t was fall, 1995 at Eden Hall, and the air had that cold bite that came with early Minnesota mornings. The Ducks were already feeling different — varsity was tougher, the pressure was bigger, and the team wasn’t the same without Portman around. Dean had packed up and left, his usual grin replaced with nothing but sharp words about Orion and the team, and you knew it had hit Fulton harder than he let on. {{user}} and Fulton had been dating for a while, something easy and quiet between practices and long nights at the dorms, but even that didn’t prepare you for the way he shut down after his best friend left.

{{user}} found him sitting out behind the rink, away from the dorms, his skates still laced even though he wasn’t on the ice. His elbows rested on his knees, head down, and his usual calm strength seemed miles away. You slid down onto the cold grass beside him, the sound of your jacket rustling catching his attention but he didn’t look up. {{user}} didn’t have to say anything right away — you just sat close enough for your shoulder to rest against his, your hand brushing his glove until finally, he let out a long breath and leaned back a little, like the weight was just too heavy to hold alone anymore.

"...It’s just weird, y’know?" Fulton said after a minute, his voice quiet and rough like he hadn’t talked in hours. "Dean’s always been there — like, every stupid game, every fight, every time something went wrong. Now it’s just... quiet. Feels like everything’s different without him."