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It was never easy playing against Toronto.
Troy could feel that knot building in his chest since the week prior.
Harris noticed, too. Of course he did. Even though Troy wasn’t the chattiest person, Harris could sense something was bothering him. He also knew pretty well that trying to make Tory speak wasn’t an option. The more he tried to make him talk, the more he distanced himself.
The week passed discreetly for them both. Harris was focused on his job, and trying to make feel Troy safe at least whilst being at home. He knew he couldn't protect him for what he would have to face in Toronto.
Even though Dallas Kent was called guilty and wasn’t playing anymore, Troy was a persona non grata in Toronto. Probably the fans would never forgive him for calling his teammate (and friend) a rapist.
Troy kept practicing, maybe pushing a little too hard, but that's what he needed to stop his mind. He felt the need to exhaust himself to prevent spiraling again. Anxiety was hard to control sometimes.
The flight was smooth. Troy sat next to a window, his earplugs on, without participating in any conversations. Even Ilya, who always tried to cheer everybody up, left him alone. He knew well how hard it was for Troy to come back to Toronto.
“You okay?” It was Shane asking. Of course Shane understood how Troy felt. He himself had suffered more or less the same as Troy with his last team. The way they were transferred wasn’t exactly the same, but both of them had left their teams a little bit “obligated”. Montreal fans hated Shane Hollander just as much as Toronto’s hated Troy Barrett.
Troy just nodded, his expression blank, and took the card to his room before exiling himself there. Today they had the rest of the day free, and everything Troy wanted was to call Harris, listen to his voice and feel his warmth and drink his bright smile, even though it was through a screen.
“Hey buddy” Harris smiley face appeared on his screen as soon as he tapped the Call button. Troy tried his best smile, failing at the attempt, and Harris expression shifted to something like understanding and concern. “Hey...” he started softly, “It’s going to be okay, sooner than you know you’ll be back home with us – he said as petting Chiron’s head - and we will cuddle together for as long as you need” said Harris, with his soft and understanding voice. God, Harris was so good, sometimes Troy still wondered how he was so damn lucky of having someone like Harris by his side.
He had to breathe deeply before answering to prevent the tears that were forming behind his eyes from falling. “I know...” he started, “I just... I don’t know if I’m ready to be booed again... I thought I was above all of that hate, but... it still crawls in my skin”.
Harris felt pity for him. Troy, who loved hockey with all his soul... He didn’t deserve that hate. And least when all he did was to stand up to protect those women from a rapist... It was crazy how hockey could be sometimes.
“It’s just a game Troy, you go there, play your best hockey and head back to the plane. You have done it before, and you can do it again. Plus, the guys have your back”. Troy sighed; at least that was true. His teammates had his back. He knew that he was going to be targeted by their rivals, but he wasn’t alone.
So, he nodded and muttered “Yes... I know, thank you” then added “I just needed to see you” and attempted a smile.
They talked about all and anything for a while, before Ilya and the others interrupted them to get Troy out of his room. The team had planned to go to a restaurant that Wyatt had found to have dinner together. Troy hesitated but ended up joining them. Harris would be proud of his decision.
Dinner was nice; it was useful for Troy to distract his mind. He didn’t think about where he was while dinner; he even laughed at some of the jokes they made.
Even though, sleep didn't come easily. He stared at the ceiling for uncountable hours.
He didn’t even care that much about being booed. It was something hard to explain, the way he felt... He couldn’t find a reason to feel this bad, to be this bothered about being here. Finally, in depth of thoughts he fell asleep.
---
Troy was finishing putting on his gear when Ilya Rozanov approached him. “Come with me” he said, already leaving the locker room. Troy followed him without saying anything.
This scene reminded him of the first time they had played together against Toronto, a year ago, just after Troy had been traded.
“You are nervous. You always are against Toronto”, “I’m...” Troy started, but Ilya interrupted him “You already know we have your back” Ilya was serious when he played his Captain role. “I know... It’s just... I don’t know what happens to me here, I just... I can’t control it. I feel overwhelmed every time I'm back here. I feel like... I can’t stop thinking about... everything, my mind is racing all the time and I... I'm weak Ilya, maybe I shouldn't...” “Stop” Ilya interrupted him “You are going to hyperventilate Barrett. Just relax. It is nothing more than another game. You are anxious, not weak.” He sat down on the floor and tapped the spot near him for Troy to do the same. He did.
“You are anxious person. Always overthinking. I am... how you said it?” “Perceptive” said Troy, voice low, but smiling, Ilya had loved that word. “Da, perceptive. I know sometimes your mind goes far away. You imagine things that will not happen. Never. But it is okay. It is normal, not bad, this does not make you weak, okay? Do not say that again. Ever." he smiled at that, meeting Troy's eyes. "Maybe you need to take care of that, with a therapist. But not today, what you need to do now is go out there and demonstrate to them what they missed by letting you go. Let’s make them shout at you for a good reason, Barret”. After his speech, Ilya stood up and helped Troy on his feet.
Ilya was surprisingly good at talking, even though English wasn’t his first language. And yes, he was... perceptive. Troy felt a little bit lighter. He knew he was anxious; he had been fighting against his mind for his entire life. He had never had the courage to ask for help because his father had made him feel "weak" whenever he felt anxious or like having a pannick attack, he was just used to fight against it and act like nothing happened.
Maybe Ilya was right and he needed help. Someone to talk about it. A professional, of course, he didn’t want to bother Harris or his mum with that stuff.
Troy followed Ilya to the locker room again and finished getting ready. The boys were all excited, talking loudly and laughing. Toy really loved this team and his energy.
The game started, Troy was hit against the boards uncountable times, and every time he got the puck, the noise of people shouting at him was deafening. He received more jabs and hits during this match than in his entire career.
Against all odds, he managed to score a goal that tasted like glory, and the Centaurs ended up winning 3-1. Coach Wiebe congratulated all of them back in the locker room.
Troy changed into the suit to leave the arena, a few bruises forming in his legs and ribs. Nothing serious, but he will be sore for a few days.
---
Troy headed home as soon as they landed in Ottawa.
Harris was at home with Chiron, finishing some posts for the official Centaur’s account.
Troy didn’t care that he was still working, as soon as he got home, he went upstairs and grapped his arms around Harris’s body, feeling the warmth of his boyfriend and breathing him in. He needed this, to feel at home, to feel safe in the arms of the guy that loved him.
“I’ve missed you” Troy muttered; Harris stood up and guided them to the bedroom while kissing Troy passionately.
Once on the bed, he pushed Troy down the mattress, and positioned himself above him, trailing kisses through his neck. “Pull out your clothes” Harris said, Troy stood and obeyed, Harris was taking off his own clothes. Troy was on his briefs when Harris attacked him again, pressing his mouth against his already hard cock through the fabric. Troy lifted his hips while Harris pulled down his underwear, letting his cock sprang free, hard and already licking. “I’ve missed you too” smiled Harris, talking to Troy’s dick. Troy laughed and groaned at the same time, because Harris was taking him into his mouth. “Oh my god, yes” Tory wouldn’t resist the urge of buckle his hips, fucking Harris’s mouth. Harris encouraged him with a moan of pleasure, guiding his hand to the base of Troy’s cock, stroking him at the same time.
Harris stopped for a moment, to get rid of his own underwear, stroking himself a couple of times before reaching the lube in the nightstand. “Turn around” he said. Troy searched for his eyes “Are you sure?” “Absolutely, let me take care of you”. So, Troy positioned himself on his knees. He was used to top, because Harris usually preferred to bottom, but they enjoyed switching positions too. Troy really enjoyed bottoming, actually.
Harris poured an amount of lube in his fingers and started making circles around Troy’s hole, testing him, before introducing it. Troy adjusted to the intrusion, relaxing himself, “More” he muttered against the pillow. Harris added a second, then a third finger, scissoring them, hitting the spot that made Troy see stars. Harris smiled when he realized Troy was trying to fuck his fingers. He slipped out, making Troy groan at the loss.
“Fuck me please” pleaded Troy. Harris didn’t need more; he lined himself and introduced his aching cock in Troy with a deep thrust. He pauses, letting Troy recover his breath and waiting for permission to move. It was Troy who moved first, encouraging Harris to set the pace. He started slowly. "Harder" said Troy. Well, his wishes were orders to Harris, so he increased the pace and the intensity.
The only thing you could hear in the room were the moans and the groans from both men, and the sound of skin against skin. Harris repositioned himself, one lg on the mattress to go even deeper. This made him hit even harder Troy’s prostate, making him lose his mind. He could feel his orgasm building, and he could tell Harris was close too, because his movements were more erratic now.
He closed his fist around his own cock, stroking himself. “Harris” he said “Harris I’m...” “Come” ordered Harris. That was all Troy needed. He came hard with a strangled moan, cum going all over his chest and the sheets. Harris came almost at the same time, filling Troy with his cum.
Troy let him fall on his side; Harris slipped out and went to the bathroom, returning with a wet cloth. He took his time cleaning Troy. Maybe more time than necessary, enjoying the view of his man.
“You played amazingly well, I’m proud of you” said Harris, resting against the headboard of the bed and putting an arm around Troy’s shoulders, bringing him closer.
Troy smiled and looked up at Harris, kissing him softly. He knew he needed to talk to him, as hard as it was. Harris was understandable and won’t judge him by being “weak”.
“Harris... I think I need help. To take care of... my anxiety... Sometimes I feel overwhelmed and like... sometimes it’s hard to breathe, to focus... to stay calm... I know maybe I'm not as strong as i should be... but... I think I could use seeing a therapist. ” Troy’s gaze was down, avoiding Harris’s eyes. It was difficult for him to admit that he wasn’t as okay as he wanted to be.
“I think it would be good for you, babe. You know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, right?" Harris took Troy’s chin up, making him meet his gaze. "And never again think that you're not strong enough. This doesn't define you as a person. If so, admitting that you aren't okay and that you need help makes you brave, but not weak", Troy nodded shyly and kissed him again. He rested his head on Harris’s shoulder and was able to finally, after a week of spiral thoughts and fear, fall asleep and rest.