Chapter 1
Conceal the existence of (something undesirable)."grievances should be discussed, not camouflaged"
Sasha Yelchin is a smart guy.
He knows he is.
He speaks two languages (and he knows how to ask for vodka in three more) and he's fucking funny in both, in his humble opinion.
He's quick with math, quick with tallying points mid-game and figuring out what he needs to do to win.
He's good at it, and he's fucking smart.
But sometimes.
He can be really fucking stupid.
Because in his rush to get out of the hallway, to escape the open space in which he was clearly visible, he neglected to glance through the window into Ezra Thornton's room to check if anyone else was there— maybe a nurse or doctor or someone from Ezra's team.
And he's already in the room, shutting the door behind himself as quietly as he can before he realises that not only is there someone other than Ezra in the room, but there are three someones other than Ezra.
And, as if he hasn't already fucked up spectacularly, the someones happen to be the Thorntons and fucking Gavin Sterling.
Arthur Thornton is a perpetually confused man.
He counts his blessings every day that he married such a patient woman, and that their one and only child took after her mellow manner.
They're both faster learners, and if Arthur is honest, he'd worried that Ezra would take after him— which he does in other ways, really.
Arthur's never had to tell him to turn the volume down to protect his hearing or to check the expiration date on whatever's in the fridge before eating it.
But Arthur has never really grasped the internet, or Wave or anything like that.
(Connect-xl and Pi-Sphere if he feels like being annoying to Ezra, who doesn't even have either, that Arthur knows of.) He gets confused about things people say, and the way they say them, and he gets confused about why in the actual hell Sasha Yelchin walks into rooms without knocking.
And why Sasha Yelchin is here at all.
The room falls silent.
Yelchin blinks, expression falling into something startled, like he hadn't been expecting them all to be there, and he steps back a little toward the door.
Hana Thornton lets out a soft Uhm...
and it's comforting to know that she's at a loss too.
Gavin doesn't say anything, but he shifts where he's standing by Ezra's bed, feet twisting just slightly against the ground like he's bracing himself.
Ezra breaks the silence.
"Hi," he says lightly.
He's high, woozy, and his voice is too high in his throat.
It sounds ridiculous.
Yelchin stares at Ezra.
Arthur can't read his face, can't interpret the shine of his eyes or the way he's looking so intently at Ezra in his sling and hospital gown.
"Hello," he says finally, accent heavy.
"I wanted to, uhm..."
He stops.
Swallows.
Stares at Ezra some more.
Arthur glances at Ezra, checking, but he doesn't look uncomfortable or anxious— Arthur's learned to read that on him.
He tends to smile awkwardly, tilting his head or ducking it shyly, cheeks pink (which Arthur wouldn't really be able to see now under the soft red purple bruising).
His eyes flick about like he's looking for an escape.
But Ezra just looks right back at Yelchin, and maybe it's that he's concussed, or maybe it's the drugs.
(Ezra had referred to them as 'good shit' when he'd woken up.
It had caught Arthur and Hana and the nurse off-guard.)
"How are you feeling?" Yelchin says.
"Thornton."
"Better," Ezra says softly.
He shoves his hands in his pockets, and he leans back against the door a little like he's trying to seep through it, and he glances around.
His eyes meet Arthur's briefly, and Arthur thinks he looks scared. He's never seen Yelchin like this, and really, he's known him a long time.
Known of him, at least.
What, since their rookie year?
Maybe a little before that?
He's Sasha fucking Yelchin— scary Sarmatian, bad boy player, hockey legend even before he signed into the PHL.
He looks so small right now, hovering by the door, looking at Ezra like he's searching for something.
"Gagnon wanted to come see you," Yelchin says.
"But the others worried it would upset you."
"So they sent you?" Gavin says.
It startles Arthur, who'd almost forgotten he was there at all.
"I, uhm..." Yelchin looks away from Ezra.
"I wanted to see how he is doing."
"Come here," Ezra says before Gavin can reply, before Hana can thank him politely for checking on their boy and send him on his way.
Yelchin blinks.
Arthur blinks.
He glances at Ezra, who doesn't look like he's blinked at all.
"Thornton," Yelchin says in a low voice.
Slowly.
"I don't care," Ezra says, and his voice cracks, breaks in his throat, and that's why he looks like he hasn't blinked, because he's crying. His eyes are glistening, tears threatening to spill, and Arthur distantly hears Hana make a soft sound.
"Come here.
Please?"
That please. Arthur's never heard Ezra sound like that, voice weak and pitiful like he's begging.
Pleading.
Hana says Ezra's name softly, and Gavin turns a little toward the bed again like he's going to put his hand on him, and Yelchin exhales.
Arthur hears it, the soft rush of his breath like a sigh, and then he looks back at him just as Yelchin moves, stepping away from the door in a rush.
Gavin makes a sound of protest, a startled Hey, and Yelchin doesn't seem to hear it, because he's pushing Arthur aside gently, muttering a quiet Excuse me, and Ezra is reaching up with his only functioning arm, and Yelchin is sitting on the bed next to Ezra's legs, and
they're hugging.
Ezra's arm wraps around Yelchin's neck tightly, and his face is hidden, tucked between Yelchin's neck and his own arm.
Yelchin's arms wrap around Ezra in a way that looks almost tender.
Actually, Arthur thinks, eyes scanning over their embrace, not almost tender.
Tender.
It is tender.
Yelchin's hand slides up Ezra's back, holds the back of his neck, tucks into his hair, and his head is down too, buried in Ezra's neck.
They're swaying a little, rocking back and forth so slowly Arthur doesn't notice it at first, not until he hears Ezra sniffle.
He doesn't remember the last time he saw Ezra cry.
He didn't cry much when he was young, even when he was a toddler, bumping and bonking into walls and furniture as he got his footing, his centre of gravity wonky.
He didn't laugh much either then, like he was too focused, concentrating.
But now, he's crying.
Sniffling into Sasha Yelchin's shoulder, letting him cradle the back of his head.
Arthur tears his eyes away, looks up at his wife.
She's staring, wide-eyed, lips parted, and her eyes are glistening.
Arthur thinks briefly about how beautiful she is.
He looks at Gavin, whose face is contorted in perplexion, eyebrows drawn, eyes wide, nose wrinkled a bit.
Arthur's always thought the Thornton-Yelchin rivalry was more of a Sterling-on-behalf-of-Thornton-Yelchin rivalry.
"You scared me," Yelchin says.
His voice is muffled.
His fingers curl into Ezra's hair, stroking his head.
"'M sorry," Ezra chokes.
"Mm." Yelchin pulls away, lifts his head, and he looks at Ezra intently.
He looks angry, face tense, but he touches Ezra's face so softly he's barely touching him at all.
Tender.
He runs his thumb over Ezra's cheek, brushes the backs of his fingers over it.
"No apology."
They fall quiet again.
Arthur glances at Hana, then Gavin, and he looks back at the boys on the bed.
They look small, holding each other close like they've forgotten that there are others in the room at all.
Ezra holds Yelchin's shoulder.
Yelchin touches his face again.
"Does it hurt?" Yelchin asks.
"Not right now," Ezra whispers.
"I'm a little high."
"You look more than little high."
It makes Ezra laugh, giggle, and then Ezra falls forward against Yelchin, pressing his forehead to Yelchin's cheek.
Yelchin exhales shakily, running a hand over Ezra's head.
"Sorry, what the fuck is going on right now?" Gavin bursts.
It startles them all judging by the way both Ezra and Yelchin jump, the way Hana gasps, but Ezra doesn't lift his head.
"Can we..." He trails off, mumbling.
"Can we talk later?"
"Who are you talking to?" Arthur asks just as Hana is taking a breath to speak.
"Just...
Just in general," Ezra says, voice so light it sounds forced.
"I don't really feel like..."
The room falls quiet again.
"Yeah," Arthur says, glancing at Hana and Gavin again.
"That's okay, we can talk later.
Don't worry about it."
Ezra just groans quietly, moving to press his face into Yelchin's neck.
"Do you want us to give you a minute?" Hana asks.
Her voice is soft.
"Mm."
"Yes, please."
Arthur looks at Yelchin.
He's looking down resolutely, like he's scared of meeting any of their gazes.
He's still got a hand in Ezra's hair, combing through it like he's done it before, like it's natural.
"That's okay," Arthur says.
He puts a hand on Hana's back, prompting her toward the door.
"We'll check in later, okay?"
"Mhmm."