Chapter Text
“Jacques, brah, why you throwing on the brakes?” They were at the back of the line to hit the ice for warmup with the rest of their freshmen teammates. Jack was quaking on his skates. Of course their season opener was away, of course it was Yale, of course his parents were here.
Shitty’s eyebrows knitted together and he turned Jack so his back was against the wall. He dropped his gloves and cupped Jack’s face in his hands. “Breathe. C’mon. In, breathe in with me.” He pressed his chest forward, largely pantomiming the movement so Jack had more than one sensory cue to follow. “Good, out. In, out. In, out.”
Coach Murray peeked around the corner looking aggravated and Shitty waved him off, pointing at Jack. Murray nodded and disappeared back toward the bench.
“Shitty–” Jack’s voice echoed around the hallway, somehow still audible over the roar coming from the rink.
“Nope, not yet, just breathe for me, okay? We’ll talk in a few minutes.”
Jack nodded, blinked back tears, and kept pace with the exaggerated rise and fall of Shitty’s chest. Minutes ticked past, and Shitty’s vision started to swim from the deep breathing.
“Phew, shit.” He blinked. “I’m getting a little dizzy.”
The corner of Jack’s mouth quirked up. “The room isn’t spinning anymore.”
“I got you bro, I siphoned it off of you.” Shitty clapped Jack’s shoulder, smiling when his friend outright laughed. He looked back at Jack, suddenly serious. “You’ve got this, you know? We’ve got this. You’re not going out there alone.”
“It’s just.” Jack sighed and shrugged. “I’m scared. I’m scared of the press, of embarrassing my teammates, my coaches. Myself.”
“Your father?” Shitty’s right eyebrow quirked up.
Jack glared at him, then relented and nodded. “I’ve already let him down once. I don’t think I’ll manage well if I do it again.” He looked at the ground.
“Jack Zimmermann, I have met your father all of two times and I can tell you this right now: he loves you. A lot. He doesn’t care if you suck at hockey for the rest of recorded time as long as you’re alive and trying to be happy. You did not let him down by surviving an addiction.” Shitty tilted Jack’s chin up and waited until he made eye contact. “Are you here for your dad or are you here because you love hockey?”
His voice wobbled. “I’m here because I love hockey.” His eyes were steely.
“Then let’s go do what we love.” He helped Jack off the wall and swatted his ass for good measure. “And look way too good doing it.”