Sean Avery: 
Erik Cole: 
I hate Valentine's Day. I really, really hate Valentine's Day.
For most people, Valentine's Day is a day for love and happiness and, well, sex. They buy each other gifts and go out to dinner and come home to steamy romantic evenings.
For me, Valentine's Day is a constant reminder that I am constantly alone.* That's what happens when you're in the NHL. And you're gay. Because they two things are supposed to be mutually exclusive. And I don't dare search for any sort of relationship. Not even in the anonymous bars I know exist.
I'm watching the Olympics now. Men's figure skating. I bet they're not afraid to be gay. Most of them are anyway, aren't they? Everyone expects male figure skaters to be gay. After all it's such a "girly" sport. Because quad twist thingies aren't difficult at ALL. How come it's ok for them but not ok for hockey players?
I sigh and shift on the coach. My muscles are sore. I ran a lot today. A whole lot. To get my mind off Valentine's Day. Which isn't particularly healthy, I know, but...I have to do something.
NBC goes to commercial and my mind wanders. I bet Valentine's Day is a good day for suicides. I bet a lot of people commit suicide on Valentine's Day. It's so depressing if you're alone. So very depressing. More figure skating. The skaters blur together. You could kill yourself, my mind whispers. So easy. I shut it up. I don't want to kill myself. I'm an NHL player. I'm a 21-year-old NHL player who just got called up permanently. Killing myself is the last thing on the agenda. No matter what that damn inner consciousness says. I didn't ask it, anyway. I smiled a little as I watched Timothy Goebel nail another quad spin thingy. At least someone was having a good day.
I took another sip of the beer on the end table, but I didn't feel like getting drunk. I don't escape by drinking, for the most part. I escape by punishing my body until my mind can't possibly think about anything else. I tried once, and it worked earlier today, but the feeling is wearing off. Maybe it's time to try again. I flipped off the TV and pulled myself to my feet. My running clothes were in a heap in the bathroom, and I pulled them on again. It didn't matter that they were slightly damp from the nearly freezing rain that had been falling this morning. Cold wasn't an issue for me.
The chill of the air hit me as I locked my door behind me and headed for the sidewalk. I was actually running in the grass between the street and sidewalk because it was less slippery. My body immediately fell into the pattern of movement, the routine. With every pounding step, I could feel the blood coursing the my veins, I could hear my heart pounding and my harsh breathing, I could taste the bitterness of adrenaline in my mouth. My mind blanked and I ran.
My body knew the circuit, and eventually, I ended up back in front of my house. It startled me out of my dazed state, and the sudden stop caused my muscles to cry out in pain. My breathing and heart rate neutralized rapidly, one of the perks of being an athlete, but my legs felt like jelly and climbing the stairs were difficult. My hand was one the doorknob, when I heard an all-too-familiar voice call my name. "Sean?"
I turned quickly. He was standing there holding a bag in one hand and flowers in the other. "Erik?" I went down the few steps I had climbed. "Erik, what are you doing here?"
He shrugged, the bag shifting on his shoulder. "We're on break. We've got a couple days before minicamp. It's Valentine's Day. I wanted to see you."
"Um. Erik. Let me point out that we are not in any sort of relationship, we've spoken like three times total, and you're straight."
He looked at me. "Jesus Christ, Sean, you look like you're going to collapse. You're freezing. Go inside." It wasn't like I had a choice, since he pushed me. I obliged, and he forced me into the other room to change clothes before he'd talk. When I came back, dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt, he had removed his coat and hat. And looked good. Really good. "Ok," he said to me. "To answer in reverse order. No, I'm not, those were three of the best conversations I've ever had with anyone, and ever since you came out to me two years ago at that minor league thing we were at, I've been in love with you. And I don't care if you don't feel the same, but I figured you could use the nice flowers and put a good friend up for the night."
I just stared at him, disbelieving. Erik liked me? Erik Cole, forward for the Carolina Hurricanes liked me? Was in love with me? Was that scary or good? My inner consciousness wasn't talking. He looked at me, and I could see the fear mixed in with the nonchalance in his expression. "Erik...of course I would."
"As a good friend, then." He sounded completely devastated.
"Nah, Colesy. You came all the way from Raleigh. I guess I can do better." He took a step, and then I did, and then our lips met and it was the best kiss I've had in a long time. A really long time. His body felt good against me, and for a moment I couldn't feel the fatigue of my body or mind, only his lips on mine, his hands lightly touching my hip and shoulder. We separated after a moment, and he gave me a cute half-smile.
"I didn't mean to come here, Ave. I didn't. I was just going somewhere because it's fuckin' Valentine's Day and I hate it, and I was so lonely that I had to find someone to be with, you know. Someone I at least cared about." I started laughing. I couldn't help it, but he had just put into words what I'd been feeling all day. And here I thought I was alone. "What's so funny," he asked warily.
I pulled him back to me. "Exactly. That's exactly what I've been feeling all day."
His eyes lit up. "So...what have you been doing today?"
I pulled him down next to me on the couch and flipped on the television. "This." We watched in silence as the medals were handed out to the figure skaters, and I couldn't help but smile at the ecstatic grins on the faces of Alexei Yagudin and Timothy Goebel. The silver medallist guy, who I thought of as Russian Elf 'cause he looks like one, wasn't showing any emotion.
"Russian Elf sure is stoic," Erik said, and I laughed again, then had to explain why again. "You know what that means, don't you? We're destined to, like, be together forever because we both call him Russian Elf."
I looked at him a moment. "I might could handle that."
He seemed taken aback, then a grin spread across his face, and we kissed again...in a much more serious manner. "It's good to see you," he whispered, his hand drifting dangerously low. God. I love Valentine's Day.