Page 65 of Speak in Fever
The withdrawal starts small. When Percy suggests dinner at his place after practice, Rath claims he has plans with JP. When Percy texts about watching a movie together, Rath says he's tired and heads to his apartment instead.
"You sure you don't want to come over?" Percy asks after their second practice that week, his expression mildly confused by Rath's sudden unavailability. "I was going to make that pasta you like."
The casual offer—making food Rath enjoys, spending a quiet evening together—would have felt sweet a week ago. Now it just feels like Percy maintaining their convenient arrangement, keeping his regular hook-up satisfied and available.
"I've got some stuff to take care of at home," Rath lies, forcing a smile. "Rain check?"
Percy nods, but there's something uncertain in his expression, like he's trying to figure out what he's missing.
By the end of the week, Rath hasn't been to Percy's apartment once. Hasn't spent a night there, hasn't fallen asleep to Percy's steady breathing, hasn't woken up to coffee already brewing and breakfast appearing as if by magic.
He misses it desperately, which only confirms how screwed he is.
"You're being weird," Torres announces during Friday's practice, skating up beside Rath during a water break. "Like, weirder than usual. Which is saying something."
"I'm not being weird," Rath protests, though he knows Torres isn't wrong. He's been going through the motions all week, executing drills with mechanical precision but none of his usual flair or enthusiasm.
"You are absolutely being weird. You haven't chirped anyone in three days. You turned down team dinner yesterday. And you keep staring at Cap like he's personally offended you somehow."
Rath glances across the ice to where Percy is talking to Coach, noting the relaxed confidence in his posture, the easy authority he carries without effort. Even from this distance, Percy is magnetic in a way that makes Rath's chest ache with want and hopelessness in equal measure.
"I'm not staring," Rath mutters.
"Right," Torres says dryly. "What's going on? You and Cap have been off all week. Are you guys fighting again?"
Rath realizes Torres is right. Their on-ice connection, usually effortless, has been stilted and awkward all week. They're still technically proficient, but the telepathic understanding that makes them so effective has disappeared behind Rath's careful emotional distance.
"We're fine," Rath says weakly.
"You're not fine. Neither of you is fine. And it's affecting the whole team dynamic." Torres lowers his voice. "Whatever's going on between you two, figure it out.”
The rest of practice continues with the same forced normalcy, their usual chemistry replaced by professional competence that gets the job done but lacks any spark. Percy keeps glancing at Rath with growing confusion, clearly trying to figure out why their connection feels so strained.
In the locker room afterward, Rath changes quickly, hoping to escape before Percy can corner him for one of those concerned captain conversations that will only make everything worse. But as he's grabbing his bag, Percy appears beside his stall.
"Hey," Percy says quietly, his voice carrying the careful tone of someone trying not to spook a skittish animal. "Everything okay? You seem... distant lately."
Distant. Like Percy has noticed Rath pulling away but can't figure out why. Like their sudden lack of contact is confusing rather than hurtful.
"Just tired," Rath lies, shouldering his bag. "Long week."
"Maybe you should come over tonight," Percy suggests, and there's something almost tentative in his voice. "Get some decent sleep instead of whatever you've been doing at your place."
The offer is gentle, concerned, exactly the kind of care that made Rath fall for Percy in the first place. It would be so easy to say yes, to fall back into the comfortable routine of shared space and quiet intimacy.
But that would just make it harder when Percy eventually gets bored and moves on to someone more appropriate, more established, more worth keeping around long-term.
"I'm good," Rath says, heading toward the exit. "See you tomorrow."
He leaves before Percy can respond, missing the hurt confusion that flickers across his captain's face.
Saturday's practice is worse. Their timing is completely off, passes that should be automatic require extra effort, and the natural flow that usually makes their line shifts look effortless has disappeared entirely. Coach calls them out twice for miscommunication, and Rath can see their teammates exchanging concerned looks.
"Killinger, Platts," Coach says during a break, his voice carrying the particular frustration of someone watching a well-oiled machine break down for no apparent reason. "Whatever's going on with your chemistry, figure it out. You're dragging down the entire power play unit."
The public criticism makes Rath's cheeks burn with embarrassment, but he just nods professionally and returns to the drill. The next attempt is marginally better, but still lacks the intuitive connection that usually makes them so dangerous together.
After practice, Rath is heading for his car when JP intercepts him in the parking lot.
