Neon

one

'Nordiques Garçon D'or Styles traded to Manhattan Phantoms in exchange for forward Valeri Niskala'

The breaking news notification flashed across the top of Harry's phone screen, and he quickly swiped it away, not needing any more details on what was quickly becoming his reality.

He had known this was coming for a while. The last time he had stepped on the ice in Montréal he had been getting booed off, his head hung in disappointment after another playoff journey was cut short. He had spent the season either fighting an injury or fighting his coach, and he felt almost relieved to have the weight of it all off his shoulders.

It wasn't long before the text messages poured in, his teammates and family in disbelief that after ten years Harry was no longer a Nordique. He swiped away on the messages as soon as they came in, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of reading everyone's sad messages.

When the messages started to become overwhelming, he moved to put his phone on Do Not Disturb, but was too late when the screen went black and his teammates - well, former teammates - name popped up. Harry exhaled sharply before he put the phone up to his ear.

"Oui?"

"Mon Dieu," Kaspars Mathiew responded as soon as he heard Harry's voice. "How are you doing, Mon Ami? I-I'm blindsided. You are the Montréal Nordiques, the Golden Boy."

Harry exhaled again, trying to collect his thoughts. He didn't have the heart to tell his closest friend he had known this was coming for weeks. Not after he could hear the heartbreak in his voice.

"They don't want me," was Harry's response, his lip quivering at the final word.

"Why are you saying such things? You are our captain!"

Harry could tell that Kaspars was smoking a cigarette, and the man's shaky exhales made him smile for the first time that day.

"I'm approaching thirty and they're worried about my persistent injuries. The entire city of Montréal wants to parade my head around on a stake because their Garçon D'or can't give them a Stanley Cup. Let's face it, Coach Delphine can't stand me either."

Kaspars laughed, knowing Harry was right. They had spent the majority of the season screaming at each other, disagreeing over plays and basically anything team related.

"Mon Ami, I cry for you," Kaspars sighed, the sadness dissipating for a moment. "The Manhattan Phantoms, eh? You'll finally win your Stanley Cup."

Harry smiled at the thought. "I dream of it, Mon Ami."

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A HUGE welcome, and thank you so much for reading! I was currently writing another piece, Ever Since New York, when this idea hit me one night and it's consumed me ever since. I definitely will return to ESNY eventually, as I have most of it written already, but for now I'm very excited to give you Neon.

Disclaimer: I took seven years of French, but French Canadian and formal French are very different so mistakes most likely will happen. If you catch anything wrong, please let me know!