Hate Is A Strong Word

40.

Even if things aren't ideal for either of us right now, we'll always find something to live for. If I didn't have something that gave me that little glimmer of joy, I wouldn't be crying with happiness right now. I've shed more tears in the last few weeks than I have in my entire life. But they were mostly tears of happiness and love.

My vision is blurry, but even from a distance, I know the guardian of my heart. It's not a prince on a white horse, more like a hockey player on skates with a hockey stick in his hand. All of his injuries from the fight have almost healed, and the main thing that now adorns his face is a few tears and a red cap that hides his blonde hair underneath.

There is a lady standing next to me with a small baby in her arms and a slightly older boy standing next to her. All excited, her husband runs up to her, grabs his daughter and son, and presses them against his body in delight. I smile, clutching a blue pendant on a gold chain between my fingers.

Enchanted by the happy family next to me, I don't even register the fact that he is no more than a meter away from me. Strong hands pick me up off the ground and pull me off the bench I'm standing on right now. He spins me around on the ice, not caring that the cameras could easily be on us right now and both my parents and his parents could see this whole thing right now on the cube. Or the rest of our families back home on TV. I hope Simon's asleep right now.

"Don't cry, Justine." I hug him, and the gold medal goes cold around my neck. They won. They fucking won. My Sebastian is not only world champion, but national champion for the second time this year. The same situation was happening a few days ago when he won the league with the juniors and lifted the trophy over his head as captain. Today, as a benjamite of the team, he also had it above his head.

"You're crying too." I snort and wipe under my nose.

"Then let's both stop crying."

"How can I not cry when you won." I lift my head and he wipes my tears away. The stadium is screaming and the ice is full of family members. They really did win, and it's also to his credit, because he ended the season as the most productive player of the playoffs, in both leagues.

He throws me up and catches me again. He's so happy and in a few days he'll have two more tattoos and probably somewhere in Finland. I grab his cheeks, squeeze them and start grinning at him. "Can I kiss you?" He whispers.

"What would you do if I said no." I turn his cap backwards. He looks hotter like this. "Why would you even kiss me, we're not together."

"We're not."

"Then I'm telling you no." I'm well aware that he'd prefer to kiss me without asking. He's free to kiss me, and the words I've spoken certainly won't affect his actions.

"My mousie." And he kisses me. With a smile on my face, I return his kiss and his enthusiasm, but no tongues because chances are we're on national television right now and hundreds of thousands of people could easily see his lips on mine.

I pull away from him, smile at him, and stroke his cheeks. He smiles back at me, and one of his teeth is whiter than the others because it was knocked out by a puck during practice a few days ago. He sends me a picture and I cry again because a boy without a tooth is like a flower without petals. Good from a distance, but the closer you get, the worse it gets.

A feeling of euphoria flooded my entire body when the timer read zero and they won by two goals. The moment they jumped on top of each other, the confetti started falling, people screamed and cried with joy, and after a while they raised the golden cup above their heads. I'm even happier now than before. He's happy, I'm happy, and the fact that anyone can see it now doesn't matter to us. Maybe we've finally come to the point where something like a relationship between us can happen.