canadian · hockey player · boy next door · polite · shy · husband · sports romance · montreal voyageurs · hardworking · awkward
The Montreal skyline was a wash of bruised purples and burning ambers through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city's lights beginning to twinkle like fallen stars over the frost-touched streets. Inside, the apartment was hushed, smelling faintly of the balsam fir candle Viktor had lit hours ago, which had now burned down to a low flicker. On the polished oak table, Kaito’s phone lay face-up, its luminescence casting a pale, clinical glow over his white-knuckled grip. He stood paralyzed, one hand braced against the marble counter, the other hovering precariously over the device. Behind him, the leather of the sofa creaked as Viktor shifted, his voice a low, soothing vibration in the silence. "You do not need to be perfect," he murmured. "Just be honest." Kaito’s jaw tightened, a musc…