Days later...

It's good to finally be free. The confusion is gone, the trepidation has been lifted.

My Philly cheesesteak sandwich has never tasted so delicious.

"It's good to have you back with us, Hartsy!" I hear Brett chirp at me.

I peer up from my sandwich. Brett is smirking from across the table, leaning against the booth he is sitting on. In his hands is a roast beef melt over his plate.

I let out a chuckle. "Yeah." I straighten up. "I mean, the interrogation and all was pretty scary, but at least they let me go."

"And that Hischier is outta the league," Nolan adds in from my right.

I glance at him, spotting him pop a chip in his mouth with his right hand. Next to him is the large, rectangular-shaped window, which displays the view of a bustling street. The afternoon sunlight pours from it, giving warm light to our table and the sandwich shop.

"Hell yeah!" Brett shouts, grabbing my attention. "High-five!" He holds his bread-spotted palm out to me.

I place my sandwich down and reach over the table to slap it.

Brett then reverts his hand to face Nolan.

Nolan stares at it blankly. He darts his eyes from Brett's palm to his face, then down to his own occupied hands: His right hand is holding a handful of chips; his other hand is sticking out from a sling his arm is hanging in.

Brett drops his elated expression. "Oh right." He balls his hand into a fist.

Nolan extends his chip-occupied hand and bumps his knuckles against his fist.

I glance at Nolan's blue sling before looking at him. "How's your shoulder, Pat?"

Nolan turns to me. "Getting better. The surgery went well, but I'm gonna be out for the rest of the postseason."

I give him a slight frown. "Aw, Pat...I'm so sorry."

"Hey." He cocks his head for a split second. "Play for me."

"And I'll be rooting alongside him!" Brett hollers from in front of us.

I whirl to him with a grin, spotting him take a bite from his sandwich. "Thanks!" Confusion then comes across my face as a realization settles in. "Wait a minute..." I gaze at Nolan. "...are you guys...getting along together?" I extend my right pointer finger to Nolan and my left pointer finger to Brett.

"Don't jinx it." Nolan stuffs more chips into his mouth.

Brett swallows. "I kinda had to help him after the surgery and all, so it was inevitable. But I will admit..." He looks at Nolan. "...you're not that bad."

Nolan sets piercing eyes at him. "The feeling's mutual."

Brett turns back to me. "We've even found some things we like in common."

"Like One Direction," I hear Nolan pipe in.

Brett directs a smirk at him. "That's right." He looks back at me. "We listened to all their songs already."

"Twice."

I can't help but let a huge grin grow on my face. "That's great!" I face Nolan. "See, Pat?"

Nolan hesitantly gazes at me. "Yeah." His eyes shift. "I guess I was a bad friend before...especially when I ditched you for Nico."

My face drops as the familiar hurt climbs up within me. "Oh yeah..." I look to aside. "Why?" I revert my gaze at him. "Why...did you do that?"

Nolan holds his sharp, yet regretful eyes at me. "He convinced me to. You were taking too long. I thought it would be nice to catch up with him." He adjusts himself to be facing his bag of chips. "But it was to initiate his plan all along. I didn't realize until the damage was done." He slides his hand into the bag.

"Hey, it's alright—" I lean on the table to gaze at him. "I forgive you. At least that's all cleared up and we're all together, eh?"

"Yeah!" Brett cheers.

I turn to him as he grabs his soda can and raises it toward us.

"Cheering for the Flyers..." Confusion clouds his face. "I never knew I would be saying that."

I chuckle and eye Nolan. Nolan holds a smirk at him. I pick up my own soda can and hold it up to his.

"...through thick and thin...," I continue on.

Nolan grabs his bag of chips and reaches it up against our soda cans.

"...to win the Cup," he finishes off flatly.

"Cheers!" Brett clinks his soda can against mine before hitting Nolan's bag of chips with it.

I softly press my soda can against his chip bag before settling down and taking a sip. I grab my sandwich and take a bite.

Brett lowers his soda can. "Who are you guys playing against in the Finals?"

"Either Kings or Stars," Nolan replies. He lifts some chips into his mouth.

He raises his eyebrows. "Oh wow! That's pretty cool!" His eyebrows then lower and knit. "But...but..." He slightly grimaces.

I eye him with suspicion. "Yeah?"

"Ummm..." He presses his lips and slides his eyes from side to side. "...what about G..." He lands his eyes on us. "...or TK?"

The sounds of soft chattering and silverware clanking settle over our table.

"They passed," Nolan states.

I let out a huff, gazing at the cream-colored table. "Like how the saying goes—" I gaze up at him. "—the show must go on."

"It's good we got a break while the west makes up its mind for the winner." Nolan munches on more chips.

My eyes light up. "We've got to play and win the Cup for them!" I hold my sandwich in one hand to point at Nolan. "And for you!"

"Although I am not playing, I can taste the victory!" Brett smirks before taking a bite from his sandwich.

I nod and hold my sandwich with two hands. The pressure of merely imagining the next game with all that has happened builds on my shoulder. "This final round has much more meaning now..."

"...all because you just had to be framed," I hear Nolan remark.

I press my lips and swing my eyes between my two friends. "Yup."



The End.