The game had been brutal. The loss still burned in his chest like a fresh wound. The crowd had left hours ago, the noise replaced with a deafening silence that followed him everywhere. But the worst part hadn’t even been the defeat. It was what he’d seen after.

Her. His girlfriend. Pressed against the glass in the hallway. Laughing. And then—her lips on his opponent’s.

His stomach had dropped. Something inside him had shattered quietly, almost politely. No screaming match. No dramatic scene. Just one look between them afterward, filled with guilt on her side and disbelief on his. And it was over.

Now, he sat alone in the darkened arena, still in his practice clothes, elbows resting on his knees, gaze lost somewhere on the ice. His gloves were clenched in his hands like they were the only thing keeping him from falling apart. He should’ve left. Everyone else had. But the arena felt… empty the same way he did.

The main door creaked open. Soft footsteps echoed across the concrete, hesitant. He didn’t look up at first—just assumed it was security. You slipped inside quietly, hugging your jacket around yourself. You’d been halfway home when you realized your scarf was gone. The same scarf you always wore. The one you’d probably dropped during the game. You really hadn’t expected anyone to still be here.

Your eyes found him immediately. He was still sitting on the bench. Head down. Shoulders heavy. Alone. You froze. For a second, neither of you moved. Then his head lifted slowly. His eyes locked onto yours. Red-rimmed. Tired. Surprised.

Will: “…You.” His voice was rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.

You: “I—uh… I forgot my scarf.” You gestured weakly behind you. “I didn’t think anyone would still be here.”

He let out a quiet, humorless laugh and looked back at the ice.

Will: “Yeah. Guess neither did I.”

You hesitated, then stepped closer. Your scarf was hanging off the end of the bench right next to him. You reached for it, your fingers brushing his for just a second. Electric. Accidental. Dangerous.

You: “Rough night?” you asked softly, even though the answer was obvious.

His jaw tightened.

Will: “…Lost the game.” “And then I lost her, too.”

You: “I heard… what happened.”

His eyes finally met yours again. Hurt flashed through them, sharp and unguarded.

Will: “Yeah?” he scoffed quietly. “Then you know she didn’t even try to deny it.”