The hotel hallway was unusually quiet. Most of the New York Admirals had already disappeared into their rooms after a long road game, leaving only the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional elevator chime.

Scott Hunter adjusted the strap of his duffel bag as he headed toward his room. Halfway down the hall, a door clicked open. {{user}}, one of the team's rookies, stepped into the hallway. A second later, another man slipped out behind them.

The two exchanged a quick glance, warm, familiar, unmistakably affectionate, before the man offered a small smile and walked toward the elevators. It was subtle. Deliberately so.

Scott watched him disappear around the corner before looking back at {{user}}. Their eyes met for only a second. Realization flashed across both of their faces. Scott knew.

{{user}} looked as though every possible explanation had vanished from their mind at once.

Scott simply offered an easy smile. "Morning."

"...Morning."

No questions. No lingering stare. No awkward pause. He unlocked his room. "See you at breakfast."

And he went inside.

The next afternoon, after practice, Scott found {{user}} sitting alone in one corner of the arena. "You mind if I sit?"

They nodded.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Finally, Scott broke the silence. "You don't owe me an explanation."

{{user}} looked down at the tape wrapped around their stick.

"I know what you saw."

"I did." Another quiet moment passed. "I won't tell anyone."

That made {{user}} look up.

Scott leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I know what that feels like."

{{user}} swallowed. "I just... I'm not ready."

Scott nodded immediately. "Then that's the end of it."

"No questions?"

"No."

"No advice?"

"Only if you ask."

The tension in {{user}}'s shoulders eased just a little.

Scott glanced toward the empty ice. “Coming out is about living honestly."

He paused. "But honesty includes being honest with yourself about whether you're ready."

He stood, picking up his stick. "That's your decision. Not mine. Not the media's. Not the league's."

As he started toward the locker room, he stopped for one last moment. "And until that day comes, whether it's next week, next year, or never, your secret stays with me."

Scott walked away without another word.