famous last words | s. crosby

11; sunday, june 12th.

Elliott's POV

I never knew watching someone you loved accomplish their dreams could be a dream within itself.

I sat, on the edge of my seat, watching— no, eyeballing— the obnoxious glowing red numbers count down from nine. Time couldn't move slower.

At the three seconds mark, I focused my attention to the 87 on the ice, until I heard that obnoxious buzzer fill the arena— meaning it was officially official; the Pittsburgh Penguins were the 2016 Stanley Cup Champions.

The wives and kids and girlfriends and mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters, who all conveniently sat huddled together, jumped up and celebrated at the sweet song of the final buzzer, almost as excited as their boys. We all hugged each other, feeling a strand of the same excitement happening down on the ice.

When the Conn Smythe trophy was presented; the room grew momentarily quiet as Gary Bettman spoke over the loud booing coming throughout the SAP Arena.

I, along with the rest of the Crosby family, restarted the loud cheering when they announced Sidney had won the Conn Smythe. I watched him smile, snap a photo, and take the trophy from the stand and place it to the side. That wasn't the main event; that wasn't the trophy he wanted.

When they brought out the 30-pound holy grail of the hockey community, even I found myself giddy about it. Everyone had the eyes of a child on Christmas morning. I got chills thinking about how hard each and everyone of the players had worked towards the one goal; something many of them would go on to do again, but some, may never see another.

It was truly a once-in-a-lifetime thing. It just, on occasion, like many other once-in-a-lifetime things, can happen twice. Or three times. Or, if you're really lucky, even four or five times.

It would be about 15 minutes until I was finally reunited with Sidney on the ice. When I finally made my way down, the chaos was unbelievable; smelly, sweaty, bearded and bloodied guys all cheering and hugging anyone who made eye contact with them.

It didn't take me long to spot the '87' among the likes of the men. Tears filled my eyes as I half-jogged, half-limped my way to him, catching myself on his chest after nearly slipping.

"You did it! Babe, you did it, I'm so proud." I laughed, immediately finding his lips met against mine. I was at a loss for words; I couldn't imagine how he was feeling. A photographer who began snapping various candids of the whole team snapped a picture of the moment.

He gave me another suffocating hug, practically lifting me from the ice momentarily as he bear-hugged me. He mumbled something to me, but I couldn't quite make it out.

"What was that?" I yelled.

He mumbled the phrase again.
I didn't understand him again.

"What?"

"I love you, Elliott. God, I love you, so much." Sidney yelled back, laughter sewn throughout his words. The whole night had seemed to go in slow motion; from the seconds ticking down on the clock, to the weeks of celebration that was in the future. I looked around at everyone with their families and children, swollen eyes and tears of joy staining their cheeks.

Looking around, I knew it was something I'd always remember. It was a sight to see.

I, too, cheeks stained with tears, let myself laugh, "Y'know what? I love you, too."

The rest of the night was filled with thousands of priceless pictures being snapped, including one with the cup and Sidney's family, drinks, and drunken singing to Queen's "We Are The Champions" and Hall and Oates's "You Make My Dreams" and celebrating the cup win.

It was around 3 A.M. in the morning when everyone finally decided that the partying could wait until the morning and retired to their rooms.

Sidney and I (and of course, how could anyone not mention; Stanley) shared a room that night.

The two of us, throats both sore from screaming and yelling, instantly collapsed onto the bed; I shoved my shoes off my feet and rolled over, greeted with Sid's disheveled face.

"You've got to shave that thing now, y'know." I whispered, a smirk creeping up on my cheeks.

"What?" He paused, bringing a hand up to his face and beginning to rub it, "You don't like it?"

"I mean—" I cocked my head to the side, getting as many other angles as I could, "It's not the worst thing that could happen. I guess it could be kinda hot, in a weird way."

We both erupted into a fit of laughter at ourselves; I sighed to catch my breath.

"What you said out there tonight, on the ice." I paused, shifting my weight onto my elbows and ever so slightly lowering my voice, "Did you mean it?"

"The 'I love you?'"

"Yeah. The 'I love you.'"

"Elliott, of course I meant it. I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't have meant it; you mean the absolute world to me. Sure, I won the Cup tonight, but what really made might night was seeing you down there on the ice, crippled leg and all." He paused, brushing a piece of hair out of my face, "Of course, that was a bit of an exaggeration. The Cup really, really made my night, but I can't constantly aggravate the Cup and have a future with the Cup. I don't think it's legal."

The two of us were silent for a moment. My phone buzzed against the wooden nightstand, but I let it ring. I let out another sigh.

"I love you, too, Sid. I honestly—" I paused, getting choked up as my words seemed to jumble up as they went out my lips, "I don't know where I'd be without you. I never imagined having someone else, another living, breathing human, I could be so utterly and pathetically in awe with. Not even like most little girls dream up their wedding day— I never had that. Never thought I would either, and then you changed it all; I went from this– this weird machine-like, emotionless skating machine to an actual human being when I met you."

By that point, I was half asleep and the drinks from earlier in the night had really gotten to me. I had no idea what was coming out of my mouth.

"Sid, I'm just– I'm so proud of you, y'know. It meant more to me watching you lift up that damned Cup than you'd realize. I love you."

I could feel my eyelids growing heavy as I kept my eyes glued to Sid. I kept muttering unintelligible words, both to myself and Sid.

As I fell asleep, I continued to hear my phone buzz against the hardwood.

I continued to ignore it.