Chapter Text
I
SPACES
CHARLIE
Eden Hall wasn’t exactly what Charlie Conway had imagined. As he stood in front of the sprawling campus, its pristine lawns stretching into the distance, a cold wind whipping at his face, he couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that settled deep in his gut. This was supposed to be his big moment—the culmination of everything he and the Ducks had fought for. But all he felt was loss.
It should have been a proud day. Being recruited to Eden Hall, a school with a prestigious hockey program, should’ve been every kid’s dream. But Charlie wasn’t like every other kid. He was a Duck. He had a team, a family, and in that family, he had been something more than just another player on the ice.
But here, none of that mattered anymore. The moment they set foot on this campus, everything had changed. His identity as a Duck, the bond he shared with his teammates, the camaraderie that had held them together through thick and thin—it was all slipping through his fingers faster than he could hold on.
The first gut punch came when Coach Bombay told them he wouldn’t be staying. Charlie remembered the moment vividly, standing in the locker room as Bombay announced that he’d be leaving to work for the Goodwill Games. It felt like the ground had been ripped from beneath him. Bombay wasn’t just a coach; he was the coach—the man who had believed in them when no one else would, the man who had shaped Charlie into the player and person he was. And now, just like that, he was leaving.
Charlie tried to be happy for him. He really did. Bombay was moving on to bigger and better things, but that knowledge did little to ease the bitterness bubbling inside Charlie’s chest. Bombay had promised to always be there for them, to guide them. And now, just when Charlie needed him the most, he was gone.
But losing Bombay wasn’t the only thing gnawing at him. If that had been the end of it, maybe Charlie could’ve found a way to deal with the change. Maybe he could’ve coped with Bombay leaving, telling himself they were growing up, that things changed, that he had to move forward. But losing Adam Banks? That was a whole different kind of pain.
Adam had been Charlie’s best friend, his teammate, the one person Charlie had come to rely on, the one person he thought he could always count on. But Adam was different now. He was Varsity.
Charlie couldn’t forget the sting of hearing that Adam had been bumped up to play for the Varsity team. It wasn’t just about losing him as a teammate. It was about the fact that Adam, the one person who was supposed to be with him through all of this, was suddenly living in a different world—one Charlie couldn’t reach. Varsity practices were at different times. Varsity players had different schedules, different priorities. They had different everything.
Worse, Adam was pulling away. Every time Charlie saw him in the halls, walking with the Varsity guys, laughing like he belonged with them, a fresh wave of anger surged through him. They were supposed to be in this together. Adam wasn’t supposed to leave him behind. But here they were, in the same school, yet worlds apart.
And the fighting. That had been the worst part. In the past few weeks, he and Adam had started clashing at every turn. It had started small—snide comments during class, sarcastic jabs in the hallway. But now, it seemed like they couldn’t be in the same room without arguing. They were competing over everything—who was doing better in their classes, who was excelling on the ice. Even when they weren’t supposed to be rivals, they somehow found ways to tear each other down.
Charlie hated it. Hated how much things had changed between them. Hated that every time he saw Adam, all he felt was anger and frustration instead of the deep connection they used to share. He was angry at Adam for pulling away, angry at him for joining Varsity, angry at him for fitting in so easily with his new team. But more than anything, Charlie was angry at himself. Because deep down, he knew the real reason behind all of it—the real reason he was lashing out.
He was still in love with Adam.
Charlie had fallen for Adam years ago, back when Adam had first joined the Ducks on the ice. Back when Adam was still the quiet, blonde boy who always played by the rules and Charlie was the scrappy kid who fought for every inch. But Charlie could never tell him. He’d always known that Adam’s father would never allow it, that Adam himself might not even understand. And now, with Adam drifting further and further away, Charlie knew he’d missed his chance.
The more distance that grew between them, the worse Charlie’s frustration got. He couldn’t talk to Adam about it—couldn’t explain why it hurt so much to see him walking away. So instead, he let his anger take over. Every time they argued, Charlie would push harder, say something crueler, anything to cover up the hurt he was feeling inside. Anything to keep Adam from seeing how much it was killing him.
And now, Charlie wasn’t even captain anymore. The one thing that had always made him feel like he had a purpose, like he had some kind of control over his world, was gone. The title was stripped from him, thrown away without a second thought. That, more than anything, was the final blow. It was as if Eden Hall had taken everything that made Charlie who he was and tossed it aside, leaving him with nothing.
As Charlie stood there after practice, clutching his stick, he felt like he was suffocating. His chest was tight, his head spinning with a thousand thoughts, none of them making sense. He had been off all day, missing passes and skating slower than usual. His game was a mess, but it wasn’t his legs that were failing him—it was his mind. He was thinking too much, caught in his own head, spiraling into a never-ending loop of anger, regret, and heartache.
Fulton Reed, his longtime friend and fellow Duck, skated toward him quietly. Charlie barely noticed until he felt the heavy weight of Fulton’s hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, you alright, man?” Fulton’s voice was steady, but filled with concern.
Charlie swallowed hard, blinking back the frustration and emotion threatening to spill over. He shook his head, but didn’t trust himself to speak right away. Instead, he gripped his stick tighter, knuckles white from the pressure. He had been off all practice. Not on his game. Not focused. Because all he could think about was how everything was falling apart.
“You’ve been off all day, Charlie,” Fulton continued, his grip on Charlie’s shoulder tightening, grounding him. “You’re in your head too much. Whatever’s going on… we’re here for you. You don’t have to go through it alone.”
Charlie let out a shaky breath but didn’t answer right away. He knew Fulton was right. The rest of the Ducks—Fulton, Goldberg, Connie, everyone—they were all still here, still with him. But it didn’t feel the same. Without Bombay, without Adam, without the captaincy, it felt like everything was slipping away, piece by piece.
Charlie finally looked up at Fulton, giving him a small, weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Yeah,” Charlie said softly, even though he didn’t believe it. “Yeah, I’m alright.”
But as Fulton’s hand dropped from his shoulder and he skated off toward the locker room, Charlie stayed behind, still clutching his stick, still trying to hold himself together.
Because deep down, Charlie knew he wasn’t alright.
Not even close.