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Scott Hunter stood on the sidewalk outside of the Kingfisher, hands balled into fists inside the pockets of his coat as the chilly New York December air nipped at the skin of his cheeks, his nose. He let out a sigh and his breath clouded in front of his mouth and wafted upwards, white and translucent and gone in a couple of seconds.
Kip was inside the bar, celebrating with his friends a birthday that Scott was invited to and had turned down. In an ironically cruel turn of events, the group’s booth was right next to one of the windows facing the street, and Scott had a perfectly clear view of Kip even from across the sidewalk. Framed inside the wooden pane, like the subject of an artwork on the cover of one of the books Kip would leave around their home—on the kitchen island, on his nightstand, haphazardly closed on the coffee table whenever Scott got so overwhelmed by love while staring at Kip that he simply had to sweep him up in a knee-weakening kiss that always ended in so much more.
Kip looked beautiful, as always, and was smiling wider amongst his loved ones than Scott had seen him do for a couple of weeks now. He was wearing his adorable wire frame glasses, which had surprised Scott when he first arrived in front of the bar, his shoulders feeling tight and his lungs heavy. Kip never wore his glasses while working at Straw + Berry, so Scott had assumed he only put them on at home.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Kip was so full of life, brimming with passions and interests and unique qualities, and being with Scott had obligated him to stomp it all down, to force almost his whole life to fit exclusively inside the four walls of Scott’s apartment when he used to have the whole of New York at his disposal to be openly himself. His family, his friends… Honestly, Scott had started noticing some of the hairline fractures in their perfect domestic life even before Kip had voiced them out loud.
“Sorry, they wouldn’t let me go, said they haven’t seen me in forever” after Kip had returned from an evening out with his friends, said with a fond eyeroll and followed by a sweet kiss to Scott’s lips before crumpling next to him on the bed.
“Yeah Dad, I’ve just been extra busy with work and my admission essays, I promise I’ll come by this weekend, okay?” with a glance thrown at Scott while the lie slipped out of Kip’s mouth and into his phone’s microphone.
Scott was holding him back. Stifling him, most likely.
It didn’t matter how blissful and wonderful their time together at Scott’s apartment was, how much it broke him to think that way about his sanctuary of loving Kip: a gilded cage was still a cage.
Gold-plated, like Scott was supposed to be. One of the golden boys of the MLH, upstanding and righteous and a role-model and with so many people looking up to him that he couldn’t dare to let down. But inside, beneath the surface that he had been fighting tooth and nail for his whole career to keep shiny and spotless, he felt he was made of rusted metal and brittle, a fruit rotting from within.
It had started with his parents’ death when he was twelve, leaving him unmoored and lonely and lost in every part of his life except hockey, so he had thrown everything he had into it. The sport had been a safe space for him. It still was in a way, and would always be his first love, but soon he had realised that he might be even more different from other players than he had thought. That he might be that thing that every other guy around him called each other from time to time, but that none of them actually were and, most importantly, no one wished to be. So he buried it down because being an orphan was already being different enough, and he tried his best to be as unsuspectable as possible as he grew up, went professional, and the status quo didn’t change.
He was a gay man in a sport where homophobia was almost expected, found at worst in insults and slurs used as chirps to get under an opponent’s skin, and in crass locker room jokes and raucous comradery at best. In both cases it had always left Scott burning, feeling hollow inside his chest, out of place and fucking terrified of being found out.
It wasn’t every player now that they were adults, not all of his teammates, and the league had things like pride nights every once in a while, but… He was still scared shitless.
So much for a golden boy, having a huge secret locked down so deep inside of him that could cause him to lose his career in a heartbeat if it got out too early. Hollander should just have been the one to carry the moniker while actually deserving it.
Although… Scott’s memory jumped back to an All Star game years ago. To Rozanov leaning forward and saying a hotel room number while skating by, to hurried knocks and frantic voices on the other side of the wall later that night despite how he had tried to subtly warn Hollander to be careful if those numbers really meant what he thought, before Scott put on his headphones and hoped nobody else could hear them too. He remembered a “Where is your boy Rozanov?” asked casually, and Hollander’s responding expression of frozen panic that had felt like a mirror of Scott’s own emotions whenever the fear of someone possibly figuring out his sexuality clamped down on his throat and spilled ice in his veins.
He almost wanted to laugh. It seemed that all three of them had festering secrets underneath the luster.
Scott knew he should leave, the back of his neck itching in a way that was bone-deep. The Kingfisher was a gay bar, even if it wasn’t a night club, and if someone took a photo of Admirals Captain Scott Hunter standing outside of it he could be found out before he was ready even without stepping through the doors.
But he just couldn’t stop looking.
Keeping his own secret had hurt before, it had felt lonely and scary and isolating, but it had been okay because Scott had had nothing he loved as much as hockey, so the choice of what to do had realistically only been one. Play hockey until he couldn’t keep up with the newbies anymore, retire, hopefully still with the favour and love of his city after a whole career in the Admirals, and then maybe come out quietly, without much fanfare. Find a man to date if he could, and catch up on experiences that weren’t just secret hookups in the dark with a fake name in cities abroad where someone was less likely to recognise him.
But then Scott had met Kip. Beautiful, smart, caring, funny Kip, and he had wanted something more than he had in years. He had wanted and he had let himself take, had let himself subtly flirt in broad daylight in an empty Straw + Berry and had offered tickets to his game and had invited Kip for dinner and then his house and then had asked for him to stay again and again and again until Kip had basically moved in.
Scott had attachment issues, his therapist had told him. They came as a package with the dead parents and having to hide himself so deep in the closet, he supposed. When it came to Kip this had meant that Scott had fallen hard and fast, and hardly could imagine a life without his boyfriend by his side anymore.
So why was it so hard still? How could he keep hurting the person he loved so much? He wanted nothing more than for people to know Kip was his, but the fear was paralyzing.
Inside the bar, Elena approached the table with a small birthday cake that she set down in front of Kip, before planting a kiss on his cheek and hanging off of his shoulder as she leaned forward and lit up the singular candle on top of the cake with a lighter.
Scott remembered her words from the fundraiser two nights prior: “He’s gonna put up with it because he loves you so much, but it’s killing him.”
The worst part was that Scott was aware of it. Despite how much he tried to be enough for Kip on his own, his own inadequacy shined through no matter how hard he wanted to make things right.
It was found in ‘For my man - S’ scribbled on a note stuck to the fancy tuxedo Scott had bought for him, but a “I think I spotted an old friend” to the people he had been talking with at the fundraiser before he moved towards Kip. It was in nights spent coming undone under Kip's touch and vice versa, in “I love you so much”’s spoken with reverence inside his apartment and over text, but shushing Kip out of reflex when they were at that art gallery and Scott had started panicking after his boyfriend had so much as mentioned the bedroom. It was in only wanting Kip in his arms, but having to dance with Elena when they were amongst others.
It was in “I'm tired of lying to them” spoken while Kip was still wearing the slacks and shirt from the gifted tuxedo in Scott’s kitchen, and in Kip going back to his dad’s apartment for the first time since they had met and Scott wasn’t at an away game.
Scott felt like his love for Kip could never run out in a million years, and yet he had realised that love alone wasn’t enough.
Not if, every single time, it had to come at Kip's expenses, dulling some of his happiness.
If you love something, let it go, was the saying. The thought alone made Scott’s stomach churn and his jaw lock up. The problem with that was that, at his core, Scott Hunter was a selfish man.
He usually didn’t let himself want things because once he did he could never truly let go until he'd reached the very end, not without tearing away a part of himself in the process. Sometimes not even then. It was like that with hockey, matches and seasons and games he dedicated himself to with a relentless effort that did not always pay off, that whenever they went poorly left him skating like a mad man with burning lungs and aching muscles until the very last buzzer, grasping at straws to fix it because he wanted it so badly and he couldn’t let everyone down. After it was all done it always felt like his skin was scraped raw and his guts were abandoned over on the ice, as his teammates passed him one by one to get to the tunnels and he pretended not to be left devastated. Every time, he believed that the force with which he desired something and giving all he could to achieve it would be enough, and time and time again lately his conviction had been proven wrong.
It was the same when it came to Kip. Scott just couldn’t let his boyfriend go, even if he knew Kip deserved much better than him and what he was giving him. Their relationship had already started cracking, and Scott knew himself enough to be aware that he would keep holding onto it for dear life as it would eventually careen down a cliff, crash and burn with him still on board. He would force Kip to be the one to finally walk away dragging half of Scott with him, because in his fear he had closed too tight the hands meant to cradle and protect their love and in the process had snuffed out all of the oxygen.
Scott had lived for so long with his secret weighing down on him that he didn’t remember anymore what it felt to live without it, like running while wearing a weighted vest during a long workout. After some time you just knew it was heavy as shit, without really realising how much. Seeing Kip starting to carry more and more of that burden when it wasn’t even his to bear, however, had made him hyper aware of it once again.
Inside of the Kingfisher, Kip was now holding up the cake in front of his chest as the friends around him swayed from side to side and waved their arms in the air like conducting an orchestra, seemingly singing him happy birthday. There was Maria from the smoothie shop, two men who must’ve been Shawn and Kyle from the stories Kip had told him about them, and Elena tenderly resting her head on Kip’s shoulder.
Scott remembered what else she had told him when they danced together.
“He deserves sunshine. And so do you.”
He looked on as the warm light of the candle flame reflected on the lenses of Kip’s glasses, washing in faint shades of orange his mouth and nose and chin. He looked beautiful.
Scott took a steadying, grave sigh. He was so fucking tired of being scared, and of hurting Kip because of it.
He watched the flame dance through the window. He couldn’t give Kip the sunshine he deserved yet, but he owed him at least some light.
Scott took his fists out of his coat pockets, shook his shoulders, and pushed open the doors of the Kingfisher before he could let the fear paralyze him again.
As soon as he got inside, even looking from a different direction, it was easy to spot Kip’s table. Scott approached it, watching as Kip had his eyes closed and a small, almost sad smile on his lips while still holding the cake up. He then puckered his mouth and blew out the candle, and opened his eyes again as everyone around him clapped and cheered.
Kip started to turn his head from one side to the other to look at everyone at the table, smiling at them in gratitude. Then his eyes met Scott’s over Elena’s shoulder, and he froze stock still where he stood.
He looked down at the cake and then back up at Scott again, looking a mix of bewildered and hopeful and like he couldn’t believe he was really there. Scott’s heart ached.
Scott covered the last step separating him from the table, as Kip hurriedly put down the cake and turned around to face him.
“You’re here,” Kip told him in almost a breathless whisper.
“I… Yeah. Hi,” Scott greeted back, a bit awkward and with his heart beating jackrabbit-fast. “Sorry I’m late. Happy birthday, Kip.”
Kip’s expression of tentative disbelief morphed into a cheek-splitting smile, big and bright and happy. Oh, Scott thought, there comes the sunshine.
Kip had so much love in his gaze, for him, that he felt he could have drowned in it a happy man.
“Scott!” Elena chimed in, breaking the two of them out of their own little world. “So nice that you could make it.”
That seemed to snap Kip out of his stupor and he whirled around towards the table once more. “Sit, sit,” he fussed, shuffling back to his place in the booth.
Elena made Scott take off his coat, then grabbed him by the biceps and maneuvered him to slide onto the bench seat of the booth as well, moving him with an ease that shouldn’t have made sense with his broad and strong hockey player build compared to hers. But Scott had learned in his short time of knowing her that if she wanted that woman could have moved mountains all on her own, in more ways than one. A glaring example was how her words had been the final push that had gotten him to step into the bar, at last.
“How are you?” Kip asked under his breath as everyone sat down again and adjusted their places around the table to fit one more person.
“Terrified,” Scott answered sincerely in the same low tone. “But, happy.”
Kip took advantage of the cover offered by the table and lined up his right leg against Scott’s left, making them touch from their thighs to the sides of their feet. It was warm and reassuring, and Scott was so grateful for him.
At the end Scott found himself sitting flush between Kip and Elena, two solid presences at his sides. He appreciated it both for the literal support, as he felt like his muscles could give out at any moment, and because it prevented him from trying to run. He wouldn’t, didn’t want to, but fear was a bitch sometimes. He wondered if that was something Elena had thought about as well when she had positioned Scott in the middle of the two of them, just in case.
“So, this is Scott,” Kip introduced him to the group, sounding jittery and tentative but undeniably excited underneath it all. “The customer… friend I told you about from work.”
“Hi,” Scott saluted with a small wave of his hand, looking around to the faces of Kip’s friends, ranging from open to curious to blatantly teasing. Maria was sporting an expression he recognised from many times he and Kip had talked at Straw + Berry, which meant she was smiling like the cat who got the canary.
“I’m…” Scott inhaled. He swept another fleeting glance over the group, then focused his eyes on Kip, because he was the only one who really mattered.
“I’m Kip’s boyfriend.”
It wasn’t perfect. Scott had said it low, just loud enough over the chatter of the bar, and he hadn’t been able to help the quick look over his shoulder to the rest of the patrons out of reflex. But it was out there now. His heartbeat was thundering inside his ribcage, and yet he felt like some of the weight on his shoulders had slipped off of him.
Kip was frozen in place once again.
“Scott. Scott,” he breathed, heavy with emotion and disbelief as his friends cheered or clapped quietly beside them.
Scott could hear all Kip wanted to tell him in the way he said his name, how he was looking at him. Are you sure? Is this real? I love you.
“They're important to you,” Scott replied, a tentative smile on his lips as he looked at the group once more and then focused on Kip again. Always Kip. “So it’s important to me too. It was hurting you.”
Kip's fond smile was so beautiful. Scott felt Elena grasp his right forearm for support and a surge of gratitude rose in him even if he wasn't fully sure he deserved such niceties yet.
“I can't… tell everyone yet. I'm sorry. But you deserve for your friends, for your dad to know. And I was thinking… I could tell some of my friends too, Greg, Vaughny and Eric.”
It hadn't really occurred to him before, but the idea came into his mind at feeling the openness and understanding around him and it wouldn’t leave. Those three were Scott's best friends, as close to a family as he had both on and off the ice, and he realised he wanted to tell them. Let them know who he really was, why he had been so happy lately, who the ‘K’ followed by a heart and a blueberry emoji he was always texting on his phone was. He wanted to introduce Kip to them and them to Kip, let the two facets of his life blend together in a way he had never allowed himself to have before.
Scott slipped his free hand into Kip's under the table, tentative, and breathed a little easier when Kip intertwined their fingers.
“Would that be enough? For now?” He asked, gaze pleading. “And I promise I will start seriously thinking about coming out, we will make a plan, together. I can't lose you.”
Kip's eyes were misty, and he squeezed Scott's hand tighter. “Yeah— Yes. That’s everything I wanted, to be honest with the people we care about. Thank you.”
Scott shook his head and squeezed their hands back. “No need to thank me. I needed to do this.”
It had been important for himself too, he got it now, not just to make Kip happy and not lose him.
“I love you,” Kip breathed out.
In a private corner of the bar, surrounded by people who cared and could be trusted, with his hand in his boyfriend's and a chest so full of affection he felt like it might explode out of his ribcage anytime soon, Scott didn’t feel so afraid anymore. “I love you too.”
“Alright, who wants cake?” Must-be-Shawn asked in a cheerful tone, coaxing them out of their own little world again. And it was a good thing he did, because it was getting harder and harder with every passing second for Scott to reign in how much he wanted to kiss his boyfriend. Next time they would hang out with Kip’s friends it absolutely needed to be at one of their apartments, so that Scott could give in to all the urges for mushy, sappy displays of affection that a happy and smiley Kip always roused inside of him.
Most-likely-Kyle walked back to behind the bar on the other side of the room and returned with a knife and a set of small plates and forks for everyone. He handed them around the table, playfully chiding that he had a bar to run and that Kip was lucky he loved him enough to waste so much time not working while on shift.
“Thank you Kyle~” Kip’s friends sing-songed one after the other in an echo, and it sounded like an inside joke Scott looked forward to being brought in on soon.
They had to stop holding hands to eat the cake, but both he and Kip kept leaning their weight against each other, from shoulders to elbows to knees to feet. Warm, and solid, and together.
Scott bit down on the morsel of cake on his fork, and felt a little delirious with happiness when he tasted the juice of a blueberry explode on his tongue.
An amused snort escaped him, and Kip turned to look at him with a curious tilt of his eyebrows.
“Sorry,” Scott apologised with a small shake of his head. He lifted his fork up slightly, now carrying a new bite. “Just— the cake. Blueberries.”
Kip’s face melted into something impossibly soft. He readjusted his position on the booth’s bench so that his body was slightly more angled towards Scott’s and leaned his face a smidge closer. He had a tiny smudge of whipped cream on the corner of his mouth and Scott found himself fighting a hard battle between staring at it or looking into Kip’s eyes.
“You know, I wished for you,” Kip told him, voice low and just for them. “With the candle.”
Scott’s heart did a pleasant flutter and he pushed his knee against Kip’s even more. “I’m here now,” he said. Earnest, a bit awkward and intense, like he often was when feeling the magnitude of his emotions.
“You’re here,” Kip echoed in a murmur before his lips curled into a fond, gorgeous smile. His eyes were warm, and the bit of whipped cream was still holding on.
Fuck it, Scott thought. His want was getting too hard to stuff down any longer.
He threw another cursory glance behind them.
“When you’re done with your cake, can you meet me in the bathroom in like, five minutes? I really want to kiss you,” he asked.
Kip laughed, bright and happy, and easily agreed. “Okay. But I can’t promise I’ll be able to wait that long.”
“Three?” Scott amended.
Kip gave him a nod. “Three.”
Scott nodded as well, then turned around in his seat to face Elena. “Sorry, can you get up? I need to—”
“Down and to the left, loverboy,” she cut him off, already getting to her feet. Scott thanked her, blushing. Of course she had heard him.
Once Scott got to the bathroom and checked that all the stalls were empty, he settled in to wait against the sinks for the three minutes to pass, checking his watch way too often.
Kip came in after a little over two, and sauntered up to Scott with a smirk. “Hello there, handsome,” he greeted. “Come here often?”
“I might plan to from now on, if this is how the regulars look like,” Scott quipped back with a sweep of his eyes up and down Kip’s body. God, he was dating the most gorgeous man on the planet.
“Ah,” Kip hummed, then grabbed the front of Scott’s shirt in a loose fist and tugged. Scott let himself be led as Kip walked backwards until they were standing in one of the stalls, its door closed behind them. The bathroom was a gender neutral one and the stalls were more like small walled-in rooms without gaps at the top or bottom of the door and sides, and the privacy was a welcome surprise.
Kip pushed him back against the door and tugged Scott’s head down to sweep him in a kiss that felt like breathing air after spending way too long underwater. Scott held him close, hands running all over Kip’s back, his shoulders, his waist, through his hair, to cradle the sides of his neck.
He was in a gay bar, on his boyfriend’s birthday, kissing him in the bathroom.
It felt so… normal, like they were just any regular couple in love in New York, and yet it was groundbreaking for them in a way that made his whole body buzz.
He would be willing to do everything to get this same feeling of normalcy more and more, wherever he and Kip went.
“I love you so fucking much,” he breathed against Kip’s cheek. He wanted to be able to love him openly so fiercely, he needed to come up with a coming out plan way sooner than the ‘in a few years’ he had promised Kip just a couple of days earlier.
“I love you too,” Kip replied.
Simple, matter-of-fact, like it was the only thing that mattered. And maybe it was.
They were going to be okay. They would step out into the sunshine soon enough.