Page 29 of Glory Troll

The day we left Scotland was the single shittiest day of my life so far. I’d said goodbye to Ollie the night before, only slipping into my room, bleary-eyed, at five thirty in the morning to make it look like I had slept there.

I hadn’t slept. Hadn’t wanted to waste a single waking moment with him, and I had held him when he had finally succumbed to sleep in the dark of the night, before the morning hit and our time ended.

With one last kiss and the promise that I would see him soon—although I had no idea how I could make that happen—I had left him behind in the bed that smelled like us, under the covers thatcocooned him in my warmth, his beautiful body covered in our combined fluids.

My heart thumped sadly in my chest, almost too heavy for me to move my body at all, and so large it cut off my air supply. So I trudged back downstairs to the bus, close to tears, when Coach told us he had arranged for us to leave without being seen off.

“Let them sleep. We took care of the formalities yesterday,” he said jovially, looking fresh as day in his team hoodie, his cheeks red with the crisp Scottish morning air.

We had about two hours on the coach before we would arrive at the airport, then another two hours to check in all our gear before we would board the plane.

In about eight hours I would be back in Veitsreuth, wishing with all my heart I hadn’t left that stupid little muscle back in that big bed with the white sheets and my bright star, the firefly in my dark forest, guiding me home yet tearing me apart. Two souls dwelling in my breast, the one that felt thankful and elated to be paid to do what I loved, to even have found something that made me burn so thoroughly like hockey did. And the other, forever wanting to go back to get lost in the woods with my perfect mate.

I chose a seat in the middle, not too close to Jerke, but also not too far back. The one you sat in to disappear. Popping my noise cancelling headphones on, I started some music, not caring what it was or by whom, simply hoping to disappear in my head.

We’d long since left the winding country roads behind and headed southeast to the airport, when a little blip alerted me to a new message, with more following in rapid succession.

Ollie: Oh God, Bo

Ollie: I just woke up, and you were gone

Ollie: I am so sorry I fell asleep

Ollie: fuck, I wanted to kiss you one last time

Ollie: tell you

Bo: I love you

It took almost two whole minutes for him to reply

Ollie: I love you

Ollie: I love you

Ollie: I love you

Then a voice message came through. I immediately played it and once I started, I couldn’t stop.

“Screw this. Writing isn’t enough. I need to tell you.” He took a deep breath. “Bo, darling, I love you with everything I am. You are the best thing that’s—” He broke off, choking on his words. “The best thing that has ever happened to me. I’m so sorry I fell asleep. I love you.”

Silent tears leaked out of my eyes and trickled into my beard. I bit my lip hard and kept my gaze fixed on the scene outside the windows. Rain lashed against the glass, making my reflection blurry and indistinguishable.

Bo: I can’t talk right now. Forgive me please and don’t be sorry. I held you until it was time to leave, and I kissed you goodbye. You are…so good. So sweet and beautiful. I love you, Oliver Bright.

I broke down, curled up in my seat, and wept into the APEX Fitness hoodie one of Blue Kraken’s main sponsors had given us as a goodbye present.

With the rain delaying our flight, the need to mask my true feelings, and the anger I felt for being cheated out of hours I could have spent with Ollie, I arrived home feeling empty and exhausted.

Night had almost fallen, the rapidly darkening air had enough bite to make me shiver as I threw open all the windows and doors to my rooftop deck.

I knew I should have taken a shower before I headed to bed, to wash the grime of travel off me, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Tomorrow I would, but tonight I wanted to enjoy the lingering traces of Ollie on my body. Like a creep, and feeling just a little bit gross, I rubbed my hands all over me before sniffing them, inhaling his musk like an addict desperately licking the last molecules of his drug of choice off his own skin.

One afternoon, about three weeks after we’d left and when I had just finished training, I immediately checked for more texts from him. Every time I was away for a few hours and unable to keep the conversation going, I feared it would have been the last time I’d heard from him. That one day he simply wouldn’t answer anymore.

He’s still here.

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