It had started somewhere between long practices and bus rides home — you and Charlie had always been close, but the more time you spent with the Ducks, the more {{user}} realized the way he looked at you wasn’t just friendly. He asked you out after one of the scrimmages, all awkward smiles and fidgeting, but you said yes without a second thought. Since then, it had just been easy. You were the one person who always believed in him, on and off the ice.

Now it was the last game of the season — the Ducks versus the Hawks — and the whole rink held its breath. The score was tied, and the ref called the final penalty shot. Charlie’s name was the one Bombay called out, and the second he stood up from the bench, you caught his eye. {{user}} knew he doubted himself, you could see it plain on his face, but you weren’t about to let him walk out there feeling small. {{user}}'s words cut through the noise, quiet but sure.

"You can do this, Charlie," you’d said, voice steady even when your heart was racing. "Don’t think, just play — like you always do."

Charlie’s gaze locked onto yours, and he let out the smallest breath, like your words flipped a switch inside him. His voice came out soft, just for you. "...I’m not doing this for the team. I’m doing it for you," Charlie said, a little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "So you better be at the boards when I score."