Thrown Off the Ice

by Taylor Fitzpatrick

There should be a rule against fucking impressionable rookies, just in case they imprint on you like ducklings. “Just go the fuck to sleep,” Mike groans,

“There’s something wrong with you,” Liam says, choked, and as soft as an admission of love, “There’s something broken.”

That Mike stops this now or he doesn’t stop it at all, because he doesn’t have it in him to hurt the kid again. Doesn’t have it in him to break his own fucking heart again, doesn’t think he could do it, not without flinching. That he stops this now or he puts it in Liam’s hands to do what he will, because Liam’s more responsible than him in the only way it really counts, and Mike loves him, and Mike’s fucking sick of it, of loving him and not having him and not being able to blame anyone but himself for it, sickly grateful for

any sign that Liam’s better off without him.

He’d rather have the kid miserable than be miserable without him, and if that makes him a son of a bitch, he can’t make himself care anymore.

“Is it — is it really fucking stupid I miss you already?”

“I’m so fucking angry every day,” Mike says. It comes out rough, uncomfortably honest. “I’m so angry that I probably won’t see what stupid shit you get up to with your mid-life crisis.”

“I’m going to miss so much,” Mike says, then turns and hides his face in Liam’s hair, mouth pressed against his temple. “I’m sorry,” he manages. Barely manages.

“Why do you only apologize for things that aren’t your fault?” Liam asks. “I’m a contrary bastard?” Mike guesses.

I love you so fucking much, he doesn’t say, but he thinks it so goddamn hard he’s pretty sure Liam hears it anyway.

I always thought I was brave, but the idea of him dying had me scared shitless.