Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
2016 - Spring - Crossing the Line Entry
Guarding the Line - 1. Chapter 1
Guarding the Line
He was in charge of holding the line. His comrades in arms were doing their best to hold off the offensive moves of the Raiders, but he was the last line of defense.
Brady's sharp eyes cut to his right for only a moment. Ryan. He knew exactly where he was. Waiting. Cheering. For him. His heart thundered in his chest.
Ryan. He didn't know what it was about the new kid, but Brady couldn't stop thinking about him. The shy teen had pushed every one of the desires Brady had kept carefully hidden behind the threshold of his virtual closet for the last few years. Desires he was sure his friends wouldn't approve of, would ridicule him for. He felt a pang of regret every time Ryan's eyes flickered with a moment of hope that Brady saw him as more than just a friend. But that was all they could ever be.
Because Brady knew another set of eyes was out there, watching as well. His father's. And those were eyes he could never bear to see distorted with disgust or disappointment.
The noise, loud and boisterous, was like minor buzzing in his ears compared to the thudding of his heart. His fists tightened on the stick in his hand, his eyes flicked back to the clashing of bodies—red slamming into silver. Then there was a breakaway. A streak of Raider silver flying towards him.
A second later the small black projectile was hurtled in his direction. Brady reacted on instinct, his thickly gloved hand striking out in the disk's path, stopping it dead, keeping it from crossing the line into his net. Silver swirled around him, hovering, swarming, waiting for another shot.
Brady dropped the puck back to the ice, slicing it neatly to his own defenseman Jake. A Raider tried to board him, but the puck was already gliding to the other side of the rink.
The game was nearly over. He'd managed once again to shut out the opposing team. He was good, and it showed every time he took to the ice. He'd even been offered scholarships at two schools, eliciting proud recitations from his father every time they were out to anyone who would listen. He lived for his father's praise, had grown up flourishing under the man's love for him. Brady couldn't risk losing that.
As the final buzzer sounded and his team flocked together in a mob of congratulatory bumps to the chest and thumps against their helmets, Brady chanced a long look at Ryan.
He had jumped up, pumping a celebratory fist in the air. Their eyes locked for a moment, even if Brady wasn't sure that Ryan could see his through his helmet's visor. God, how he'd miss seeing that smiling face after each game when he moved on to college.
Brady mindlessly went through the motions of the end-of-game rituals: handshaking the Raiders, thanking the refs, stripping and showering, a brief talk from the coach. Then he was pouring out of the locker room with his team to more cheers of waiting friends and family.
He caught the broad, proud smile of his father, standing tall over much of the crowd. He grinned and tipped his head at the man who'd raised him, nurtured his love of hockey. Edging his way through the crowd, Jake bumped his shoulder.
"Great game, man, as always!"
"Thanks, you too." Other teammates jostled by him, nudging their congratulations, and he returned them enthusiastically. His breath caught when he turned and found Ryan high-fiving Jake.
"Thanks, Ry!" Jake said, wrapping his arm around Ryan's slender shoulders. "But this is the man!" And Brady felt himself wrapped under Jake's other arm. "Brady is the best goaltender ever. Gonna miss you next year man."
Brady felt an irrational pang of jealousy at Jake's arm holding Ryan. His Ryan. His teeth clenched briefly before Ryan turned that amazing smile on him.
"He definitely is," Ryan agreed. "Congrats."
And suddenly Ryan's hand was there in front of him. Brady grasped it like a lifeline, yanking Ryan closer. His other arm slipped around Ryan's back, sliding over his shoulders. He managed to make it come across as a brotherly guy-clench, even though it lasted several seconds longer. "Thanks, Ryan."
Brady's eyes caught his father's over Ryan's shoulder, the grin faltering for a moment as a frown creased his forehead. Shit. Had his father noticed something? Had his face given away his desires? Had he hugged Ryan too long?
Brady quickly patted Ryan's shoulder as well as Jake's. He made sure he focused on Jake when he said his good-byes. "See you guys later."
"Bye, Brady. I'll catch you later?" Ryan's hand patted his bicep, lingering briefly. Brady tried to ignore the slight, hopeful squeeze Ryan gave him before Brady headed for his father.
"Uh, yeah, see ya," he called back, barely glancing over his shoulder.
His father's arms widened as he approached, a welcoming hug that Brady dove into. "Hey, buddy. Great game."
"Thanks, Dad."
His father gave him a tight squeeze and a quick kiss on his damp head, before they turned to head for the car. "I'm so proud of you."
Brady knew that. It was part of what ate him up inside. Would his father still love him, still be proud of him, if he knew he liked guys, liked Ryan?
"Yeah, I know, Dad." Why did he sound wistful, bitter? Because he knew his father's pride wouldn't extend to his son being gay?
"Hey, I'll always be proud of you, no matter what, okay?"
Brady glanced up. And for a moment it was as if his father had flung open the door to his virtual closet and silently invited him to step over the threshold from the darkness into the bright light of freedom.
"No matter what school you choose or what you decide to do in your life," his father continued.
But Brady was sure that didn't extend to being gay. His father wouldn't understand that, wouldn't see him as a man anymore. And the light was suddenly blinding, forcing him to retreat. Much like an opponent's shot at his goal, that was a line, a threshold, that he could never cross.
"Thanks, Dad." He mentally slammed the door shut on the light, focusing briefly on the beckoning line shimmering at the bottom, daring him to be brave enough to cross it.
He smiled briefly up at his father, turning deeper into the darkness, hiding, protecting what he had, sacrificing what could be. Sacrificing Ryan.
"Come on. I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."
- 40
- 4
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
2016 - Spring - Crossing the Line Entry
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