The Minnesota Miracle [kirill kaprizov]

Chapter Twenty

« Не вижу преград, хотя есть одна...Почему так хорошо? Тоска. »
— Молчат Дома

I got home and angrily tossed my keys and lanyard onto the counter.

I wasn't sure when Kirill was going to get home, but I thought I would take the opportunity to take a shower and work on some homework.

I ended up sitting up by Anthony and Story after Kirill's ejection, and they could tell I was extremely bothered by the ejection.

I grabbed some comfortable clothes to change into and headed back downstairs to the bathroom. I took off my clothes and hopped into the shower.

During the shower, I was thinking about the Vikings game that was this Sunday against the Detroit Lions at U.S. Bank Stadium. I know I mentioned that I would like to take Kirill to an American football game, but it would only be if the Wild had a small homestand or something similar.

Since Kirill will be home until he's served his suspension, maybe it'll get the sense knocked into him watching players purposely hit each other for a brown, oval ball.

Or he can just stay home and think about what he has done. Things in the NHL are different in the KHL, and I hope he knows that, considering he's been playing in the NHL for the last three years.

After about a refreshing fifteen minute shower, I got out and did my nightly skincare routine, which just consisted of anti-acne cream and oily skin protection.

As I was finishing up, I heard the apartment door open and close with force, causing the room to shake just a little bit.

I finished up, grabbed my phone, and left the bathroom.

Kirill was standing in front of the sliding doors to the patio, looking out into the black sky with bright, shining stars scattered all across. It was almost like you spilled some grains of salt onto a black sheet of construction paper.

I frowned and grabbed something from the fridge.

He turned his head to look at me in guilt, displeasure, and dismay.

"I'm very sorry about tonight," he said as he walked over to the island and leaned forward with his hands planted to the countertop.

I didn't even look back at him while I pressed the buttons on the microwave to heat my food up.

He sighed. "I don't even know what happened," he said.

I turned around in disbelief. "What the hell do you mean 'you don't know what happened'?! You know what happened, Kirill. I came to watch you play a full game, not a fucking boxing match where you get ejected first thing in the second period!" I angrily shouted. "I know that missed cross-checking call irritated you. It irritated me as well as a fan and supporter of you. But you can't just go all out right away. That's how people get hurt. Look at the Avalanche defender getting the care he needed during the game. Now look at you, scuff marks on your face and bruises on your cheeks because you had to be so goddamn stupid!"

His face started to redden even more as his frown lowered in even more guilt.

"Is this allowed in the KHL in Russia? Be honest, Kirill. Is purposely hurting another player allowed over there?" I asked him.

He didn't respond.

I sighed to hopefully keep myself calm. "That's what I had thought." I told him as I turned around at the sound of the beeping microwave.

I took out the food and set it on the counter.

Kirill comes up to me. I glared at him as he tried to put his hand on my shoulder, which I just brushed off.