Chapter Text
Thursday, October 5, 2023
Boston University had never looked so beautiful. So much prettier than any picture could depict when covered in snow.
That was what Fraser thought every time snowfall began, at least. He knew some other students would heavily disagree with him, but that wasn’t any of his business.
He’d always been a sucker for the winter months, after all. Winter and fall were what he looked forward to through the stifling hot heat of summer and spring. Plus, winter and fall meant hockey season, and very few things in his life topped that.
The school year only began in early September, but he’d managed to settle in quickly amongst the other students and, of course, the Terriers. The team was as welcoming as could be, and he and the other freshmen bundled together with an unspoken understanding.
He met Mason when they first moved into their shared dorm. Fraser had been about to leave for the library when he ran into a freakishly tall ginger on the way out. He offered to carry his bag there after dropping an entire textbook on his toe, like that would make up for the bruise on it.
Thanks, Lohrei.
They grew to be close after that.
Then there was Macklin, who Fraser met first in the tryouts. He was sweet. A bit strange, but sweet nonetheless. Aiden, though not a freshman, came as a package deal to his younger brother, and they all found common ground in being Vancouverites (the demonym for their home city had been discovered through some beers and a game of darts a few days after tryouts).
Now, here they all were. 10pm at the rink on a Thursday and not even close to packing up for the night yet.
Macklin fired a shot into the net whilst Fraser did his usual rounds of the rink when he needed a minute to recharge after going too hard. Or to clear his anxiety-ridden head. He couldn’t quite tell which it was right now.
He did have a quiz the next day, but assuming Professor Hepworth would be lenient was pretty safe, and he’d grown to like that about the man from Missouri. The only other thing that could possibly be bothering him was the first game of the season this weekend, but he was never one to be nervous for games.
Oh well. Mystery for another day.
Mason shot a puck at Fraser before he could think any harder on the matter, fumbling the receive and nearly thwacking Aiden right in the shin, earning a laugh from the Louisianian and a middle finger from Aiden.
“I wasn’t ready, Mase!” Fraser shouted from across the ice, rolling his eyes when Mason skated over to tease him some more.
“I don’t care, Minten, and neither will those BC assholes on Saturday.” He sounded so much like Bryce it was almost scary. He’d never met anyone who hated BC more than the pair, or anyone who spoke in the same cadence.
The first game of the season was against none other than Boston College, which had managed to admit the most egotistical students to the school. Fuckers.
Mack shrugged, shooting a few pucks over to Aiden. “He’s got a point. You better not be this locked out come Saturday. I will personally have your head off if you are. So will Coach, you know that.”
Coach Kells had a stick up his ass on the daily, and the entire team was beginning to think they should just set him up with the nice lady from the library. Maybe he wouldn’t be so miserable all the time.
An hour later, they were packing up to head back to the dorms, bags of gear slung over their worn-out shoulders. Mack and Aiden bid the other two farewell as they took the route to the other dorm building, leaving Fraser and Mason to walk silently, side-by-side.
“Excited for the season opener?” Fraser mumbled the words as he kicked a stone, trying to ignore the aching pain in his legs from doing laps for three hours.
Mason nodded, a smile growing as he opened his mouth to shit on the rival school as usual.
“We’re gonna blow them out of the water, trust me. With the lineup we have this year, it’d be impossible not to. Plus, do you really think they’d have anyone better?”
Fraser shrugged.
“Well, they do have the same amount of Hobey Baker awards as us. And way more NCAA scoring champs. And-”
“Okay, okay, shut up. We’ll win. That’s all that matters.”
The dorms were quiet this time of night; it’d be a concern if they weren’t, especially on a Thursday of all days. The RAs were passed out too, with not too much concern for late-night parties on a weekday.
Fraser was going to apply to join them, but he figured a chance at being a captain for the team would take priority. He’d always been great at managing multiple things at once, which was why he was majoring in one of the heaviest subjects BU had to offer, as well as doing a minor in linguistics.
He had a lot on his plate, in short.
Besides, hockey would be enough to deal with. He was pretty sure Coach Kells had taken a bit of a liking to him, considering he made him an Alternative Captain before the season even began. Fraser knew he was good at hockey, and he always had, but something like that would come as a surprise to anyone. So, the next thing on his list would be to make captain. Sorry, Aiden.
Both he and Mason slumped into their beds as soon as they were showered and in clean clothes that didn’t smell like the rink. He put his airpods in, not feeling too keen on listening to his dormmate snore through the night as usual. He needed to get a good night's rest if he wanted a chance at excelling on this quiz.
He wasn’t sure why his international relations class had assigned so much work in the first month or so; he’d heard from both Mack and Mason that their classes were a breeze. It wasn’t like it bothered him that much, though. Fraser had always enjoyed academics, and he’d already read through a good portion of the textbook.
Opening Apple Music, he chose his usual playlist assigned for sleep, and soon enough, the angelic sounds of blue whales in the Pacific were filling his ears. It would be an hour of this, followed by six hours of white noise, which should end just before he wakes up for the day.
It was perfect, and he’d followed this routine for the past five years. Thanks for your genius, 14-year-old Fraser.
Friday, October 6, 2023
Practice went fine the next day, as did his quiz. Adding up the marks he was certain about, he was expecting at least a 93%, which would be a great start to the semester.
The team invited him to Subway to grab lunch afterwards to discuss the game the next day. Mason insisted on walking there with him to “get relationship advice”, which they both knew was just about the girls he wanted to hook up with.
“Okay, but, hear me out. Char, from Mack’s Comms class. Ah? Ah? Am I on to something here, man?” Mason was still waffling as they walked through the doors to Subway, and Fraser was doing his best to act interested. It somehow hadn’t quite clicked to Mason that he wouldn’t have the best takes on which girls were pretty.
He had come out to him as gay the day they were assigned as dormmates on the way to the library, but either Mason was incredibly dense or just didn’t really care.
“She’s pretty," he grinned politely, making panicked ‘help me’ eyes at Mack from across the shop.
"Yeah, she is. I reckon I could bag her, I mean, have you seen me?”
He was cut off by a firm hand landing on Fraser’s back, making the pair jump before realising it was just another bloke on the team handing what seemed like $40 over to Fraser.
“Go crazy. It’s on me, pre-game tradition for the rookies.”
Fraser smiled up at him, nudging Mason as they walked over to order before sitting down with his wrap in hand. No sauce, of course. Only lettuce, tomato, chicken, and cheese.
"Alright, boys. First game of the season tomorrow; here’s what our lines are looking like.”
A piece of paper was slid into the centre of the table, allowing everyone to take a look and have a quick chat before the plan was laid out to them.
Fraser had to admit, this guy was painfully irritating to listen to, and he was zoning out before he knew it. He’d just ask Aiden for the details later on.
His eyes drifted around the shop as customers kept filing in, all in their own little bubbles. That was until they landed on what seemed to be a fellow hockey player. Not from the Terriers, of course, but maybe a smaller team around the area. He looked a bit shorter than most of the guys on his team, but considering everyone was at least 6’1, that wasn’t too surprising.
He was wearing a Blackhawks jersey, too. Huh. Strange to see that in central Boston, but alright.
His hair was a little messy on the top, and short around the sides; the dirty blonde waves suited him. What stood out the most to Fraser, though, was a shiny golden chain tucked slightly below the collar of the jersey, catching the light. That suited him too. Everything did. He was perfect, in all honesty.
He also had a small cut on his nose from what could be assumed to be a fight on the ice, and partnered with the bruises on his knuckles, that seemed plausible.
Just as he was beginning to order, Baines, one of the goalies at the table, yelled over to him.
“Hey, Bedard! Bit far from home, no?”
The other guys laughed and jeered alongside him, chirping at the man he presumed was Bedard.
Fraser turned to Aiden, speaking silently enough for just the both of them to hear.
“Who’s that?”
Aiden rolled his eyes.
“Connor Bedard. Newest Captain of the Eagles. Such an asshole. We met him at a party last week; he didn’t even apologise when he spilt his drink on me.”
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
He was admiring some guy from BC.
He was admiring an Eagle.
He was admiring the fucking captain of their biggest rivals.
Shit.
Fraser quickly took another bite of his wrap, trying to ignore the chirping as much as possible to not seem like a total asshole. But when he glanced up again, Bedard was making his way over and all Fraser could process was how nice that chain looked around his neck.
“Fuck off, Baines. Your girlfriend was a bit far from home last night when she was in my bed.”
The Subway suddenly filled with yelling as Baines stood up to push Bedard away, sending his sandwich tumbling to the ground just near Fraser’s right foot.
“Don’t fucking talk about my girl, dipshit!”
Before he knew it, both Baines and Bedard were being dragged away by what appeared to be the manager, who was already starting to scold them. It was only then that Fraser realised just how loud everything was and how hot the entire shop was. Suddenly, he was aware of Aiden sitting too close. Then his ears were ringing. He shifted his foot to then feel Bedard’s sandwich squelch under it. Someone was saying his name. The chicken in his mouth felt like it was too big of a bite even though he’d chewed most of it already.
Breathe, Fraser. Breathe.
He took a long, shaky breath in, fixing his eyes on the Subway logo on the napkin in front of him.
It’s fine, Minty. Just breathe. You’re okay.
He thought he’d got rid of this. Of these… moments he had when it got too much. Bryce told him how he learnt to work through his, but it never seemed to work for Fraser. Sometimes he wondered if they were even experiencing the same thing.
Picturing Bryce helping him calm down was the only way to stop it, as far as he was concerned. It worked, but it took a while.
Whatever, he’d figure it out eventually.
Snapping back into reality, he’d realised it was Mason saying his name, a worried look on his face as the other guys had gone back to their own conversations.
“Yo, dude, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Fraser put on his most convincing smile, nodding as he answered.
“Yeah, all good. I just need some fresh air.”
He was standing up before he could properly process, grabbing his bag and wrap and heading to stand outside in the cool air.
Much better.
To his surprise, it was only Baines who’d been shunned from the general perimeter of the shopfront.
Bedard was standing right next to him when he actually took a look around, and their eyes met. His were almost the same shade as Fraser’s, aside from the stronger blue staring back at him.
He knew that when you came face-to-face with a shark, you should aim for the eyes and gills and swim away as fast as possible without turning your back, but what to do when standing face-to-face with your supposed arch-rival wasn’t in the guidebook.
Did he walk off? Go back inside? Ask how his day is so far? Offer a bite of his wrap? Call him an asshole?
“You new to the Terriers?"
That wasn’t what he expected.
Fraser took another bite, nodding and trying to avoid speaking to the enemy.
Bedard nodded slowly, taking a hit from the cigarette in his left hand that Fraser hadn’t noticed beforehand.
“Same. Well, not the Terriers, but the Eagles.”
Fraser nodded again. Prolonging chewing was harder than he expected.
“Your team joining you soon? I’d like to leave before I get jumped.”
He forced the smile creeping on to his face away as fast as he could, finally swallowing the bite he had taken earlier.
“No, I’m just getting some air. It was hot in there.”
“You’re wearing a t-shirt. It snowed last night. How are you overheating in a Subway?"
Stop asking questions.
“Ah, you know us Canadians. Constantly too hot,” he made some strange hand gesture that just made him look like an uncoordinated pirate.
Bedard smirked.
“Vancouver?”
“Oh, uh, yes. How did you know that?”
“I’m from the North. I recognise a hometown accent when I hear one.”
Great.
As he opened his mouth to reply, the main door suddenly opened with Mack stepping out, his eyes darting between Fraser and Bedard before settling directly on Fraser.
“Minty, we’re heading off soon. Did you want to grab a cookie for later? I know you like them.”
Fraser stuttered through a nod.
“I’ll– uhm– yeah, just– give me a second.”
Mack smiled, turning to head back inside with a small wave. Fraser looked back over his shoulder at Bedard, who was already starting to walk off, stomping his cigarette on the ground with a grin.
“Catch you later, Minty.”