❝𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐒!❞ (HIATUS!)

𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞!

TW: this chapter contains mentions of mental illness, su1c1de, and tr@uma. please skip this chapter if you are not okay with the aforementioned <3

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

y/n never felt like they had a place inside the mighty ducks hierarchy. they weren't good enough of a player to be considered an asset to the team; and y/n didn't see themself as much help off the ice. of course, they never mentioned it to any of their friends. y/n was the one to cheer people up, to be their shoulder to cry on. but, they never considered that to be a stable placeholder.

these feelings worsened with their arrival at eden hall. tensions were high between them, (junior varsity,) and the varsity hockey team. the teachers had harsh criticism and high expectations, and the other students thought they were all dumb jocks. "it's like we're not even a full team anymore! jesse's gone, and so is portman! and banksie's being sucked in by varsity..." connie moreau admitted to y/n late one night, crying on their friend's lap. y/n agrees with her statement, it didn't feel like the ducks anymore. but, y/n simply wiped the tears from connie's face with a small smile on their face. they reply, "we'll make it through. we made it as district fivers, we made it as junior olympians. and we'll make it through this dumbass school." y/n continued to use that monologue whenever someone was down, it always seemed to boost the morale. the ducks were grateful to have someone like y/n l/n, their friend/personal therapist/teammate.

when adam banks walked out of the restaurant with the evil varsity jocks, it was y/n's last straw. they kneeled on the floor, humiliated, scrubbing at dirtied tile in their favorite outfit. what was left? connie and guy were constantly calling; ranting about whatever the other one did that pissed them off. charlie had just come back from going awol, (which helped a little, but not much.) bombay, jesse, and portman were all gone, and banksie had basically been kidnapped.

oh! and y/n's parents were nagging them about their grades. little did they know, y/n had been neglecting practice and lunch so they could catch up on work. then, coach orion got involved, and y/n just finished their academic probation. nothing felt right anymore. these weren't the ducks y/n were apart of when they were young. the kids who were full of life, and fire, who protected each other like wolves in a pack. the ones who were underdogs in every sense of the world, and the kids who finally made a name for themselves at an olympic level. y/n couldn't deal. so, after the horrible dinner, y/n walked home alone. normally, they'd have walked home with fulton and russ, (the plan was for both russ and dean to live at the reed house, but just russ followed through,) not tonight. y/n needed to be alone right now. while they journeyed home, their e/c eyes fell on the moon. bright, calming, important. that's how y/n wished to feel. "maybe i'd be better off as the moon..." they whisper into thin air, their legs giving out as y/n lays on the sidewalk. it's november, so the snow isn't as bad, and the chill soaks through y/n's already dirty clothes. and in that moment, y/n knew.

they got home late, slipping in silently as to not disturb their sleeping family. their bag hung on their usual chair at the table, fingers tracing over the wood carefully. y/n was memorizing their home, one last time. before y/n's last trip to their bedroom, they grab the bottle of unopened prescription cough syrup from the medicine cabinet. it was finn's, their older brother's, but he didn't need it. not now.

the yellowed lighting of their lamp made y/n's handwriting look unreal. but, most things felt unreal nowadays. "...wasn't your fault, banksie. i couldn't do it anymore, i can't do it anymore." they wrote, knowing that once the news hit, adam banks might not be able to live with himself. the letter entailed many things; memories from their d5 days, how they felt when they won against iceland. y/n made sure to mention hans, and how his death made everything different. how after the funeral, y/n started picking up on everything wrong. they thanked him for that revelation, and hoped he'd be waiting for them. signing off with their full name, (their middle name coming from their father's own middle name,) y/n didn't both kicking off the uncomfortable shoes on their feet. lying back on their bed, shaky hands fumble with opening the cough syrup. the first sip made y/n choke, the second evoked a grimace. it wasn't until their sixth or seventh large gulp that y/n's vision started playing tricks on them. soon enough, the bottle was empty, and y/n felt drunk. they let their eyelids close, and while they slowly slipped into oblivion, they thought of their family. their mom, their dad, their siblings, bombay, the bash bros, averman, the girls... everyone they ever loved. then, the pain eased. and it was dark.