Another day of break, Bombay had called a team meeting that afternoon and so Dean had asked Cassie to meet him in his room to 'have a talk'.
Safe to say she was shitting herself as she knocked on his door.
Dean Portman looked horrific. Deep purple bags had formed under his eyes from the nights he spent tossing and turning, his mind consumed by the vision of Cassie lying motionless in that sterile room.
"Hey."
"Hey." Dean said breathily, still holding onto the doorknob as he leaned his tired, hunched body on the wood of the frame.
"Can I come in?"
"Oh!" He rubbed his eyes with his left hand. "Sure." He stepped aside to let the girl in, eyes watching her every movement like a hawk. Dean let the door swing shut carelessly and was immediately by Cassie's side with his muscles tensed and hands slightly angled towards her.
When she got to his bed he took her crutches and lay them near her before taking hold of her oh-so-gently and lowering her onto the oddly neat bed. He was acting like she was made of china and could break at any moment.
Though in her eyes, she already was.
"So how'd you find the game?" Dean's gaze stayed fixed on the floor while his hands bunched and unbunched the sheets under him.
"Good." Her answer was short but sweet. Cassie wiggled a bit and stared out of the window, the tension in the room so thick you could cut it with a knife.
"Some weather we're having, huh?"
"Dean." Cassie whipped her had to face him. "I know you didn't ask me here to talk about the weather." She reached out and placed her hand lightly on top of his. "What's wrong?"
Dean lifted his gaze to stare at her hand upon his. His mouth had dropped open slightly, almost as if he had been expecting something different. The boy tore his eyes from the girl next to him and returned them to the messy floor. A thought crossed his mind that he and Fulton would have to clean up all their clothes soon.
Cassie, on the other hand, did not stop looking at Dean. She would sit here for the next thirty years until she got her answer. She closed her hand around his and gave him a weak smile when he met her eyes for a second time.
"Hey." The blonde whispered gently. "You don't have to tell me y'know, I just want to know if you're okay."
"I am." Cassie knew Dean was lying immediately by the way his jaw tensed, so she reached out with her free hand and gently smoothed her thumb over his cheek, turning his head more to face her.
"No I'm not." He finally admitted. Dean's eyes screwed up to stop the inevitable influx of tears, though one lone one escaped and made its lonely path down his face.
"It's my fault this happened to you. Fulton and I said we'd protect you on the ice and then I couldn't control my stupid temper." Dean clenched his fist that wasn't currently enveloping Cassie's. "I was just stood there watching them hurt you and I couldn't do anything. I could have been out there and I could have stopped them then this wouldn't have happened."
The boy wrenched his hand from the grip of his companion and pressed the heel to his eye, followed by his other in yet another futile attempt to keep the tears in. Dean curled in on himself and let the floodgates open as sobs wracked his body. All the while he was repeating the same three words over and over like a mantra.
"It's my fault, it's my fault, it's my fault."
Cassie wordlessly pulled Dean into a hug, the boy turning into her and encircling the girl's waist in a tight response. She felt her shirt dampen more and more with each passing second as the boy finally let himself cry.
