Riley and Val oneshots

Don't go yet

Val had always been the kind of person everyone gravitated toward. In the ice hockey camp, she was a star both on and off the rink. She was popular, not because she sought attention, but because her laid-back attitude, sharp sense of humor, and effortless charm made her magnetic. She loved to practice early in the mornings, relishing the quiet before the chaos, and enjoyed the feeling of ice beneath her skates as the sun slowly rose, casting a golden hue over the rink.

Riley had always admired Val. They were close friends, both passionate about hockey, and Val's easygoing demeanor had a way of brightening Riley's often goofy nature. Together, they shared laughter, practiced drills, and talked late into the night about their dreams of making it big in the sport they both loved.

But all that changed the day Val got the diagnosis.

Cancer.

At first, Val hadn't even believed it. It seemed like some cruel joke. She was young, healthy, strong—how could this happen to her? But reality hit hard as she sat in that cold, sterile hospital room, the doctor's words ringing in her ears. And just like that, everything changed.

The vibrant, confident Val who had once been the heart of the hockey camp disappeared. In her place was someone angry, bitter, and filled with a rage she couldn't control. She stopped skating. She stopped smiling. She stopped being the Val that Riley had known.

Riley had tried to help at first, tried to cheer her up with jokes and their usual banter, but Val had shut her out. Every attempt to lighten the mood was met with cold indifference or a sharp, sarcastic remark.

"You don't get it, Riley," Val snapped one day after Riley had suggested they go for a skate. "You don't know what it's like to feel your whole life being ripped away from you, so stop pretending you do."

Riley had been stunned by the harshness in her friend's voice. Val never used to speak like that. But lately, all Val seemed to do was swear and push people away. She was angry at the world, angry at herself, and most of all, angry at the unfairness of it all.

She became reckless, lashing out at everyone around her. During practices, she'd pick fights with other players, cursing under her breath and storming off the rink when things didn't go her way. Her once tight-knit group of friends began to drift away, unable to handle the constant negativity.

But Riley wasn't ready to give up on Val.

One evening, after another difficult day at camp, Riley knocked on Val's door. She wasn't sure if Val would even let her in, but to her surprise, Val opened the door, looking worn out and distant.

"What do you want, Riley?" Val asked, her voice flat.

"I just want to talk," Riley said gently. "Please."

Val hesitated but stepped aside to let her in. The room was a mess—something else that had changed since the diagnosis. Val used to be so organized, so in control. Now, everything felt like it was falling apart.

They sat in silence for a while, neither knowing what to say.

"Why are you still here?" Val finally muttered, not looking at her. "Everyone else has bailed. I wouldn't blame you if you did, too."

Riley took a deep breath. "Because you're my best friend, Val. And I know you're going through hell right now, but I'm not going anywhere."

Val's shoulders sagged, and for the first time in weeks, her tough exterior cracked just a little. "I don't know how to deal with this, Riley. I don't know how to keep going when everything feels so... pointless."

Riley reached out and placed a hand on Val's. "It's not pointless. I know it feels that way, but you're still here. You're still you. And you don't have to go through this alone."

Val looked down at their hands, silent for a moment before speaking again. "I hate feeling weak. I hate that I'm scared all the time."

"You're not weak," Riley said firmly. "You're one of the strongest people I know. And it's okay to be scared. But that doesn't mean you have to shut everyone out."

Val's eyes filled with tears, something Riley hadn't seen in a long time. For so long, Val had been trying to be tough, to hide her fear behind anger and arrogance, but now it was all spilling out.

"I don't know how to be happy anymore," Val whispered, her voice trembling.

Riley squeezed her hand. "Then let's figure it out together."

The weeks that followed weren't easy. Val was still angry, still scared, but with Riley's constant support, she slowly began to open up again. Riley would drag her to the rink, even if Val didn't feel like skating, and little by little, Val found herself reconnecting with the sport she loved.

They'd skate early in the mornings again, just like before, when the world was quiet, and it was just the two of them gliding across the ice. Val started to joke again, though her humor was darker than it used to be, but it was a start.

Through it all, Riley never wavered. She stood by Val's side, encouraging her, making her laugh when she felt like giving up, and reminding her that life was still worth fighting for.

Eventually, Val began to smile more, to curse a little less. The weight of her diagnosis hadn't disappeared, but it no longer defined her. With Riley by her side, she started to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still joy to be found in the world, even in the face of something as terrifying as cancer.

And for the first time in a long time, Val felt hope.