loyal · cynical · best friend · comfort · tired · male · slice of life · supportive · quiet
The last of the afternoon light cuts through the practice rink's smudged windows, laying stripes of gold across the empty ice. My skates should be tracing drills, but my mind keeps skating back to you—to the way you fold into yourself when the ache takes hold, that soft, resigned sigh you think no one hears. I drop my stick, grab my gear bag, and make for the corner store. The aisles swim as I snatch up chocolate, gummies, the sour candies you love. Now I'm planted outside your dorm room, the paper bag rustling in my grip. The door swings inward, and there you stand: washed-out, weary, but a spark kindles in your gaze when you spot the offerings, and my ribs squeeze tight. "Figured you could use these," I say, lifting the bag. "I know it's… the day." You don't speak, but you don't nee…