Post Olympic

Shaky

OKAY OKAY PAY ATTENTION UP HERE 

'TWISTED' THE FIRST SECTION, WAS GOING TO GET DELETED, BUT, I DECIDED NOT TO AT THE LAST SECOND, READ IT BECAUSE IT'S GOT A GOOD LIFE LESSON, SORRY.

ALSO - - - - - - - I want y'all's to take a massive intermission between these because my lord. 

Music:
twisted: I'm Not Okay - Weathers
shaky: i'm in love without you - FINNEAS

TWISTED

Sauerkraut takes him to the ground on the very first hit. Hadley slaps the side of the rink. "What the hell is wrong with him?" I shake my head as the refs pull them apart. I've seen the headlines. Turtle boy get in two fights in the same week. And Von Albrecht breaks the longest fight-less streak in Wolves history with back-to-back matches.

"Get him off." Hadley growls. Sauerkraut has re-busted his lip and it's bleeding like hell. "Just get him off."

"Should he serve...?" Jorgen suggests.

"No. Fix that lip. I'll talk to him after the game, Nico can you yell at him for now?" Hadley is stressed.

"Yeah, I can do that." I scoff.

Sauerkraut heads straight for the locker room. I lean against the wall while Jorgen looks at his lip and decides on just a butterfly stitch on it.

Then Jorgen leaves, giving me a long look on his way out.

It's just me and him.

I take a long breath and push off the wall, walking over to Fenrir. He gets up to go, grabbing his helmet.

"Sit the hell back down." I grab him by the front of his jersey and shove him back onto the bench. The tension in the room feels heavy and thick. Like I'm breathing through a rag and struggling.

"What do you want from me." He doesn't look at me. I stand above him.

"I want to know why you're fighting." I grab a folding chair and sit in front of him like a guy would. My legs on either side of the back of the chair. I lean up against the metal.

"I don't know." He scoffs.

"Well, then we're going to sit here until you figure it the fuck out, that sound good to you?" I'm being as damn harsh as I can be even though I want to hug him and tell him it will be fine.

"Can't we just talk? Please?" He lifts his head to me. I raise my eyebrows.

"No." I deadpan. We can't, we can't, we can't, we can't. "If this is about me and you, get over it. All you're doing by fighting is showing me that you can't handle your emotions."

"I can, I swear."

"Sauerkraut, you're just making me think that you use physical contact to prove a point. It's not cute." I stand up out of the chair. "So I'll say it again. If this is about me and you, forget it."

"Why, Nico, why." He looks up at me.

"You know damn well why." I start to pace, restless, pissed off, a little bit torn up.

"What about you?" he looks up at me. "Please tell me that you feel just as shitty."

"I do. But listen," I lean on the door. "I'm fine."

"Nico, I just want to talk this out with you, I didn't mean anythi-"

"Your best bet right now is to grow up. Show me you're an adult. You're 23. Act like it."

"Nico," he looks away. "How do I do that."

"That's for you to find out. I can't tell you how to mature. That's something you have to do for yourself. I'm not your therapist. I'm not going to give you validation and mental help that you can give yourself."