Chapter Text
Troy hadn’t played this badly since he had been traded from Toronto to Ottawa. He hadn’t scored a point in over a week, and Coach Weibe had (unsurprisingly) demoted him to the second line. He didn’t even know why this was bothering him so much. Troy and Harris had been in a committed relationship for over a year, and it had been the best year of his life. Hell, Troy was planning on proposing at the end of the season, and everyone knew it.
So why did his ex-boyfriend’s stupid interview bother him so much?
2 weeks ago, Adrian had done a tell-all style interview where he opened up about his sexuality and what it meant to play a superhero. The interview had started innocently enough, asking Adrian when he realized he was gay, why he didn’t feel like he could come out, and how his engagement gave him the strength to “be brave.”
But at some point, the interviewer asked Adrian about what it was like to date while in the closet. And Adrian took it upon himself to go into excruciatingly vague details about when he dated a professional athlete. About how miserable he knew they both were, because neither of them was in a place to come out. About how the toxic masculinity of professional sports was exhausting, and he knew he could never have a future with this person he cared for. About how he hoped that his coming out inspired his ex.
Of course, Adrian didn’t name Troy, or that the “athlete ex” was a hockey player. Troy could only imagine how much more of a shit show he would be if people were speculating that he was the ex in question. Except, the general public was none the wiser that Troy and Adrian had been together for two years, and Troy was still spiraling. And now, he was doing what he did best off the ice- punishing himself in the gym. Because maybe if Troy lifted until he couldn’t feel his arms anymore, he could remember how to play hockey.
He was just about to finish a set of reps when he saw Ilya come into his peripheral vision. Great, just what he needed. His obnoxious captain, who was going to make fun of him and still find a way to make it charming. He was already racking the bar when Ilya tossed a toque at him.
“Get your coat. We’re going on a walk.”
“A walk?” was the only comeback Troy could come up with.
“Yes. Anya is in the car,” Ilya said, as if Troy should have known that from the beginning.
“You drove here with your dog on a day off so you could take her on a walk?”
“Yes. And because Shane has a meeting. Get your coat, I left the car running.”
Great, Troy was going to get yelled at by his captain in front of his captain’s dog. Why couldn’t he have been working his lower body? Then he could fake a leg cramp or something.
They’re not even 30 seconds into the walk when Ilya says in a flat tone, “You have been playing like shit.”
“I know,” Troy sighs, watching Anya’s tail wag happily.
“Why? Are you and Harris-”
“Harris and I are fine.” Troy interrupts. He sighs again.
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s cried in front of Ilya.
“This guy I used to date-”
Now it’s Ilya’s turn to interrupt Troy.
“But you and Harris.”
“Are fine,” Troy snarls. “Jesus, we’re literally going out to lunch in,” Troy glances at his watch, “an hour. No, my ex-boyfriend’s being a major dick and I can’t get out of my head.”
When Troy glances at Ilya, he finds the Russian’s face unreadable as he watches Anya patter in front of them. Perfect. Troy couldn’t even properly communicate why he was all messed up. Thanks Adrian.
“I used to date Adrian Dela Cruz,” he says, still facing Ilya.
This rewards Troy with a pair of raised eyebrows.
“The superhero?”
“Well, he wasn’t much of a superhero when he cheated on me after being together for two years.”
“Ah”
“Yeah. He dumped me right before I got traded and then announced his engagement right after. And then, he has the audacity to go on an interview and talk about how he never felt like he could come out when we were together because hockey is too toxic to handle queer players. And yeah, it’s not a cakewalk, but I was seriously thinking about coming out for him. So we could be together for real. He didn’t even try. He didn’t even call me when I got traded, and my life was turned upside down in a matter of hours.
And now everyone looks at him like he’s breaking the glass ceiling for being a gay actor when people like you and Scott have slurs thrown at them 20 times a day by people who call themselves fans. And I’m just some nameless ‘professional athlete’ that he gets to reduce into a 2-minute segment of his interview. And as much as I hate to say it, I started becoming a better person when we were dating, and it’s like none of that matters.”
The dam’s broken now, and every awful thing that Troy’s been thinking for the last two weeks comes flooding out of his mouth. He keeps ranting to Ilya. About how he’s upset that Adrian still holds this much power over him, about the league’s refusal to post anything for Pride in June, about the “fans” who say that Troy posts too much on social media and that he should just focus on hockey.
He vents until he realizes that they’ve done two entire laps around the practice facility.
“How do you feel now?” Ilya asks, turning to face Troy with his entire body.
Troy squats and Anya takes this as a signal to come over and lick him.
“Tired,” he says, rubbing Anya’s face between his hands. “But better. I don’t know, I don’t want to put all my shit on Harris. He has enough to deal with.”
“Have you thought about therapy?”
The question almost knocks Troy on his ass. He had heard that Ilya went to therapy, but he also knew (because it was public information with his and Shane’s charity) that Ilya’s mother had killed herself. Not trusting that he wouldn’t sound like an asshole, Troy just shakes his head.
“Even though they say talking will make you feel better, it is not always the case. I did not feel like it helped for months. But eventually, things felt,” Ilya pauses, assumingly to find the words in English. “Less heavy.”
Troy doesn’t really know what to do with this confession from his captain. He’d certainly never thought about going to therapy himself. Once in juniors, Troy had to endure an entire car ride home while his father complained about one of Troy’s teammates, who was seeing a sports psychologist.
"Back in my day, we just sucked it up and got on the ice,” he had bitched. "You don't win games by talking, you win by grinding it out."
But Troy’s father was a piss of shit, so maybe he should start doing the opposite of whatever he had told Troy.
Troy’s about to thank Ilya and let him know that he’ll consider reaching out to the team’s psychologist when Anya takes off, this time actually knocking Troy on his ass. He looks over his shoulder and sees her eagerly running towards Shane, who’s walking towards them with a smile on his face.
“Think about it, Barrett. No one on this team will think less of you for it,” Ilya says gently, probably because he’s looking back at Shane.
“Yeah,” Troy says, making his way to his feet. “I’ll do that.”
“Yes, you will. Because if you don’t stop playing like shit we will not make the playoffs. And then you will not be able to rub it in your ex’s face when you kiss your boyfriend on Live TV after winning the Stanley Cup.” Ilya said, with the deathly serious face he got whenever he talked about winning the Cup.
“I’ll get my shit together,” Troy confirms, as Ilya walks towards Shane, who throws a friendly wave his way.
Troy stands there for a few seconds before he realizes that he’s officially staring at them and heads back into the arena to meet up with Harris for lunch. He makes a point to swing by the trainer's room to grab the sports psychologist’s contact information. For the first time in weeks, he’s feeling a little lighter.
And when Troy scores 2 goals in their next game against Dallas, Ilya doesn't hesitate to take all the credit.
“I am a good captain,” he smirks. “Very wise.”