The Sweetest Save

Loss (Again)

The horn sounded, and Tuure Raskinen dropped his stick to the ice in disbelief.

It was over. It was all over. The Maple Leafs had lost the seventh and final game on home ice, scoring only one goal that was no match for the Blues' four, and the St. Louis Blues had won their first Stanley Cup in franchise history.

Tuure stared, immobilized by his shock, as his favorite team was crowned as the Official 2019 Stanley Cup Champions mere minutes after defeating the team for which he played.

He felt someone bump into his left side lightly, but the movement didn't startle him like it usually would. All he could do was feel numb.

"You did amazing," Alexej whispered into his boyfriend's ear. "We lost because of bad defense. I know you tried your best."

"No," Tuure huffed, and it was clear that he was on the verge of tears. "No, I didn't. This is the second championship that I've lost for this team. The fans hate me, and I'm terrible."

"Don't talk to yourself like that," Alexej scolded, bumping his mask against Tuure's. "You are a wonderful goaltender, and I couldn't be more proud to be your backup and your boyfriend. Esteri is so happy to be your daughter. She told me earlier that she doesn't care about the final score of the game, she only cares that you tried your best."

"Trying my best doesn't win Cups, apparently," Tuure grumbled. Alexej could tell that Tuure was in a bad mood, and Alexej knew that when his boyfriend was in a bad mood, it was best to just not bother him.

Alexej stayed close to Tuure as the younger goaltender stalked off the ice, but he kept his mouth shut. He watched Tuure sit down, take off his helmet, and throw it at the wall so hard that he could hear it crack.

He sat in his designated stall, which was directly to the left of Tuure's stall, and started to rub his back gently. Tuure looked up slowly, the pain of losing clearly visible in his eyes.

Alexej gently kissed Tuure's cheek, tasting the distinct saltiness of a tear that indicated that Tuure was crying. Slowly, Alexej pulled away.

"You don't need to cry," Alexej assured him. "I know it hurts to lose and I know you're angry at yourself, but our loss was not your fault whatsoever. It was a lack of offense and a bad defense that just couldn't keep it together. You let in some goals, sure, but the rest of the team just left you in the dust. It wasn't fair."

Tuure stayed silent as the tears continued to stream down his cheeks. Alexej moved over to Tuure's stall, sitting in the other goalie's lap to avoid crushing him against the wall. Alexej embraced Tuure, burying his face in the other man's jersey and ignoring the strong stench of sweat.

Eventually, Tuure shifted awkwardly, and Alexej stood.

Tuure looked up at him. "Thank you."

Alexej combed Tuure's hair, which was tangled and messy after sixty straight minutes of playing intense hockey, and smiled.

"I want you to be happy and smiling," said Alexej. "It's one of my favorite things. It makes my day."

Tuure blushed and tried to hold back his grin, but he couldn't do it.

"There's a smile," Alexej smirked. "Well, let's get ready. After we shower and get dressed, we can go home and sleep as late as you want. God knows you need rest."

"Thank you," Tuure's voice cracked as it came out. Alexej's relaxing words had calmed him, but he couldn't ignore the pain that still remained in him. His chest, which was hurting and tight, made him feel as if he was having a heart attack.

He rushed through taking a shower as he heard the rest of his teammates come in and start complaining about the final result of the match. Toweling off and wrapping the towel around his waist, he walked wordlessly into the locker room.

Ignoring the eyes on him, he sat down and started to dress himself.

The frustrated coach sternly told his team every last thing they could have done better in detail. Every word felt like a knife stabbing Tuure through his vulnerable heart. Alexej watched with sad eyes as his boyfriend's spirit was shattered into more and more pieces with everything that Coach Campbell said.

Tuure pulled a Team Finland sweatshirt over his head and quickly put a pair of gray sweatpants on. Once he was fully dressed, he extended his hand out towards Alexej, who took the hint. Hand in hand, they left the locker room without speaking a word.

Esteri, Tuure's thirteen-year-old daughter, had come to the game with her aunt Sara, who was her mother's younger sister. The girls were waiting in the hall for the guys. Esteri looked up momentarily and caught a glimpse of two figures approaching her and her aunt. A few seconds later, she recognized them as her father, Tuure Raskinen, and his boyfriend, Alexej Hašek.

"Dad! Alexej!" She exclaimed with a smile that quickly faded when she saw the dejected expression on her father's face.

Tuure forced a pained smile as he faced his daughter. "Esteri! Hello. Sara, it's good to see you."

Sara acknowledged him politely with a head nod, but she could tell something was off. "Tuure, you don't look so good."

"I just lost the fucking Stanley Cup, of course I don't look good!" Tuure shouted furiously, then backed away. "I'm sorry, Sara. I didn't mean to yell at you like that."

Sara, although startled, patted Tuure's shoulder empathetically. "I understand. Let's all go home now, alright?"

"Alright," Tuure agreed. He followed the sister of his late best friend out of the arena, trailed by his boyfriend and daughter.

Alexej looked down at the floor, his hands in his pockets. The loss of the Stanley Cup was indeed upsetting. Although it did not upset him as much, seeing as he was the backup, it still stung. Getting so close to the ultimate victory and then not achieving it isn't fun.

He also didn't like to see Tuure so upset. Alexej loved Tuure with his whole heart, and he hated it when Tuure was angry, sad, or frustrated. Tonight, the Leafs' main goaltender seemed to be all three at once. When Alexej looked into Tuure's heterochromatic, grey-hazel eyes, he saw nothing but pain, shame, and embarrassment.

He hated that sight.

To try to lighten the mood, he hugged his boyfriend as soon as they reached the car.

"It's not the end of the world," he said. "You did amazing, and with the way you played, I know we'll win the Cup at some point in the future."

And for the first time that night, Tuure's face lit up with a genuine smile.

Maybe loss isn't all bad.