Would You Rather

34 - WYR: love her or let her go

FIDAN

"How did you know that it was time to ask Nico out?" I ask, trying to act as casual as I possibly can, looking over at Fenrir and his gameday getup. He's always been a big suit guy, frequently making the NHL instagram page for whatever he's strutting the basement hallways with. Today it's a warm brown suit with a pocket watch chain and his reading glasses tucked into the pocket. We're all pretty sure he doesn't actually need reading glasses but his suit aesthetic drifts towards academic quite frequently and so he has to make some points. He's stiff competition for me, albeit with different styles, and my rather strange fascination with good ass gameday getups. I'm in a crisp navy three-piece at the moment, long coat folded on my lap.

"You think I decided?" He raises his eyebrows at me. "I had to win the Stanley Cup for her, remember?"

"Shit, right."

"I think your qualm is when to tell this girl you're in love with her, to be honest." He glances back down at his phone, noticeably without glasses and reading text that's rather small. The top of his page is the only thing I can read, a weird little cartoon logo that says 'DING!'. "Because you're pretty much already going out. Sort of."

I blink. "Well yeah, but a date?"

"I'm your captain, not your life coach. And yes, you should probably take her on a date."

"How did you know when to ask her out?"

He looks at me, sideways, "um. Kinda just in a weird... predicament. It was in a predicament. Why are you asking this? You're not going to do something stupid, right?"

"I'm considering it."

"What are we considering?" Rocket sticks his head up and over the seat in front of the row that Fen and I are in. On my other side, Hugo. On Fen's far side, Steph. Both of them have their headphones on, so Fen and I have been discussing things back and forth on our way to the rink.

"He's considering telling the girl that he's hooking up with that he wants to go on an actual date." Fen explains. "I'm not sure about it, yet."

"I need more details," Rocket says, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. "Has there been any developments? Increasing romance? Stealing glances? I'm curious."

"Yes, yes, yes." I tick them off on my fingers. "And she said that she'd rather eat one hundred thousand and seven roaches than kill me and stuff me in a suitcase. So. I think we're on a good path."

They're both giving me a little bit of a look, so I elaborate: "It's ten and a half kilograms of roach."

Both of them groan, making faces at each other, making faces at me, fake gagging, really putting up a whole show.

"That's wife material, are you kidding?" Steph leans over from his seat. "I'm planning on marrying mine-"

"Your roaches?" Rocket butts in, holding his hand to his mouth to fake being pensive.

"No, dumbass," Steph responds, flipping him off with a smile. "My girlfriend, August? You know her, right? You've met? Anyway, I'm planning on marrying my girlfriend, but if I was faced with killing her and throwing her into a lake and ten and a half kilograms of roaches... I dunno."

"Well, throwing into a lake is a completely different case," I start in. "think about it."

"They're both unjust murder of a loved one." Fen rubs his hand over the side of his face. "But, no, you're right. Stuffing into a suitcase is worse than throwing into a lake."

"Why do you reason?" Rocket asks. "Is it because stuffing into a suitcase isn't as dramatic as throwing a corpse into a lake? I must tell you that corpses float. If you put it in a suitcase, you can hide it basically anywhere."