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None of this was productive to say aloud, not now. He didn’t want to be the person who badmouthed exes (deservingly or not) when it didn’t matter. It wasn’t healthy to dwell...but he would listen as Dylan worked through it on his own.

“I’m sure he doesn’t understand it himself,” Henri said generously. It was all he could offer.

Dylan let out a harsh laugh. “No, probably not,” he agreed. “There’s a lot of...what do people call it? Internalized homophobia or something? From being Russian, I guess. He never talked about it. I...I think he doesn’t think it counts as real sex if it’s not anal. He was always real careful about it. What we did in bed.” He turned his head to look at Henri, chin propped on his ribs. “Is it okay if I talk about this? If you don’t want to hear it…”

“I don’t mind,” Henri assured him. He brushed Dylan’s hair out of his face and then nudged him so he’d settle back against his chest. He didn’t like that Sokolov and Dylan had been together and never would, but that was more about Sokolov being an asshole. Everyone was entitled to their past, and Henri wanted to be someone Dylan trusted and could talk to. “Did it bother you that he didn’t want to do anything else?”

Dylan shrugged, the movement pushing against Henri’s hip. “I was up for more. As you know.” He pinched Henri’s leg, and Henri could feel a smile against his skin. “But I don’t think I minded, or thought it wasn’t enough. It’s just now that I’m looking back, I wonder if any of that would’ve changed things. If I’d pushed for more, or if he’d given in and tried it. But I think it would’ve just ended things sooner, y’know? As much as I think Alexei did care about me, I was also the line he couldn’t cross.”

Henri tipped Dylan’s head back up so they could look at each other. “Even if you were happy,” he said, “you deserved more. You deserve someone who would choose to be with you.”

Something soft overtook Dylan’s features. Here Henri was thinking he was the mushy one, but Dylan had outdone him with a single look.

“I know,” Dylan said. He kissed Henri’s bare skin, never looking away. “I know I do.”

Henri knew he’d rather die than hurt Dylan, and the thought overwhelmed him. He worried it was plain on his face, and was relieved when Dylan went back to resting his head. He scooted down to lie on his stomach now, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there and his fingers brushing over the dusting of dark hair at his navel.

“What about you?” Dylan asked. “Any exes I gotta worry about?”

Henri snorted. “No.” There was an expectant silence. “I’ve never had a real relationship. Always casual. With hockey and travel…” With the very real chance I could be moved to another city at a moment’s notice...

“But you weren’t lonely, were you?”

“I was,” he admitted. “But I’m not anymore.”

CHAPTER 61

turkeytalk (February 27, 2024): The All Star break seems to have been in the Turkey’s favor - they’re 4-0-1 to close out February. They are now in a real playoff position (not just the wildcard). This will be the first post-Sokolov playoff run for the Turkeys (assuming they don’t screw up the end of the regular season). Anyone else excited?

↪ gobblegoals: and can we spare a moment to talk about the storm just TANKING after the all star game? they’re 0-4-2 since then. sokolov in particular has looked ATROCIOUS. tons of penalties, none of the smooth plays we’re used to from him. i don’t want to say i’m enjoying it, but i’m kind of enjoying it.

↪ turkeytalk: Hate to see it. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.

↪ gobblegoals: tag your sarcasm, sir. the new followers might think you’re being serious.

abqturkeysnhl (February 27, 2024): Over the past five games, Everett moves up to 47 goals. He’s first in the league in goals scored. Baptiste has 52 assists (tied for sixth in the league) and Novak has 47 (tied for eleventh). Pretty good season so far for the top line

turkeytalk (February 29, 2024): The trade deadline is approaching. Say a prayer for your favs and hope they’re still on your roster this time next month.

Henri hated this time of year. It was so fucking stressful. It wasn’t the push for playoffs, because that strain was shared by the team. He fucking hated the trade deadline. He’d only been traded mid-season once, but he’d listened to the speculation and threats and rumors every fucking year since his rookie season.

Shape up, Baptiste, or you’re on the block.

Even in the years he’d desperately wanted to go because his team was awful to him, they’d insisted on keeping his contract.

Always at the whim of other people, and their whims never really aligned with what he wanted or needed.

Once the All-Star Break ended, Henri felt the coaches’ eyes on him more than usual, their gazes assessing in a way he didn’t like. Like he was a cow being taken to market. Or the slaughterhouse. Every time they called his name, he jumped. Every time his phone buzzed with a text or call, he froze. He was wound so tight it was only a matter of time until he snapped.

Henri’s phone vibrated with an incoming call, and he was unable to force himself to be calm as he jumped over the back of Dylan’s sofa to grab it from the kitchen. Dylan squawked in indignant surprise, nearly toppled over in Henri’s haste to get to his phone.

Incoming call: Papa

Not the call he was dreading, then. He picked up.

“Salut, Papa.” He could tell from his father’s questions that this wasn’t a social call. All business. Still, Henri relaxed at the sound of his father’s voice and answered dutifully in French. “No, I haven’t heard anything yet. Yes, the team is doing well. We should make playoffs. Ehh, I can’t say that it’s because of me. Yes, I’ve told my agent I’d like to stay, but they have no real control if the team decides to trade me. Yes, I will tell you if I hear anything. Relax, Papa. I am...confident it will be fine.” He had no such confidence, but fake it until you made it, right? “Au revoir, Papa. Je t’aime.”

He ended the call. He held the phone to his forehead and closed his eyes, trying to breathe out his stress. It was useless to fixate.