➶ ｡˚ CHAPTER SIXTEEN !! ° ┊
[ snapchat, real life ]

✧ ━━ ❛ the jersey ❜

✧ °₊ ˢᶜ !

chris ❤
| ☐ NEW SNAP !

opened !

ml 🪷
| ☐ NEW SNAP !

opened !

chris ❤
| ☐ NEW SNAP !

opened !

ml 🪷
| ☐ NEW SNAP !

opened !

chris ❤
| ☐ NEW SNAP !

opened !

ml 🪷
| ☐ NEW SNAP !

opened !

chris ❤
| well crime scenes are lowk my thing soo

ml 🪷
| buddy i'm tutoring u so i think ur more like the victim

chris ❤
| ok nerd
| coming from the girl who almost failed P.E. freshman year

ml 🪷
| ONE TIME.
| i tripped ONCE.

chris ❤
| on a flat gym floor
| truly legendary

ml 🪷
| fuck you
| how do u even know abt that

chris ❤
| i've got eyes and ears everywhere, evans

ml 🪷
| ok weirdo
| at least i don't get out of breath tying my shoes

chris ❤
| rightttt ur just jealous
| it takes effort to look this good yk
| shi u wouldn't understand

ml 🪷
| well

typing...

| fuck you i can't come up with a good comeback the red heart next to ur name keeps fucking distracting me

chris ❤
| aww but i like the red heart
| it reminds me of our love for each other 🫂

ml 🪷
| can u not?

chris ❤
| ik ur flustered rn
| like blushing over my snaps real down bad

ml 🪷
| oh pls the day i blush over u is the day pigs fly
| and for the record, i only added the heart bc YOU wanted me to
| otherwise i would've forgot abt it already

chris ❤
| impossible.
| i'm unforgettable
| also, ur typing rn, so i think i win

ml 🪷
| unforgettable?
| as in a cockroach that just won't die?

chris ❤
| wow. harsh one.
| so not blushing rn, huh?

ml 🪷
| NOT.
| stop trying to make it a thing
| focus on surviving ur boring ass class

chris ❤
| i am, actually
| by texting my favorite junior

ml 🪷
| ...
| that's insane pls don't talk to me ever again

chris ❤
| bet ur blushing now

ml 🪷
| omg stop
| i literally just dropped my pen bc ur ego is so loud it knocked it off my desk

chris ❤
| ur loss
| at least i don't use pens like i'm in a calligraphy competition

ml 🪷
| says the guy who used "ted talk" unironically
| ur such a dad

chris ❤
| first of all, i'm a trendsetter
| second, if i'm the dad, what does that make u?

ml 🪷
| nope.
| i'm done like SO done
| this conversation ends here
| get help, seriously

chris ❤
| 😘
| ttyl, evans
delivered

✧ °₊ ᴵᴿᴸ !

THE HALLWAY IS DIM AND CHILLED, the kind of cold that crawls under your skin and settles deep in your bones. for most, it's the kind of cold that bites, unwelcome and sharp, but chris doesn't mind at all. it's familiar, part of the rhythm of rink life, and he barely notices it anymore. the weight of his hockey bag digs into his shoulder, the strap pulling at muscles already stiff from practice the day before. his skates hang from the bag's strap, the sharp, worn blades swinging slightly as he walks, clinking together softly like a metronome marking his steps.

sounds filter through the thick, cinderblock walls of the rink, faint but unmistakable. the rhythmic scrape of blades cutting into ice, the echoing crack of pucks smashing into boards, and the occasional bark of a coach calling orders at a group of kids. it's a cacophony that, to chris, feels like home. the air is heavy with the unmistakable scent of damp rubber mats and the sharp, icy tang of the rink itself. it's a strange mix, one that might seem off-putting to anyone unfamiliar, but for chris, it's a comfort he's grown to love.

he trudges down the corridor, each step measured and deliberate, his breath misting faintly in the cold air. as he approaches the locker room, the faint murmur of voices grows louder, an undercurrent of energy that pulses through the door. he tightens his grip on the bag strap, shifting it higher on his shoulder, and rolls his shoulders back as if bracing for something. the door to the locker room is cracked open, a thin sliver of warmth and noise spilling out into the chilly hallway.

he pushes the door open with his shoulder, the heavy weight of it swinging inward with a dull creak. the first thing that hits him is the warmth, immediate and overwhelming. it wraps around him like a blanket, thick and almost stifling after the chill of the hallway. the air inside is humid, a sticky mix of sweat, detergent, and the metallic tang of hockey gear that lingers no matter how often it's cleaned. the sound follows next, a chaotic symphony of overlapping voices, the thud of sticks against the floor, and the clatter of gear being tossed around without care.

"heyyy, it's about time!" AJ's voice booms over the noise, loud enough to cut through the din like a referee's whistle. chris doesn't even need to look to know every head in the room has turned toward him. AJ stands in the middle of the room, arms spread wide like he's announcing royalty. "the prodigal son returns!"

the room erupts in response. mock applause breaks out, jeers and whistles mingling with the banging of sticks on the floor. someone lets out an exaggerated cheer, the sound bouncing off the walls and blending into the already chaotic noise. chris stops in the doorway, his expression deadpan as he rolls his eyes so hard it feels like a workout.

"real original, guys," he says dryly, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him. he shrugs the bag off his shoulder, letting it drop to the floor with a loud, satisfying thud. his arm tingles with relief as the weight leaves it. he reaches for the hem of his hoodie, tugging it off in one fluid motion. underneath, his black t-shirt clings to his back, damp with sweat from the walk over.

"been sitting on that one all day, haven't you?" he adds, glancing toward AJ as he tosses the hoodie onto the bench. his tone is dry, but there's the faintest hint of amusement in his voice, like he's used to this routine by now.

"nah, man, we're just warming up." AJ smirks, leaning casually against the lockers with his arms crossed like he owns the place. his grin is wide, smug, and entirely too pleased with himself. "you're late, cap. thought maybe coraline decided to keep you all to herself today."

the mention of her name is like throwing gasoline on a fire. chris can feel it before it even happens, the sharp spike of energy in the room as every guy locks onto the bait.

"no wayyy," kyle pipes up from across the room, dragging the word out as his grin stretches wide. he's perched on a bench, his skates half-laced, and he leans forward with a look of exaggerated curiosity. "coraline evans? shit, pulling some real moves now."

chris shoots AJ a flat look, the kind that promises retribution later. "oh, don't worry," he says, crouching to unzip his bag. his tone is as dry as ever, but there's a sharpness to it now, a challenge buried in the words. "she's thrilled to share me with you idiots. highlight of her week."

the room erupts again, louder this time, fueled by the spark chris has unwillingly provided.

kyle leans forward even more, his elbows resting on his knees as he grins. "you hear that? the man speaks for her now. big boss energy."

"must be nice," AJ chimes in, dragging the words out with a smirk that's almost cartoonish in its size. he slouches back against the lockers, his arms still crossed, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

chris exhales sharply through his nose, pulling out his shoulder pads and adjusting the straps with practiced efficiency. the velcro crackles softly in the background, a sharp counterpoint to the laughter swirling around him. "keep talking like that, and you're all skating 100 laps later," he says, smiling faintly but with enough edge to make the threat believable.

"big threat," max teases from the far side of the room. he's sprawled out on a bench like he has all the time in the world, his helmet tilted precariously on his head. his stick taps a lazy rhythm against the floor as he grins. "but, cap, we're just curious. can't a guy ask questions?"

chris doesn't even look up as he pulls out his elbow pads, tightening the straps with a touch more aggression than necessary. "let's see umm... no," he says flatly, his voice as deadpan as his expression. his jaw tightens, but the corner of his mouth twitches, hinting at either a suppressed laugh or mounting irritation.

max, unbothered, leans back further, his grin unfaltering. "so does she come to your games? cheer you on all decked out in team colors? maybe a little face paint? is she gonna wear the jersey?" his tone is dripping with mock innocence, but the room picks up on the teasing thread immediately.

"oh, the jersey," kyle says, clasping his hands together like he's talking about something sacred. his wide, dramatic eyes are locked on chris as he speaks, every word dripping with exaggerated awe. "not the jersey, you wouldn't dare."

"you're kidding, right?" AJ cuts in, his smirk sharpening. he straightens up slightly, pointing his stick at chris like it's some kind of accusation. "even our sweet little clem never got the jersey, you think coraline evans is gonna rock it now? no way. no shot."

chris exhales through his nose, a sharp and deliberate sound as he pulls his elbow pad tighter. "you're all idiots," he mutters, his tone flat and dismissive, but not harsh enough to shut them up.

"yo! wait, wait," max interrupts, raising his hand like a student with an urgent question. his grin widens as he gestures dramatically. "you mean to tell me coraline evans is getting something clementine laurier never got?" the words land like a grenade in the middle of the room, and for a moment, there's a beat of silence as everyone looks to chris for a response.

he says nothing, his silence only adding fuel to the fire. max's eyes light up like he's just discovered gold. "that's wild!" he exclaims, slapping his stick against the bench for emphasis. "that's history right there, guys."

the room buzzes with renewed energy, the clamor reaching near-deafening levels as the chant begins. "the jersey! the jersey!" voices overlap, sticks clatter against benches, and it feels like the walls themselves are vibrating with the force of it.

chris rolls his eyes so hard he swears he can see his own brain. "nobody's wearing the damn jersey," he says firmly, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. he yanks his gloves out of his bag, stuffing his hands into them with more force than necessary. "you're all delusional."

"aww, you big old softie!" kyle snickers, reaching out to clap chris on the back, his grin wide and unrepentant.

"softie?" chris repeats, his tone rising just slightly as he pulls off a glove and points at kyle. the movement is sharp, exaggerated enough to make kyle falter for just a second. "yeah, that's hilarious, thatcher. let's see who's soft after practice, huh?"

the room explodes into laughter again, the tension breaking as the guys rib each other in earnest now. chris can't help the faint smile that tugs at his lips, despite himself.

"yo, where's matty boy?" AJ's voice cuts through the noise suddenly, his grin fading as he glances around the room. his frown deepens when he doesn't see him. "he's not here yet?"

chris freezes for half a second, his helmet halfway on, his fingers tightening imperceptibly against the edges of the protective gear. it's such a small pause that most of the guys might not have noticed it, distracted as they are by their own conversations and jokes, but for those paying attention, it's telling. his movements resume after that brief hesitation, slower and more deliberate now, as though the act of putting on his helmet requires his full concentration. 

"he's sick," he says finally, his voice quieter than usual, the words almost swallowed by the lingering buzz of conversation in the room. 

the room seems to hold its breath for a beat, the din of noise and laughter tapering slightly as the weight of his statement hangs in the air. AJ exchanges a look with kyle, his grin fading. "shit," he mutters, leaning back against the lockers. "he's been sick a lot, man. that's weird."

kyle nods, his brow furrowing. "yeah. didn't he miss, like, two practices last week?"

his brows knit together slightly, and his jaw tightens in a way that only someone who knows him well would recognize as discomfort. his hands work the chin strap with meticulous precision, pulling it taut until it clicks securely into place. the motion is steady, deliberate, like it's something he's done a thousand times but suddenly feels the need to perfect. "he's fine," he says, his tone clipped.

but the tension lingers, heavy and unspoken. max shifts uncomfortably, tapping his stick against the floor. "i hope it's nothing serious," he says quietly, glancing at chris for a reaction.

but chris doesn't respond. he finishes tightening his gear and slings his stick over his shoulder, his movements deliberate. "let's go," he says finally, his voice a shade harder than before. "you girls done gossiping, or do i need to grab you some pom-poms?"

"you don't have to ask me twice, cap."

the locker room door creaks open, the metallic groan cutting through the low hum of laughter. a gust of cold air sweeps in, biting and sharp, carrying the crisp edge of the rink with it. chris glances up from the roll of tape in his hands, his fingers pausing mid-wrap. his jaw tightens instinctively, the way it always does when something threatens to throw him off balance. even before he sees her, he feels it.

the rest of the team is still caught up in kyle's story, leaning in with easy grins and careless laughter. they don't notice the shift at first, but chris does. it's like the air in the room has been replaced, heavier now, laced with something electric. his eyes flicker to the doorway, and there she is.

clementine.

she strides in like she owns the place, her heels clicking sharply against the tile. the sound echoes through the room, deliberate and confident, as if daring anyone to question her presence. her blonde hair is swept into a sleek ponytail, not a strand out of place, and the pop of red on her lips is as bold as it is calculated. her coat hangs open, revealing an outfit that screams sophistication — a sharp contrast to the dingy locker room walls and the sweaty jerseys slung over benches. she doesn't belong here, but she acts like she does, like the entire room has been waiting for her to arrive.

chris's fingers curl tighter around the tape. he takes a slow, measured breath, the kind that's supposed to steady him but never quite does.

"so?" her voice slices through the air, as sharp as her heels, and all at once, the low hum of laughter dies.

chris leans back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he watches her approach. he doesn't answer right away, taking the time to unwind the tape from his hand like her sudden appearance doesn't bother him. but it does. god, it does.

"so what?" he says finally, his tone as casual as he can manage, though there's an edge to it.

her lips press into a thin line, her patience already thinning. "don't play dumb, chris," she snaps, each word laced with that familiar bite, like she's two steps away from rolling her eyes and calling him a child.

the guys finally start to notice her now. the easy camaraderie fades into an awkward silence, heads turning toward her like she's some kind of rare animal wandering into their space. someone mutters something under their breath, and a few of them exchange glances.

clementine doesn't miss it. her gaze sweeps the room, taking in their poorly disguised curiosity, and her expression twists into something sharp and unimpressed.

"can you tell your minions to — i don't know — go do some hockey, or something?" she says, waving a manicured hand like she's swatting away a fly.

chris exhales through his nose, already tired. he doesn't bother responding, he doesn't have to. the guys, sensing the storm brewing, scatter like they're on a signal. suddenly, helmets and sticks are the most interesting things in the room.

she rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "god's sake," she mutters, more to herself than to anyone else.

"my 'minions' are exactly where they need to be, clem," chris says, straightening his back. his tone is calm, but there's steel in it, the kind of unshakable confidence that only makes her angrier. "you, on the other hand—"

"don't," she cuts him off, stepping closer, her heels clicking once against the floor. the sharp sound echoes like a warning.

chris raises an eyebrow, but she doesn't let him speak. "i'm not here for you," she says, her tone cool and dismissive. "i got off that road a long time ago."

"good for you," he replies, his mouth twitching into a faint smirk that doesn't reach his eyes.

her eyes flash, but she doesn't rise to the bait. instead, she tilts her chin up, her expression smoothing into something smug and calculated. "i'm here for landon."

the name lands like a stone between them. chris blinks, his head tilting slightly as his gaze shifts toward the rink. landon is leaning on his stick, pretending not to notice, but the tension in his shoulders gives him away.

"landon," chris repeats, drawing the word out like he's tasting it.

"yes, landon," she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "i figured, if you can date others, why can't i?"

the room feels colder now, quieter, like everyone's holding their breath. chris meets her gaze, his face impassive, but there's something simmering under the surface, something sharp and dangerous.

"right," he says finally, his tone light, almost careless. the indifference stings more than any insult could. her smile falters, just for a second, before she recovers.

"right," she echoes, but the word doesn't have the same weight. she crosses her arms tighter, her nails digging into the fabric of her coat. "do you even realize what you're throwing away, chris?"

he doesn't flinch, doesn't waver. "clem," he says quietly, "it was never that deep."

the words hit like a slap, and for a moment, she just stares at him. her composure cracks, her lips parting in shock before she snaps them shut again. "baby, of course it was," she says, and chris visibly cringes at the nickname, stepping back slightly like her words carry physical weight. "i was there for you," she presses, her voice rising, cracking at the edges. 

"and i appreciate that," he answers, his voice still calm but with a hard edge now. "but i need some space from... this." 

 her lips tighten, and for a moment, something vulnerable flickers in her expression before it hardens again. "did it all mean nothing to you?" she asks, her voice quieter now but no less sharp. "is that how heartless you are?" 

 chris rubs a hand over his jaw, his patience thinning. "i'm sorry that i hurt you, clem," he tries, but the words seem to hit her harder than anything else. she tenses, her chest rising and falling as though she's gearing up for another fight. and when it comes, it's a flood — a tirade of anger and accusations that spills out of her, each word sharper than the last. 

 the guys on the ice stop pretending to work, their curiosity getting the better of them, but chris doesn't flinch. he stands there, taking it all in with a calm that only makes her more furious. when she finally stops, red-faced and breathless, he shrugs. 

 "you're unbelievable," she hisses, her voice quieter now but no less cutting. 

 "i'm just being honest," he says simply, the finality in his tone leaving no room for argument. 

 she takes a deep breath, visibly working to pull herself together, before fixing him with a cold, predatory smile. "well, we both know where this ends up, right?" 

chris frowns slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "oh no, i won't—" 

 "what 'you won't'?" she interrupts, stepping closer. "that's how it's always been, no?" 

 "clem, i'm really not going to—" 

 "sweetheart," she coos, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she places a hand on his arm. the touch sends an involuntary shiver through him, and he stiffens under her fingers. "we've done this so many times, and every time it ends the same." her voice softens, the honeyed tone laced with venom. "this is what you always do, chris. you break up with me, and then you come back a few months later, like a little puppy." 

 chris's jaw clenches, his patience finally snapping. "don't get your hopes up, clem," he says, his voice firm, colder now. "it won't happen this time." 

 her mask slips for just a second, her confidence wavering, but she recovers quickly. "fine," she says sharply, her tone clipped. "but don't come to me when she dumps you. i won't be there." 

with that, she spins on her heel, her heels clicking loudly against the tile as she stalks out of the room. the door slams shut behind her, and the muffled sounds of the rink seep back into the space. 

the silence she leaves behind is deafening. chris exhales, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping as the tension finally bleeds out of him. clementine has always been a storm — loud, chaotic, and impossible to ignore. but this time, he doesn't feel the pull to chase after her, to fix things.

this time, he just feels... free.

he stands straight, adjusting his helmet and grabbing his stick. it's time to focus on what really matters now — and for once, that does not include clementine laurier.

ᵣₒₓ !!

the jersey 😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅 haha!!!!!!

long ass chapter of 4000 words don't forget to leave a comment bc i LOVE reading those

anyway now i gotta lock in for exam season wish me luck 🤞🤞 (chem is gonna kill me)