upper body flexed to hold his mass upright. The loose t-shirt draped over torso left little for imagination as Váli ogled at the rippling muscles.

       “Do you have freckles everywhere?” he questioned, immediately flustered with how out of the blue and personal the question was.

       “Yeah, pretty much,” Luc pondered, glancing at both his speckled arms. After a second of silence, he smirked, “Yeah, everywhere.”

       Confused, Váli failed to understand whatever sly joke Lucien made, a frown dipping onto his face upon noticing Luc’s amused expression.

       “My mom told me to make cookies for the patients at the hospital she volunteers at.”

       “She volunteers? That’s so cool!” Váli beamed, perking up. “How do you sign up for that?” Stepping out of his position, Luc motioned with his head toward the hallway. Following him, Váli and Luc continued their conversation while walking downstairs and toward the kitchen.

       “I can talk to her about it. She’s not home right now, but she should get home soon.”

       “I want to be a doctor,” he radiated.

       “Ohh, that’s cool,” Lucien smiled, curious about Váli’s future.

       “What kind of doctor?”

       “Pediatric.” Shuffling to get out supplies, Váli and Lucien loitered through the kitchen seamlessly. Despite having never been in Luc’s kitchen, the two boys often spent time together in Váli’s. The familiar layout and situation allowed them to co-exist so smoothly it felt natural.

       “Are you gonna give up skating eventually then?” he questioned.

       Pausing, Váli struggled to answer. “I’ll see… I might become an instructor, or something.”

       “Do you not like skating?”

       “No… I do like it. It’s just a lot of pressure sometimes,” he shrugged sheepishly. Bobbing his head up and down, Lucien crouched down to grab something out of a lower cabinet.

       Placed out on the counter stood sugar, flour, and various other assorted ingredients. “Yeah I get that. Hockey’s the same. It’s fun ’till playoff season,” he chuckled.

       “Once playoffs start, every game has the potential to be your last.” Humming, Váli turned his head slowly to observe the room. The kitchen was open on one side, leading into a room with an island. The cabinets were painted a light shade of green, almost appearing white when looked at briefly.

       Shiny appliances decorated the counters; a kitchen-aid in the far corner, a toaster, an electric kettle, an espresso machine. “Does chocolate chip sound good?” Lucien held up a yellow bag of Morsels Chocolate Chips with a cheeky grin on his face.

       “Chocolate chip sounds perfect. That’s my favorite cookie.” Váli confirmed, slowly walking closer to grab the bag from Lucien’s outright hand. “I always just use the recipe on the back when I make them. It gets the job done.”

       “That’s always a classic,” Luc agreed. “I have a family recipe that’s even better,” he simpered, reaching over to a thick book placed in the far corner.

       The spine was fraying, and the pages had yellowed to a deep amber through decades of continuous flipping through and direct sun exposure. As he paged through it, scribbles of hand written recipes flashed by, each done in black ink. A list of ingredients followed by a short blurb of instructions. Pieces of spare paper and dried flower petals fluttered in between the capsizing leaflets.

       Years of love and life were sewn into the very bindings of the recipe book. Váli could only stare at the relic in awe and admiration. The book’s existence, having spanned generations, proved the connection rooted deep in every person in the Cordes family. Concentrated on the buzzing pages, Lucien furrowed his brow in concentration.

       The kitchen’s window cast rays of afternoon light through the prismed glass, flooding onto the open space. The hardwood floor and numerous plants scattered across the room created a cozy ambiance. Váli couldn’t help but admire Lucien’s back as he focused on his task.

       He seemed so at ease, so used to this life. I wonder what it’s like to have this life? The blond mused, his breath hitching in his throat. I could definitely get used to this–

       “Lucien, I’m home!” a cheerful and energetic voice called out into the house, the closing of the front door echoing shortly after…

Question of the chapter: What’s your favorite kind of cookie?

Sorry this took so long! (Hopefully) back to more regular updates!

╚══《Word count- 2,062》══╝

══https://open.spotify.com/track/4kkWvBCT6wq5NHoJjYRaPU══