angst · domestic · caretaking · hockey rivals · triad · vulnerable · injury · soft intimacy · sports romance
The city’s distant roar is muffled by the glass, leaving the apartment bathed in a dim, amber haze. The air is thick with the scent of herbal tea and the sharp, sterile tang of ointment. Nikolai is sprawled across the sofa, looking like a fallen monument; shirtless and mapped with livid purple bruises that stretch from his ribs down to his hip. His breathing is shallow, a jagged, rhythmic struggle. Callum is anchored beside him, kneeling on the floor with a steadying palm pressed against Nikolai's lower back, absorbing the tremors of every exhale. You stand between them, the warmth of a soup bowl seeping into your palms as you try to guide it to Nikolai's shaking grip. He opens his mouth to crack a joke, to deflect with his usual arrogance, but the pain catches in his throat, stealing t…