Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

M/M, Multi

Fandom:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationships:

Marcus Lewis/Anong Okafor, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Cassie Boodram/Zane Boodram, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais/Carter Vaughn, Rose Landry/Svetlana Vetrova

Characters:

Marcus Lewis, Anong Okafor, Shane Hollander, Zane Boodram, Ilya Rozanov, Svetlana Vetrova, Carter Vaughn, Cassie Boodram, Original Characters, Luca Haas, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, LaPointe (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Racist Language, Internalized Homophobia, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Marcus Lewis - Freeform, Anong Okafor - Freeform, Good Friend Shane Hollander, Good Friend Ilya Rozanov, Good Friend Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Good Friend Carter Vaughn, Good Friend Zane Boodram, Good Friend Svetlana Vetrova, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders (Game Changers), Ottawa Centaurs (Game Changers), Mentioned Roger Crowell, Angst and Humor, like it takes a hot minute for them to say they like each other, Homophobic Language, Racism, It's a white man sport so yeah lol, Native American/First Nations Culture, African Folklore, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Black Character(s)

Language:

English

Series:

Part 7 of Shane and Dem Boyz

Stats:

Published: 2026-06-29 Updated: 2026-08-19 Words: 22,419 Chapters: 5/12

My Shining Star

Summary

Marcus Lewis knew he would be a superstar. The media pundits, hockey heads, and even casual fans gave him the moniker of generational talent. It was evident when he was drafted as the 6th pick of the 2023 MHL Draft to the Carolina Reapers. He was destined to greatness. After a rocky rookie season, unironically crushing hard on his teammate Anong “Star” Okafor, and a controversial trade that sent him to his home team – the Boston Bears – Marcus now had to reflect on what it meant being a superstar as a Queer Black man and how to love his own shining star.

Yamhead Ash Cooper’s contribution to the GCU – introducing Marcus Lewis and Anong “Star” Okafor
Inspired by: Shining Star by Earth, Wind and Fire.

Chapter 1: you're not the big fish in the pond no more

Chapter Notes

Welcome to first chapter of Marcus’ and Anong’s story.
Please be mindful of the tags. If this story is not for you, I implore you leave.
I will also note that no ai was used for the fic. I hate ai. The only ai I like is Allen Iverson.
Thank you for clicking this fic, and I hope you enjoy it.

Cw/Tw: homophobic and racist language.
Chapter Song: Ain’t It Fun by Paramore.

June 28^th, 2023.

Nashville, Tennessee.

The strange lighting of the Bridgestone Arena, in Nashville Tennessee, brought an interesting feeling to Marcus. He was currently sitting at a round table, with his mother to his left, his father to his right, with the other seats filled out with his sister, close cousins and other important people of his team. At this moment, this day would be marked as the most important day of his life. He was slated to go high in the first round of the 2023 Major Hockey League draft, and all of the talking heads, locals and whispers from the Bears front office all hoped that he dropped to the 9^th pick, that would lead him to be drafted to the Boston Bears and staying home.

Marcus Lewis was the embodiment of a Boston kid. Just not what people expect when they finally see his face or realized that his accent isn’t pronounced and caricature like the Wahlberg’s, or when they realized (and unwillingly acknowledged) that he was Black. That didn’t bother Marcus one bit, because Boston was home. He knew the innerworkings of all four lines and knew the conductors of the Red-Line by their voice (and eventually by name). He knew which streets to walk with which friends when he was with his mother in Dorchester, and how to slightly guilt trip the college freshmen at Northeastern University when he was with his father in Roxbury. He knew all the niche (and not so niche) *Black* Bostonian things that he would yell from the roof tops once someone asked where he was from. It was his city, and it was the city that brought him to his pride and joy – hockey. He had fond memories of hopping off either the green or orange line at North Station and trekking into the historical TD Garden, where he would see his favorite team clad in black, white and gold and dominate the ice. He remembered clearly, at the tender age of nine watching Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander face off each other and declaring that he was going to be like one of them one day (one comparison was taken way better than the other – though Marcus would like to state that Shane Hollander is his GOAT). So being drafted by his home team and staying home would be everything that Marcus would ever dream about.

However, Marcus knew better. He was better than the 9^th pick that the Boston Bears currently owned – one acquired through various rosters reconstruction after the departure of Rozanov. If it was up to him, and his team, he wouldn’t have dropped past the 5^th pick. But Marcus was ‘controversial’. Which was just code for him being Black, and potentially (the media was still unsure as there were some serious ethical implications on speculating on a 17-year old’s sexuality) queer. That was it. So, there was no way in hell that picks 2-6 – where everyone anticipated he would go – would choose him. Even knowing that choice, he started to get antsy. It was less from the I understand how the hockey world perceives me, and more from the oh they might hate me lens. It was one that was making his stomach hurt. The thought process came to a halt when he heard the draft representatives – Rhett and Link (Marcus paused for a second, wondering if he had transported to a sketch for Good Mythical Morning) – called his name.

“For the 7^th pick of the MHL draft, the Carolina Reapers picked…. Marcus Lewis, from Boston, Massachusetts.”

Hugs, kisses and applauses clouded Marcus’ view as he made his way up to the stage. After firm handshake to Commissioner Roger Corwell and big hugs from Rhett and Link, he slipped on the jersey over his suit with a smirk across his face, knowing that the commissioner had a pained smile across his. Upon reflection, Marcus found the commissioner’s hostility to him amusing and pitiful. He knew how the league tried to downplay Scott Hunter, how they tried to exile Hollander and Rozanov, and how Carter Vaughn, Jean-Jacques Boiziau and Zane Boodram all had to take the league to court for discrimination. Oh, he knew, but as a tweet he saw the next day would state, tell the world that Marcus ‘fuckin’ Lewis is here and no one is going to stop him.

September 2023

Raliegh, North Carolina

It was the final day of training camp and Marcus was tired. He wished he was tired because he was exhausting himself out on the ice. The training itself was brutal; the coaching staff wasn’t going easy on any of the 40 players that were trying to cement themselves on the final roster. They put them through extensive drills and scrimmages that had grown men crying about new aches they never had before. Despite Marcus’ legs feeling like jelly at the end of the final day, he wasn’t tired because of the hockey. He knew he was putting on show – displaying to the coaching staff (and occasionally the front office) that they made the right choice. Looking at him intently from the stands was also his new looker room leadership. Wesley Bishop, a stalky buff man, with a crooked grin and slight malicious glint in his eyes, was Marcus’ new captain and through the pipelines was nothing but a pain in the ass. Him, alongside is two alternates – Lenox Phelps and David Brook – were currently the source of Marcus’ exhaustion. They were tiring.

The three men did not participate in training camp; their positions were secured. However, they were adamant on setting the standards to their locker room culture from the beginning. They did not want any distractions (which was said as they looked intently at Marcus and to his locker mate – Anong Okafor, the only two people of color in the locker room), no drama, no sissies – just strong men who cares about hockey. Marcus might be only 18 but he is no idiot. They’ve already marked him for being the ‘problem’ in the locker room before he had even spoken a word. That was their problem though, because if it was one thing that he was always sure about, is that he was going to be himself, regardless of what anyone thought. This brought some issues, because within the three weeks of camp, his rookie hazing went from filling his car with plush pepper toys (harmless, cute, inconvenient but it’s whatever) to dousing his clothes in Carolina reaper hot sauce (dangerous, irritating, and what if he was allergic? Then what?). It didn’t help that the only non-facility person that was willing to help him with the matter was Anong. He wanted to file a complaint but then was quickly reminded that his MHLPA representative was one of the agitators. This was going to be a long year.

Somehow, despite him battling to find a place in the locker room, that wasn’t the most tumultuous thing that was happening. No, the one thing that kept him up at night, and was plaguing his mind was his locker mate – Anong Okafor. Marcus wished it was for reasons such as he is irritating, homophobic, racist (alas this would be considered as self-hatred) or simply a fucking douche. But no, it was neither, because Marcus’ brain has convinced him, within the first three weeks of his career, that Anong Okafor was the most perfect person in the entire world. It felt painful. Look, Marcus knew he was handsome. Growing up the older ladies (related aunties and not related aunties) would always turn to his mother and said, ‘he is such a handsome young man.’ By the time puberty and the final growth spurt kicked in, Marcus walked the hallways of his prep school, the streets of his neighborhoods, and aisles of the trains with a level of confidence that yelled ‘yes I look good and what are you going to do about it.’ At 6’3, broad shoulders, and beautiful dark skin that glistened under the sun’s rays – Marcus knew he was it. Knew so much, that he found himself being able to successfully rock a low cut, and (a very fashionable, if you ask him) goatee. However, Anong had to be the most beautiful, handsome, ethereal person he had ever set his eyes upon. He stood tall, not as tall as Marcus, but close enough, with a bulkier built that had Marcus asking about his workout routine and protein intake (which included a lot of lentils for some reason). His hair, jet black, flowed down to his shoulders with loose curls that Marcus stopped himself multiple times from aimlessly twirling it. His lips, plump, with a slight pink tint, was the harboring of his velveting voice and reassuring words.

So yes, the locker room has presented itself as a torture device. One that he must go to everyday because this is now his job. But he wouldn’t let the unfavorable (and the extremely favorable option of Anong Okafor), deter what he was drafted to do. He came here to play hockey and to play good fucking hockey. He also, might try his best to at least become best friends with Anong. At least.

October 2023

Burlington, North Carolina  

With the pre-season on its way, the energy that Marcus felt from hockey is finally settling into something comfortable. The final roster was ready for opening day and the locker room, while still polarizing, isn’t as uncomfortable as it was in the beginning. Marcus was afraid that he was getting complacent, but as much as he considers himself to be the one to go against the status quo, he wasn’t ready to be properly labeled as the problem child before the season properly started. He knew the implications of that, and his captain wouldn’t hesitate to remind him that he should be thankful that a sport for real authentic men would open its doors to welcome someone like him. The coded language was getting a little too hard to decipher. At this point, Marcus rather being hurled with slurs than whatever metaphorical racist and homophobic philosophy his captain was indulging in.

The good thing was that his friendship with Anong was slowly coming to fruition. Over the last three weeks, he made sure to sit with him at team lunches, on the bus, and ironically (it was very much deliberate) they were assigned to be each other roommates. This meant they were in each other’s orbits a lot, getting to know more about each other every day. Marcus has then learnt that Anong’s mother is First Nation form the Roseau River Anishinaabe First Nation Reserve. His father, an immigrant from Nigeria and that Anong was the eldest of four. That the locker rooms and the media calls him Star, as that’s the meaning of his name in Anishinaabe, and his agent and public relations see the marketability in the name but he also really liked when he is called Anong outside of the locker room (Marcus refused to call him Star, even if Anong said it was fine. Marcus did not want to be like everyone else). Marcus was also learning small tells about Anong, how he preferred to eat rice over potatoes; if he dabbled in a soft drink, it has to be a cold orange Fanta (they spent an entire afternoon laughing to themselves about Kel’s from Keenan and Kel ‘who loves orange soda’ comedic bit); how he would bite the left side of his lip and scrunch his eyebrows when he is thinking or; tap his fingers in a specific rhythm when he is nervous. He also knew how Anong was a lover of culture, especially all factors of his. Always reading, learning and willing to learn to about someone and their stories. An anthropologist if you ask Marcus how to describe him. This is why he wasn’t surprised when Anong asked if we would like to go to a Powwow with him over the weekend.

“I’ve heard a lot of about them but never saw one. Is it fun?” Marcus asked as he unlaced his skates. Anong, who was taking off his practice jersey gave him his famous small smile.

“Oh, it is a blast.”

This is how Marcus found himself an hour away from Raleigh in Burlington, North Carolina, standing in line to attend the Powwow for the Occaneechi Band of the Saponi Nation. Anong was next to him, with a smile brighter than he had ever seen before, excited as ever.

“I see someone is happy to me here.” Marcus chuckled as he raised his brow at Anong. Anong shrugged as he looked at the people around them. Marcus did his people watching earlier, noticing the vibrant colors, stitching and beadwork of the different regalia the performers wore, the large families, and friends, laughing, talking, and just fellowshipping with each other. Marcus was now watching Anong, and how the sleeves of his black long-sleeved shirt clung unto his muscles and the light blue denim of his jeans wrapped around his thick, muscular thighs and if the fit of the outfit wasn’t enough to send Marcus crazy, Anong’s long curls that were usually down, were now wrapped up into a bun that sat on the top of his head, showing off the recently lined up edges, and glistening gold hoops in his ears. He looked beautiful.

“Yes, I missed the ones at home so much, I try to catch the different ones throughout the state when I can.” Anong sighed with a small smile. “It’s such a fun community event, and it feels, nostalgic. Obviously, it’s not like how we do it home but close enough.”

“That’s good. I can’t wait to experience this with you.” Marcus said with a big smile. Anong chuckle he shrugged a bit.

The entire day was beautiful. Marcus wished it was solely about the event itself, and how the dances, the drumming, and singing captivated him. Or how he sat down with some of the elders and got their stories – both of horror and of joy. Or how they went from both to both, trying the different delicacies and souvenirs.  The day was beautiful because for the first time since they met, Marcus felt like he was able to see the real Anong. The one that greets people with a warm smile, and wide arms. Who let the aunties pinch his cheeks and call him handsome. The one who does a little dance when the food tastes great or scrunches his face when something isn’t. the one who was relaxed, felt at peace and not worried about what was going to happen next. Seeing this Anong made Marcus’ day, but Marcus also realized that he was thoroughly fucked. Because if he was falling hard for the Anong in the locker room, this Anong was having him ready to find a jeweler and proposed. They were just now becoming friends, and Marcus needed to get his feelings under control.

December 2023

Raleigh, North Carolina

Marucs loved brunch. Marcus couldn’t “legally” partake in the bottomless mimosas that many brunches advertise, but he surely loved a tall glass of champagne, with a hint of orange juice. He loved having the options of French toast, and then maybe a steak. He loved when the brunch had music playing, blending in with the conversations of the various patrons. Marcus loved when the brunch was somehow, a little queer. This is how, a week before Christmas, Marcus found himself at the local community center, hosting an everyone friendly Christmas Drag brunch, alongside his new friend (and decidedly one of his favorite persons), Heidi N Closet as various drag queens gave Christmas themed performances and handed out gifts (that he helped financed) to the many children in the crowd. Marcus was so proud of the event and its outcome. He made sure to take a picture with everyone that asked, used as a prop for any other queen, and ended the night with a crazy winged eyeliner and pink blush across his cheeks. What made the night even better, was seeing Anong in the back of the room, laughing and smiling at his theatrics. It was one of the best days of his life. But now he was very annoyed as he found himself in the coach’s office with the general manager and Bishop.

“This is a clear infringement of your contract Lewis.” The general manager, Alexander Peterson said, voice tense and laced with disgust. Marcus squinted his eyes at the older man, holding his tongue. He knew it was not an infringement of his contract. He spent hours combing through the document before he signed it with his agent and his lawyer, and knowing how ‘polarizing’ he is, he continues to review it, just in case.

He guessed the case is here.

“You have also blatantly gone against the morals and ethics of the organization. From September, we have informed you that it is important to not go against the standards of the locker room, and yet within the mere three months, you’ve done irredeemable damage.” His coach, Anderson stated with a scowl across his face.

“Can you please explain to me on how my contract was infringed and how I’ve gone against the team’s morals? Because I am to the belief that I did not.” Marcus said as he sat up straighter in his chair.

“You participated in an event that was unauthorized by management.” Peterson said.

“I participated in an event as Marcus Lewis, hockey player. I did not participate in the event saying that the Carolina Reapers sent me. I actually was very diligent to not mention the team at all. So, I am failing to see the issue.”

“And who made you a hockey player, Lewis.” Anderson hissed out. Marcus let out a loud dry chuckle, surprised at how blatant the question was.

“With all due respect, coach. Not you nor this organization. I am a hockey player because I spent every waking moment of my youth to become the best player to be drafted. And I am spending every waking moment now, as a professional player to continue to be better. If you did not believe that I was a hockey player, why did you draft me?” Marcus huffed out. He couldn’t believe the audacity that was present in the room right now.

“Can’t be focused every waking moment, if you’re out here doing faggot shit, embarrassing the organization and my fucking locker room, Lewy.” Bishop damn near spat on him.

“Bishop.” Anderson warned.

“Coach, it is the fucking truth. All fucking season he keeps on doing this liberal woke bullshit. First, he went to that stupid Indian shit with Okafor, and then that stupid thing at city hall, and now this? He is fucking up my locker room.” Marcus scrunched his face at the harsh language, but also trying to figure out what event he went to at city hall that would’ve had him so riled up.

“Bishop.” Peterson sighed. “Your complaints are heard, and valid. I will say that we did send him and Okafor to city hall in November, as it was something for Black History.” Ahh, that’s what that was. Marcus chuckled as Bishop seethed with anger as he stood behind their coach. If he tried hard enough, he would’ve been able to emit smoke out of his ears, as if he was a looney toon cartoon. If Marcus was being honest with himself, this conversation was nonsense and truly felt like a silly cartoon.

“Bishop, I thought Canadians were supposed to be nice.” Marcus smiled. “You’re like one infraction away from calling me the n-word.”

“You little –”

“Alright everyone!” Anderson shouted. “Lewis, you’re benched until further notice. Bishop, go run your fucking locker room. Everyone just go!” Marcus shrugged at the punishment as he stood up from his seat. He took that nonchalant attitude with him straight to the locker room to pick up his bag, and right into the player’s parking lot – where Anong was waiting for him at his car. Marcus nodded at him as he threw his bag onto the back seat and slid into the driver’s seat. Marcus leant against the steering wheel, letting out a loud sigh that made Anong worried.

“What did they say?” Anong finally asked as Marcus leant back up and turned on the car.

“Benched until further notice.” Marcus mumbled driving them out of the parking lot.

“Fuck.” Marcus hummed at Anong’s response because what else is there to say. Putting up the mask was important. He didn’t want management or Bishop to know that they do get to him. He knew the implications. Peterson was going to tell every GM in the league that he was difficult to work it, a problem, a troublesome rookie. His stocks were going to plummet, despite how good his on-ice performance was. Black, queer, and apparently a PR nightmare was a recipe for disaster, and he was the face of such disaster. Marcus sighed as he felt Anong’s hand rub the back of his neck, a clear attempt of grounding him the process. Marcus was very grateful for the action, grateful for his support and grateful for his presence; because this would be first time in his life that he was been without hockey, and he had no idea how to deal with that.

January 2024

Phoenix, Arizona

After a riveting win against Phoenix, the team decided to go their separate ways and experience what the city of Phoenix had to offer. This is how Marcus and Anong found themselves at hole in the wall pizza spot, splitting a meat lovers lover pizza with tall glasses of Shirley temple. Anong was in the middle of a story that had Marcus laughing so loud, that they kept getting stares from other patrons. Marucs didn’t care.

“You’re lying Anong.” Marcus chuckled before taking a bite of his pizza.

“Bro, I am so serious.” Anong laughed. “My father was so afraid he ran into the house yelling to my mother. Aki, Aki, Sandra, Baby, my wife, there is a big bat outside.” Anong said, mimicking his father’s Nigerian accent. “Now, my mother takes her name serious and love to say she is with the earth and went to check. The fucking bat? Was a moth. I’m like the dramatic African stereotype is living in the house.”

“Okay, okay, to be fair to pops.” Marcus laughed more as Anong gave him a side eye while he took a sip of his drink. “I bet you, it wasn’t a small moth either. You told me you were living close to forests and shit.”

“Man, I lived in fucking Winnipeg.” Anong sucked his teeth. “And the moth was like this big.” Marcus eyes widen as he watched Anong placed his hand for the length, he was certain was a six-inch sub (don’t question why he knew that length easily). Anong cackled at his reaction as Marcus shook his head.

“Yeah, I am definitely on pops side. What the fuck a moth is doing that big? No No No.” Marcus continue to ramble. Anong’s cackle turned into a fit of giggles as he tried to take another sip of his drink – making the drink bubble up a little.

“Ugh, I truly forget you’re such a city boy sometimes.” Anong smiled brightly. Marcus shrugged, picking up a piece of pepperoni from the last slice in front of him.

“Boston boy baby. All I know is unreliable trains and Dunkin’ Donuts.” He grinned. Anong rolled his eyes so hard, Marcus thought it would it stick in the back of his head.

“Dunkin’ mid anyways.” Anong shrugged. Marcus gasped loudly, dramatically clutched his chest with his non greasy hand.

“Anong Okafor, you take that back.” He faked yelled.

“Nope.” Anong said before sticking out his tongue. “The coffee bad, the hashbrowns got me confused. I don’t know man. I think y’all are suffering in Boston.”

“Broooo, fuck you!” Anong raised his brow with an amused look. “America runs on Dunkin’ because it’s the shit.” Marcus continued pleading his case. He could admit that Dunkin’ can be a hit or miss, but that’s the fucking point of Dunkin’, it’s not supposed to be perfect, it’s supposed to fuel, just good ole Boston shit.

“America runs on bullshit, that’s what it is.” Anong chuckled. Marcus sucked his teeth as he threw a crumpled-up napkin towards Anong. Anong caught it with ease, and threw the napkin back at him, before erupting into another set of giggles. Marcus couldn’t be mad at him (he really wasn’t anyways) and started to laugh as well. The pair continued joking and laughing until they paid the check and stumbled onto the streets, taking in the chilly night the desert produces in the winter. It wasn’t as cold and they experienced in their respective cities but brought something calming to them.

The pair walked back to their hotel, joking, and walking into each other. Marcus felt his body go through a shock every time Anong’s shoulder brushed passed him. It was intoxicating. The scent of his cologne and leave in conditioner sent chills through his spine and he tried his best to not lean and sniff him. That would be weird and extremely embarrassing. Marcus kept telling himself that his crush needs to be under control. Just because Anong was okay with hanging out with him, that doesn’t mean that was Anong wasn’t straight. He had straight homies who love to hang with him. They were just friends; they were close to being best pals. Plus, Marcus didn’t need to indulge into the fantasy of being with Anong. He already had a line up in Carolina and maybe the east coast that was becoming part of his routine. And if one or two of them reminded him of Anong, that was no one’s business. The crush needed to end, but it only continues to bloom when they finally stepped into their shared hotel room, out of breath from the race they did from the elevator to the end of the hallway.

As they both hunched over to catch their breath, Marcus turned his eyes to see Anong’s brown eyes staring deeply at him. His breath hitched back, as Anong licked his lips, heavy breaths filling the room.

“I’m about to do something crazy. Punch me if you need to.” Before Marcus could properly process what Anong just said, he felt the man’s hand on his face, pulling him into a kiss. Marcus’ mind stalled for a bit. The thing that he was dreaming about, night and day was finally happening, and he was stuck. When he felt Anong pull away with a panicked look on his face, Marcus stood up straight, pulling the man into him before there was a change to panic. Marcus kissed Anong, and kissed Anong hard. Their mouths moved in synch, as if months of tension and want bleed out of them. As Anong parted his mouth, Marcus slipped in tongue in, getting a small moan in response. The crush needed to end, but Marcus couldn’t help but sinking in further, as the sweet taste of the Shirley temple and the warmth of Anong’s mouth continued to fuel his fantasy.

March 2024

Miami, Florida

“You think you can score this shift. Because if I have to hear Bishop’s bitch ass yelling at us damn third liners for not scoring when he hasn’t done shit all game, I am going to lose my shit.” Anong mumbled to Marcus as they skate to the center of the ice. Marcus laughed loudly as he his position for the face – off. Anong isn’t usually the one to be bitchy about something, but as the season progressed, his tolerance for their captain fizzled into something non-existent. It doesn’t help that the game was currently at 0-0, neither them nor Florida being able to score during the first two periods. With about 5 minutes left in the 2^nd period, coach threw his line in, hoping that something happened.

Marcus was determined that it will.

Once the puck dropped, Marcus entered a state of tunneled vision that pushed his body through the ice. He made the right moves, avoid the particularly hard checks, and retrieved the puck just in time to send it right through the net. Once the goal was confirmed, he let out heavy breath, letting his teammates jostle him a little in celebration. The score now beautifully state 0-1, Carolina. Jumping back over the boards to the bench, Anderson gave him a small nod, before giving attention to then next shift. Marcus rolled his eyes as he plopped down on the bench, picking up his Gatorade, hoping for quick nourishment. Next to him, Anong pushed his shoulder lightly, filled with joy that he scored.

“That’s what I’m fucking talking about Lewy.” Anong mumbled before picking up his own beverage. “Now, if they would only let you do that shit more often, we might actually fucking win games.” Marcus chuckled at Anong’s rant. It wasn’t the first time Anong had that complaint, and he was positive it wouldn’t be the last time either. As he shifted his focus back to the ice, a hand lightly tapped his shoulder. Turning around quickly he noticed it was the assistant coaches calling for his attention. He looked up at the man was crouching down, thinking they were about to look over some plays. What he didn’t expect were the assistant coach, within the ear shot of Anong and his teammates to share news that would change the course of his life forever.

“Lewis, get off the bench. You’ve just been traded.”

ESPN✔️ @espn

BREAKING: The Carolina Reapers are trading Center Marcus Lewis and two second round picks (2025) to the Boston Bears, for one first round pick (2026) and three second round picks (2026, 2027). This comes as a surprise as Lewis is currently playing in a game against Florida, scoring Carolina’s only goal (2^nd period 16:01).

Chapter End Notes

Thank you so much for reading this chapter. I am looking forward to your comments.
I think it’s important to set the foundation of how Marcus and Anong fit into each other’s orbit. They became friends because of survival and through that survival Marcus started to fall for Anong. I ended it on that note, because the action was as abrupt and destructive to what they built since September. Thankfully, I don’t ever have to write about Wesley Bishop again (yuck).
I originally had the commissioner announcing his draft pick, but then I saw the NHL had all sorts of people announcing the picks and was so confused. So in chaos fashion, I went, hey Rhett and Link are from North Carolina and here we are lol.
Let me know what you think about the story so far? What do you feel about how Marcus caught feelings for Anong? Drag Brunch? Was Anong a little crazy for kissing him like that? The trade????
Supplementary material:
41st Annual Occaneechi Band of the Saponi Nation Pow Wow 2026
A Brief History of the Occaneechi Band of the Saponi Nation
Wikipedia on Powwows

Chapter 2: i love that dirty water

Chapter Notes

Thank you for all comments on the first chapter. I am glad you’re enjoying it so far.
This was a little emotional to write lol. Happy reading (:
Chapter Song: Dirty Water by the Standells

March 2024

Boston, Massachusetts

“So, it’s really for real, huh?” Anong’s voice said softly through Marcus’ phone speaker. Marcus let out a deep sigh as he looked at the other car that was parked right across from him. He was currently in the players parking lot at TD Garden, sitting in a rented matte black 2023 Volvo XC90 on a call with Anong before going to tour the facility, meet the team and the assistant GM. The last 24 hours was hectic. He was quickly ushered out of the arena (after quickly changing) and told to get his bags from his hotel room. Team services for Carolina, in collaboration with his agent, and team services from Boston, found a way to get him on a 9pm flight out of Miami International Airport. He landed at Logan Boston International Airport just after midnight, running into a group of die-hard Bears fan waiting for him at baggage claim (baggage claim at terminal C took so long, he had more than enough time to take pictures, sign autographs and answer many questions with non-answers). By the time he was picked up by the car the team sent him, and checked into the Ritz Carlton downtown, he plopped down in the center of the bed – exhausted.

His rest was futile as soon as 7am hit. He was met with calls from his agents trying to organize moving from his apartment in Raliegh (thankfully he didn’t have too much stuff), what the trade meant, calls from player services asking if he would like his own vehicle and coordinating the drop off to the hotel’s valet service, and his mother, who sat next to him in the hotel room, as they stuffed down breakfast she brought for him.

Marcus was exhausted and now he had to do the introductory phase of his MHL career all over again, with new people, new expectations and high levels of pressure he has never experienced before.

“Yeah, it’s for real.” Marcus finally said with a dry laugh. “Your boy is officially a Boston Bear. This is not how I expected it to happen, if I am being quite honest.”

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone did.” Anong huffed. “But you’re going to do great up there. I just know it. Carolina was stifling you anyways.” Anong’s honest response got a small laugh out of Marcus as he shook his head. Anong was a Marcus Lewis believer from day one. Always told him that he was going to be big in this league and remembered alongside the greats.

“Don’t act like they aren’t stifling you too Anong. Gosh I hate that locker room.” Anong hummed in response as if he was in deep thought. In where Anong would praise Marcus, he would somehow bring down himself. It was something Marcus really wished he would stop doing.

“Yeah. It wasn’t already fun before, but fuck, imma miss you so much Marcus. I don’t think you understand.” Anong complained a little. “I just want this season to be over; it’s not like we can get a playoff spot anyways.”

“I don’t even know if this team is on the playoff cusp either, to be honest. Everyone keeps saying yes, and how I am here to help that push, but I am so tired, I also want the season to be over.”

“Bright side? You’re already home?” Anong questioned. Marcus let out a loud groan as he rested his head on the steering wheel. “I guess that’s not too much of a bright side.”

“I don’t know Anong, I’ve been home for less than twenty-four hours and I am already tired of the narratives. I think I’m going to have to spend my summers in like Switzerland or some shit. I can’t be here the entire year; I will go crazy.” Marcus complained.

“I feel the exact same way about Winnipeg.” Anong sighed. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” Marcus nodded his head as he looked at the time on his phone – he had about five minutes to walk into the facility before being late (which was fifteen minutes early to the regular folk). As much as he didn’t want to, he needed to end his conversation with Anong.

“I appreciate it a lot. Thank you.” Marcus sighed. “I need to get out of this car and head inside. I’m going to check on you later Anong.”

“Ah yes. Good luck and have fun! And when you have time, we need to talk about something. But have a good time.” Marcus mumbled his goodbyes and hung up with an eerily feeling. The conversation did well the tamper down most of his anxiety regarding the trade, new team and move, but the last caveat made his heart beat in a rhythm was unfamiliar. Having no time to deliberate on that thought process, Marucs took a deep breath as he stepped out of the vehicle and headed towards the player’s entrance – using the key card player services dropped for him earlier.

The tour around the facility was a quick but an informative one. This would not be his first time in the Bear’s facility, and not the first-time in the home team’s locker room. He did many tours as a young hockey player (even playing junior games in the garden) and when he was a draft prospect. However, this time came with a lot more meaning, as the facility manager showed him his name plaque over his locker. It was a lot to process, seeing his last name and number branded in the black and yellow of the Boston Bears. His locker was situated between Dalton Myers and Valery Novik – two guys Marcus only knew about from the ice but hoped they were nice enough to not outcast him the way the Carolina locker room did.  He was excited, nervous, but so ready to get back on the ice and prove that not only he was a good hockey player, that he a franchise changer.

The facility manager then brought him up to the executive offices, quickly introducing him to the various employees throughout the organization before stopping at a door that said Svetlana Vetrova – Assistant General Manager. He heard a lot of Svetlana. From her days running around the city with Rozanov, to her being a successful cars salesperson, and her meticulousness and fierceness now as assistant GM. Despite what one might believe from the various tales, it was one thing for certain – Svetlana Vetrova was an intimidating woman, and she would set you on the straight and narrow.

As he stepped into the office behind the facility manager, there was a small inclining within Marcus to challenge that notion.  But one look at her pensive face as her nails typed quickly across her keyboard immediately warned him that this was a bad idea. Marcus was going to be on his best behavior (once it doesn’t contradict what he feels is right to him).

“Ah yes, Marcus, have a seat. Thank you for bringing him here, John. I got him.” Svetlana’s voice smoothly commanded as she looked up from here monitor. John – the facility manager – nodded his head and closed the door as he walked out of her office. Marcus took his time to sit in the chair right across from her. Her office was huge, adorned with large glass windows to looked at the MBTA’s train tracks and the Charles River. It was view that Marcus had mixed feelings about, but it wasn’t his – so he didn’t voice them. As he sat in the office chair, he held his hand out for Svetlana to shake.

“Good afternoon Ms. Vetrova, pleasure to meet you in person.” He said as they shook hands. Svetlana gave him a small smile as she pulled out a small booklet from one of her desk drawers.

“You can call me Svetlana. Ms. Vetrova is making me sound a little older than I am.” She laughed a little. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. We are so ecstatic to have you here. How was the travel?”

“Hectic, but it was fine. I forgot how long the wait for baggage claim at terminal C can take, my gosh that was annoying.” Marcus complained, earning a small chuckle from the woman in front of him. He took that as a win – likeability was extremely important.

“Well, thankfully you wouldn’t have to deal with that for the rest of the season – only for how you decide to do personal travels throughout the off season.”

“I’m truly debating from leaving from like New Hampshire or something else. That was painful.” He shook his head. This earned a louder laugh from the older woman – as she uncovered her blue ink pen and opened her notebook.

“Alright Marcus, before we get away with talking about airport logistics. How was the tour of the arena and how do you see yourself thriving in here?” Marcus hummed as he took time to process the questions. The novelty of the arena tour wore off by the time he was a draft prospect, but the idea of being on the ice was important. Marcus also saw himself being so involved on and off ice, that the Bears organization would beg for him to go home.

“Well, not to sound too pretentious, this would be like my fifth time touring the arena. However, it was pretty cool to see my name in the locker room. That definitely made everything feel real.” Marcus paused as let out a small sigh. He still couldn’t believe that this was his life. “I can see myself thriving here because of the work culture and ethic. I truly believe that I am someone that’s dedicated to my craft and the facilities provides the necessary tools for me to do such.” The hum that escaped Svetlana’s lips made Marcus a little nervous. He was unsure if that was one of agreement, or one that was willing to argue his talking points. He knew he was being honest here, but he didn’t know Svetlana, and Svetlana did not know him. So could 100 percent think that he was just regurgitating talking points from his agent, which would be a fair assumption from her.

“I am glad you brought up your work ethic.” She sighed as she leaned into her chair. “I would assume you know this information by now, but we tried our best to draft you. We pushed for trades to swap picks – no one was budging. We prayed and hoped you dropped to our pick and well, Carolina beat us.” Svetlana shook her head. “I am going to be frank when I say this – Carolina gave up on you too easily, and that felt like a red flag to my boss and others in the executive suite. Now, I know better to not trust the words out of Alexander Peterson, but there were many complaints attached to your name about you going against team’s morals and values. Do humor me.”

“I co-hosted a family friendly Christmas drag brunch, went to a pow wow with Okafor whose linage is First Nations and ummm… I’m black and too ambiguously queer.” Marcus shrugged. Svetlana gave him a bright smile as she shook her head.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you that everything is going to be rainbows and sunshine here, because at the end of the day – it’s still hockey. I understand all the issues of being black and queer.” Oh, that was news to Marcus – but then I guess it’s fair to assume that Rozanov’s best friend would also be a queer person.

“However, Marcus, play the game, work hard and show everyone what this sport means to you, and trust me, Boston will continue to be your home. You just need to make your mark.” Marcus nodded his head, agreeing fully with her sentiment. Marcus knew it wasn’t going to be easy playing in this city, but what he knew, was that he was going to make the city proud. The glory days of Bears hockey will return.

“On a different note – I know you’re a city boy and know how to get places. How would you get to your mother’s house from here on the T?” Svetlana asked, squinting her eyes.

“Oh, easy. Orange line to Downtown Crossing, red line to Savin Hill.” Marcus shrugged.

“Great. So don’t do that. Actually, do not take the T anymore. You’re a famous hockey player, and I hate to say this, but we have to for your own safety. Don’t visit your mother’s house without security.” Marcus let out a huff at Svetlana’s words. He wants to be made. Like how dare this woman tell him he can’t go to his mother’s house? And if he does, he must go with security. Unfortunately, though, it was wise. There was a shooting in front of her house that got serious traction in the news, and many news sites cited that this was in front of ‘Marcus Lewis’ childhood home.’ Which was one, incorrect because he didn’t live there, two, doxxing and his agent had to send some strongly worded letters to the publications, and three, his conehead cousin getting into another beef and bringing it to his mother’s doorsteps. So, no T. No visiting his mother’s place. Security.

“Noted. I’ll just give that information to the tourist.” Svetlana chuckled.

Moving back home was going to be just fine.

As the waiter sat down the final plate in front of them, Marcus’ older brother – Christopher – asked the question that Marcus knew was coming.

“So, little bro, when you’re going to use all of this hockey money and get us a nice house out in Newton or some shit.” Christopher asked as he unwrapped his utensils to start on the wagyu steak that’s in front of him. Marcus looked from his plate with a raised brow, as his mother – Charmaine – let out a sigh.

“Christopher, I told you already, let’s not have that conversation, especially not a lunch.” His mother chastised him as she started her plate. Marcus shook his head as he started to cut at the grain of his ribeye. Sure, he was the breadwinner of his family now, but there was no way there was an expectation to take care of all of them. On his mother side, it’s just him and Christopher – who was eight years older than him, and if according to every story he heard, should’ve had a steady job of his own. On his father side, he was one out of six, and there was no way he was making himself financially responsible for them. He had plans of getting his mother into a nicer apartment for now, and then eventually a house when he signed his rookie extension and get a couple more brand deals under his belt.

“Ma, I am just asking the important questions.” Christopher shrugged after he chewed his steak. “It’s just irresponsible to not have you in a safe space.”

“And somehow that’s a conversation including you? I thought you was a grown ass man, able to make decisions for yourself?” He squinted his eyes, using a call-back from the last argument that they had.

“Boys. Enough.” Charmaine hissed. “We are here, having a nice lunch as family. We should just eat and deal with all those matters later. Privately.” His mother was right; there was no reason to start an argument in the middle of Terra. The entire prudential center already knew he was in the building, and there were too many eyes on them. That didn’t make him any less annoyed with Christopher.

“Sorry, ma.” Marcus apologized before getting back to his plate. He heard Christopher mumbled an apology to their mother but didn’t bother to call him out for it. They ate in silence for a bit, indulging in their food, rather than the tense environment around them. It was only when his mother was halfway through her plate is when she asked about the day before.

“How was meeting the Assistant GM?”

“It was good, Svetlana is pretty cool and she essentially told me she just expects good hockey from me.” Marcus shrugged.

“Good, because I still have a lot of strong words to say to that Peterson guy.” Charmine huffed – inciting a small chuckle from him.

“Oh, the Vetrova chick? Heard she was like a major puck bunny or some shit. Interesting she works for the bears.” Christopher added.

“Christopher.”

“Bro, what the hell is wrong with you?” Marcus asked as he rolled his eyes. “First of all, don’t say that shit about any women. Secondly, the woman knows puck better than most of the league. Fuck it, it’s like I can’t carry you anywhere.” Marcus grumbled

“What does that supposed to mean?” Christopehr chimed – louder than he should.

“Christopher.” Their mother said slowly. “Stop it.”

“You’re talking shit about the woman that has a lot of influence over my job, in public. And knowing how you ‘always speak your mind’, that mean you would say such disrespectful stuff in front of her. I love you bro, I do, but you be on some weird shit.”

Christopher rolled his eyes at his monologue, opting to go back to eating than engage in this back and forth. Marcus gave his mother a pleading look. One hoping that she could speak some sense into her older son. He knew why their relationship was strained. It cannot be fun sitting second fiddle to your own sibling – especially since he had his own dreams of going into professional sports. But at a certain point, Christopher had to figure out what to do with that resentment before he made things worse for himself, and Marcus.

Being back home was going great.

Later that night, Marcus found himself sprawled across the couch of his friend Amanda’s apartment. Amanda insisted on throwing a small get together to welcome him back into the city or as she dubbed it ‘damn we just threw you a farewell party, and now you’re back?’ She was one of the few friends that stayed back – opting to attend Boston University. Included in the subtle madness was Johnathan, Alisha, Jamal and Kaiden. They all found themselves thrown across the Alston apartment – one that Amanda was positive her roommate was out for the week so they wouldn’t be disturbing anyone.

It was fun. They had snacks and drinks and retelling a lot of their childhood stories, and them asking about his time in North Carolina. But the night felt weird. Johnathan kept looking at him – not in a way in which he found particularly comfortable. It was as if he was seething, upset with Marcus. He hated that feeling.

“I’m going to out and smoke. Joining Marcus?” Amanada asked as she jumped up from her position off the floor.

“Nah, y’all kiddos have fun. Smoking is not good for hockey lungs, and I have medicals tomorrow. Would hate for that to show up in my piss.” Marcus said as he gave Amanda big smile. She nodded her head, completely understanding as she grabbed her already rolled blunt and lighter from the dining room table.

“I forgot they be testing y’all like lab rats.” Kaiden jumped in. “That has to be annoying as hell.”

“So fucking annoying bro.” Marucs complained as he threw his head back onto the couch.

“And I bet you, as one of the few Black players in the league, they stay knocking at your door.” Jamal added.

“Ding, ding!” Marcus laughed. “It’s so obvious and if you call it out, you’re apparently the woke mob.”

“I mean, you’re not the only one that gets discriminated at work. Like we all do.” Johnathan added as he stood next to Amanda. Marcus scrunched his face, replaying the man’s words. This is what he meant about things feeling off.

“Okay Victoria Justice.” Alisha said, making the group laugh. “Moral of the story, shit weird, and we gotta deal with it.”

“Before we get too philosophical, I am going out to smoke, whoever is joining me, please join me. If you’re not well. That’s cool too.” Amanda said as she walked towards the front door of her apartment. Kaiden, Jamal and Jonathan, all followed her, putting on their shoes before going out of the door. Before the door shut, Johnathan watched Marucs one last time, as if he was trying to kill him with his eyes.

“He has been fucking weird since you got drafted. Don’t mind him.” Alisha spoke up as the door closed. Marcus huffed as he shook his head. He was glad he wasn’t the only one that saw what was happening.

“So, why the fuck is he here then?” Marcus questioned. It didn’t make any sense to him. If he didn’t like Marcus, then why show up to the party for Marcus?

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Alisha shrugged as she scooted closer to the couch on the floor. Marcus looked up at her properly, noticing that dazed look in her eyes. This was a look that he was comfortable with, this was a look that he would entertain. He took in her dark brown eyes, the rosy, pink blush that smeared across her dark skin, the glistening gold that adorned her nose, and the plumpness of her lips. Alisha has always been fine.

“But, enough of that. I missed you.” She smiled, fluttering her eyelashes lightly. Marcus chuckled as he pushed a loose curl from her boho braids behind her ear.

“Yeah?”

“Mhhhhm.” She sighed, before laying her head on his arm. “It’s been like 10 months, I missed you. She missed you. And I know you missed us too.” Marcus smirked at the thought and shook his head. Alisha wasn’t wrong. They never went all when they used to mess with each other, but it would be untruthful if he said he didn’t find comfort in her body and her presence.

“And what are we all going to do about that?” He raised his brow. Alisha looked up again, lust clouding her eyes, as she looked from his lips down to his body.

“You know where I stay, Marcus.” Marcus gave her a big smile as his hand cupped her jaw and brought her lips towards his. He intently kissed – moving at an agonizing pace that he knew made her melt. It was intoxicating, and something he needed to release all the stress from the last few days. He was unsure on how long they were making out; he just knew that her hands ended up under his shirt, rubbing against his abs, and his under hers, softly grabbing her breast. When they heard the door creak open, the pair quickly pulled away from each other, with bright smiles across their faces.

“Ugh, you two are annoying.” Amanda added as she saw their faces.

“We didn’t even do anything?” Marcus shrugged, despite the shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“Yeah, and saliva dripping from your lip says otherwise.” Jamal rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you two don’t just fuck and get it over it. Y’all horny energy stresses me out.”

Marcus laughed loudly at his friends’ pleading. It felt good to be back here, in his safe space, with his people (despite the one outlier).

Maybe, being back home was truly going great.

A couple days since landing back in Boston, Marcus found himself in full gear, back on the ice. It was his first practice after being medically clear and he was ready to prove to the team that he was ready. When he walked into the locker room, he was greeted with a mixture of enthusiasm and speculation. He wasn’t too surprised on those who were concerned about him. They’ve must’ve heard through the pipelines that he was trouble and a problem to the locker rooms. He wasn’t going to push to clear that, he was just going to leave his actions speak for himself.

Marcus already had a conversation with the head coach, Greg Reilly – a newer coach after the retirement of LeClaire, outlining his expectations and what he wanted to see and work on with Marcus during practice. He wanted to see how he would fit on the second line with Collingwood and Zariņs, two younger players who had all the skill, but needed a strong center. Marcus nodded his head in the meeting, completely ready for the challenge. He spent the day before going over the team’s tapes, seeing their strengths and challenges as they were about 60 games into the season. Of course, Marucs wasn’t expecting the squad to totally change their game plan to accommodate him, so he was adamant on finding ways in which he could fit – especially if they wanted to clinch that wild card spot and make a substantial playoff push.

All those logistical thoughts swarm through his head as he picked up his jersey from his locker room. Before he could pull it over his head, he felt a strong hand clapping his shoulder.

“Lewis, can I speak with you a bit.” As he turned around, he realized the voice was the one of his new captain – Cliff Marlow. Marcus nodded his head and put the jersey down, following Marlow into the hallway away from the rest of the team.

“Firstly, I want to say welcome. Apologies for being unable to greet you first today, PT took longer than I expected.” Marlow said as he had his hand out to shake. Marcus shook his hand quickly, with a nod – making sure his posture was rigid and straight.

“I completely understand. It’s that time of the season. Thank you for the welcome.”

“Yes. I just. I don’t know how to say this.” Marlow sighed. “This is a safe space, but it’s not that safe of a space. We’ve kept up the precedent that Roz set with not saying slurs or any other brash derogatory language, but I will be honest, this is not a place to flaunt.” Marcus, wishing he was surprised at the fact, just nodded his head. Of course he wasn’t expecting anyone to call him fag, or the hard r in his face, but he also hoped he didn’t have to deal with the psychological warfare that Carolina locker room was insistent about.

“I get it. Didn’t expect it to be different. It’s hockey.” Marcus shrugged. Marlow squinted his eyes at the younger man before shaking his head slightly.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting from you, rook.”

“What were you expecting? Look I know I have this now reputation for being a troublemaker, but if no one provokes me, I am just a chill dude.” Marucs huffed out with a dry laugh. He couldn’t believe he had to explain himself again.

“Okay. It’s just…”

“It’s just?”

“I was expecting you to be more of an activist type? Especially since you stated that Hollander and Roz were like your favorite players.” Marlow shrugged. Marcus let out a small huff of air as he closed his eyes. Wasn’t this man supposed to be one of Rozanov’s closest friends? Did he not like queer people and only fucked with Rozanov because he was Rozanov. This conversation was getting too confusing and Marcus did not want to have this sitting on his mind during practice.

“I mean, Hollander and Rozanov is everyone my age idols.” Marucs shrugged again. “Also, I don’t have to be an activist for wanting to be treated right. That’s all I am asking from my captain – is that I don’t feel unsafe in the locker room.”

“I gotchu rook, you will be alright. Trust me.” Marlow said with a small smile as he patted Marcus’ shoulder. “Let’s finished get dressed and get on the ice, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

What the hell was that conversation even. Once again, being back home has proven to be going oh, so well.

March was slowly bleeding into April and Marcus found himself in Svetlana’s office again. Over the last few weeks, he found himself in the large office as a place of refuge and comfort. The first two times, Svetlana watched him with a pensive look, confused as to why a player would willing make the trek to the executive suite with no major purpose. By the third time, where Marcus was sprawled out across her couch, she gave up on trying to figure out why and just let him be. During that time, Svetlana slowly became an important figure in his life. He would assume they had some sort of friendship, one where he asked her consistently for advice from what he should improve in his game (and wow, did she had a lot of hockey opinions, especially with them losing two out their last five games), to how life advice regarding his family, and even some suggestions on a bracelet he was interested in buying Alisha. They also gotten close enough that Marcus started to speak straight from his mind. This meant that Svetlana was braced with stream of unfiltered thoughts, ranging from all kinds of unhinged.

Now he was sitting in front of her, explaining to her about his life as a Black Bostonian. He would never lie and say it was easy. He knew his city, and he knew how his city acted. It didn’t help that his city also got more and more expensive by the day. He still wouldn’t trade it for the world. Sometimes he wished he could get away a little bit longer than a road trip. Being home for a couple weeks meant that people were now getting more comfortable walking up to him – which was fine in theory – but not fine when an older man tried to claim he was your great uncle from your daddy side (say whatever what you want about Mr. Darnell Lewis but he made sure all his children knew their family). In the middle of his rant, there was a small knock on the door that he knew came from the office secretary. When he looked up, his eyes almost bulged open as he saw who was right behind of them.

“Ms. Vetrova, Ms. Landry is here.” The office secretary informed. Marcus whipped his head quickly between Svetlana and Rose Landry, as the woman walked into the office with a large bouquet of pink lilies and white roses and big smile on her face.

“Hey baby.” Rose said as she went behind her desk, kissing the Svetlana softly on her lips. Marcus gasped at the display of affection, shocked at not only was Rose Landry here, but Rose Landry was kissing Svetlana. That only meant one thing, that the pair was dating. As messy as Marcus can be (or was), he never really kept up with the celebrity tabloid, and didn’t get to a deep dive on Svetlana’s Instagram to know, what he is going to assume is public knowledge.

“Svetlana! You never told me that you were dating thee Rose Landry!” Marcus exclaimed when the words finally caught up to his brain.

“Well, you never asked, plus I am very interested in your stories.” Svetlana shrugged as she wrapped her left arm around Rose’s waist. “But yes, this is my girlfriend of over a year, and you better be nice, Marcus.”

“Of course, of course.” Marucs cleared his throat as he smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles on his t-shirt. He couldn’t mess this up; this was Rose fucking Landry for Christ’s sake.  “And where are my manners, Marcus Lewis, forward for the Bears.” Rose hummed as she looked between Marcus and Svetlana with an amused look. It made Marcus nervous. Did he have something on his lip, he was certain he picked out all the lint that was clinging to his hair this morning. Damn, he knew he should’ve gotten a haircut, now he is sitting in front of Rose Landry, looking all wild.  

“I’ve heard a lot about you Marcus. Svetlana always spoke about how you’re the next big thing, and she is never wrong about hockey.” Rose shrugged. As Svetlana let out a small groan, Marucs watched them both with wide eyes. Of course, Svetlana would talk puck with Rose Landry. That’s inevitable. He remembered hearing that her brother played int the minors, and she also dated thee Shane Hollander once upon a time. She knew puck, Svetlana knew puck, and damn, that really meant he was about to be the next big thing. He needed to make sure he put down the right groundwork over the summer. He can’t disappoint Rose Landry. Because disappointing Rose Landry, would also mean disappointing Shane Hollander. Nope, that would be sacrilegious. Then it dawned on him, if Rose used to date Hollander, and Svetlana had something with Rozanov, did they just wife swap? Or well partner swap in this case? And Svetlana knew how much Marcus loved Hollanov as individuals and as a couple. Before Marcus could stop himself, the question sprung out to his lips immediately.

“So, y’all be fucking like Hollanov, or is this different?” Marcus quickly covered his mouth, apologizing to Svetlana with wide eyes. Rose was clearly amused by his outburst as her laughter filled the room.

“My bad my bad. That was out of pocket. Don’t answer that.” He rambled quickly.

“No. no.” Rose laughed as Svetlana watched him an amused look. “I will answer because this is fun. I will say we fuck better than those foolish hockey boys. We also didn’t take almost a decade to confess our love to one another.” Marcus snorted at the shade, nodding his head in agreement.

“Fair enough.” Marcus mumbled as Svetlana laughed. Svetlana motioned for him to continue his story, now entertaining Rose Landry about the innerworkings of his life and his city. By the time he left Svetlana’s office, he decided that he needed a walk, and some fresh air. Seeing the two women being domestic and in love with each other pulled some strings on his heart, one that he hoped could finally be repaired. He knew the feeling was there, but he was trying to ignore it. He missed Anong, a lot.  Now he found himself on the banks of the Charles River, letting the cool spring air across his face as the sun slowly set. the birds on the river were lounging around, slowly moving with current, and the traffic blared by, series of loud engines and horns that were calming sounds to anyone from the state. It was this moment he decided to pick up his phone and dial a number he has been itching to call for days.

The phone rang out once.

Then twice.

And when he was about to call a third time, he got a string of texts.

Anong O.

Hey, about to hit the ice for practice soon.

Hope your day went well.

Also, I think we need to work on putting some distance between us. No hard feelings, just focusing on playoffs and stuff.

I think it’s best and we reconvene in the summer.

Also, we should not talk about that day in Arizona.

Keep doing the good work.

Marcus

Cool.

Good luck. I’ll hit you up in the summer.

Read: 5:15pm

The Charles River slowly turned from a place a refuge, to a place of heartbreak. But as the water continued to move in front of him, Marcus took a deep breath. Welcome home. It’s good to be back in fucking Boston, Massachusetts.

Chapter End Notes

Before y’all jump my boy Anong, I promise you, you’re going to understand why he said such. Be nice to him :( A reminder that the tags do state slow burn, and angst. Those boys will go through some stuff before some joy arrives. My bad (not really).

Writing this chapter also made me really miss Boston a lot (lived there a couple years for grad school). I find it strange because that city is expensive and stressed me out, but I just want to take the green line to Boylston and go to the AMC and then walk around the Boston Common, is that too hard to ask?

But poor Marcus, that’s a lot to deal with within a month. I really did not want his trade to Boston to be one that’s a reflection of the prodigal son, where everyone is arms open and welcoming. No, he is a professional athlete, he is going to have haters and dissenters. He is also 18 going on 19, people will be on his case regardless because he is so young. And like everyone, he will have mixed feelings about his home city/town. It’s great to be home, near family, and close friends, but you’re also dealing with a lot more expectations and pressure to achieve, especially if someone from his neighborhood would be adamant on saying “and you see Charmaine second child?” (is this slight projection of my life? Maybe). I also wanted him to have a support system with his friends from the city (Amanda, Jamal and Kaiden will play some interesting roles throughout this narrative) but also an older friend figure in Svetlana. For those who read Between I and She, you would notice the last section pulls from the epilogue of that story. Svetlana is not a maternal figure for Marcus; Svetlana does not want to be maternal to anyone. But she sees glimpses of Ilya in Marcus and wants to protect him as much as she can from the evils of the world (evil tends to prevail). Their friendship is also important as Marcus goes through this journey.

It was also very important to me for Cliff to not be the unsung hero in the Boston locker room. I know in fandom we tend to head cannon Cliff as this bumbling best bro of Ilya who is all down for the cause (and I love those characterizations, I read so much of them), but I am pulling from TLG where Ilya states he doesn’t think Boston would be so welcoming to Harris, and the fact that Cliff was not at the wedding. I don’t believe that Cliff is inherently homophobic, nor that he doesn’t have a relationship with Ilya, but I do believe that Boston wouldn’t be queer utopia (nor do I think any locker room would be, we will see this in future chapters). However, there is precedent set of language and behavior that makes the Boston locker room ten times better than Carolina. The bar is still beneath hell, but Marcus not being on edge all the time is good for his mental and for his hockey.

Alright, I’ve said a lot. I look forward to your comments and your thoughts. Next chapter we will finally see Anong’s POV and what suffering he will be going through.

Thank you for reading and until the next chapter.

Chapter 3: there's so much more to me

Chapter Notes

So now, let’s check in with Anong.
At the end of the chapter, there are world building information, make sure to check them out.
CW// strong racial and homophobic language.
Chapter Song: I’m Coming out by Diana Ross

September 2024

Ottawa, Ontario

Despite the jersey being red and black, the fabric felt weird and the design was still off. This was not the jersey he got accustomed to wearing over the last two years. He was now back on Canadian soil, taking off his jersey at the end of his last day of training camp. The move – while certainly not a surprise – was still a lot to process. Sweat, tears and loyalty truly don’t mean anything in this league unless it’s you who is making the decision. Again, he wasn’t surprised. The front office truly never liked him, he was an acquisition from the previous GM, one that they got rid for what ownership considers the savior of their franchise. He is coach barely tolerated him, and his teammates – well his teammates at the time considered him to be weird, a mystery and a series of racist understandings that still makes him shudder till this day. It didn’t help that the one person he was actually friends with was unceremoniously traded in the middle of the game. So, yes, Carolina wasn’t a good place for Anong, he knew that since he first walked into the locker room. However, the feeling of being traded was still gut wrenching, especially seeing his was traded for third round draft picks so far out in the future, he was unsure if those prospects even picked up a hockey stick as yet.

It didn’t help that he had one of the weirdest summers of his life. Once their season ended in a second-round exit, Anong found himself on a flight (well flights – there was a quick layover in Toronto) straight to Winnipeg, waiting to lay in the comfort of his mother’s arms. However, that comfort was quickly thwarted by a series of insane events. One, his parents sat him down two days after their arrival, stating that they need a bigger house (despite sitting in the brand-new house that he bought them after he got his first set of brand deals – apparently being the male face for Shea Moisture tends to pull in a good bit of revenue.), and that he was about to have a new sibling. Anong looked down at his mother stomach and let out a small sigh. It was already four of them, Anong being the eldest, why would his parents, in their early forties, decided to have another child, in which he would be inherently responsible for. After that discussion, he quickly found himself on his best friend’s, Kiandra, couch. Kiandra Joseph was 5’9, darkskin, with currently dyed red coils and the most chaotic but sweetest person Anong has ever met. They first crossed paths on their first day of high school, sitting next to each other in home room. At that time, Anong’s hair was cut short, the curls sitting on top of his head, threatening to flop down if grown any longer. She asked him what his curl routine was, he gave her an answer that would rival any natural hair youtuber, she said he loved her name, yelled at someone who tried to interrupt their conversation, and they were stuck to each other ever since.

There is where he realized that he promised he would talk to Marcus about he truly meant in the summer. His texts went unanswered and his phone calls went straight to voicemail. Then two weeks later, his agent called with the news. He was being traded to the Ottawa Centaurs. Since that phone call, Anong wasn’t sure if he was truly functioning, he and Kiandra went back down North Carolina to pack up the key things he wanted, sell his furniture he wasn’t really attached too, and ship his car back to Canada. It was a soulless process, as his phone kept pinging with texts of encouragement and disappointment. Throughout all those texts, he was hoping that Marcus would message him back. Nothing crazy, maybe a simple message that said ‘hey, I’m glad you got out of that hell hole.’

He received nothing.

Being in the Centaurs locker room was a strange, out of body experience. Many people who thought they were Anong’s friends or thought they had him in their best interests decided to ‘warn’ him about the locker room. That is would be covered in rainbow flags and glitter, that his new captain, Ilya Rozanov, would be kissing his husband, Shane Hollander, in front of everyone, every day and you have to sit down and watch (Anong read that message and sucked his teeth so loudly that Kiandra watched him with a worried face), that everything about the locker room was gay, seeing that they had four out players. Anong knew that people were just fear mongering, was he a little concern that he might see some pda he did not want to see? Sure, just like how he didn’t want to see how his former teammates chewed their food. It wasn’t about who was doing the action, it was about the action itself.

However, his introduction to the team over the summer, and the couple weeks of camp proved one thing, that this was simply just a locker room. Of course, there was a set precedent set. He heard no slurs, women weren’t spoken about too badly, and there seemed like an agreed level of respect throughout the players. Rozanov and Hollander weren’t up under each other in a married way, more up under each other in a ‘they are the best players of the league, and they will continue outdo each other’ way. Sure, there was a peck here or there. They would walk into the arena holding hands. But Shane Hollander, was Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov, was Ilya Rozanov.  He was also surprised to learn that, despite that agreed level of respect, not all players loved his captain and his newly minted A (alongside Boodram). After the first training camp days, he sat down in his locker room, where his fellow left winger, Ryan Porter came up to him, stating how him, Kākliņš, and Kuzmin, didn’t really ‘fuck with the gay shit’ and he doesn’t have too as well, but they keep things normal because they are winning games.  That through Anong for a loop. The locker room wasn’t a walking demonstration of the kumbaya, they all don’t hang out with each other after games, splitting into different factions, but somehow, they come in everyday and do their job.

It was work. A simple task of coming in, doing your job, and going home. Talk to who you think is cool, and don’t worry about the others, unless it’s work related.

Anong’s mind hated how simple it was.

Not because of the simplicity of it, but because he was able to function in that environment positively simply as an other. He has never had a locker room feel simple. He always had to prove himself, not just as a hockey player, but that he was worthy to be treated with respect. That his identity was simply a part of him, and not a marker that made him weird, or different. That he didn’t need to explain every single time why certain words were offensive or why he attended certain events. It was simple. So simple, seeing the hockey players of color, and those who were queer just being able to exist, sent him on a spiral.

Anong never truly loved himself. Sure, there were times that he liked himself, but there was always a lingering part in the back of his brain that made him hate himself. For a long time as a youth, it was because of how he looked. His skin darker than most of his Annishabe cousins, his hair thicker and curlier and his name being so ethnic that they white children at his school would rather make up some offensive sounding name to refer him too. By the time he was sixteen and proven to be confident in the sport that he loved, latched onto a best friend that he would never let go, those insecurities also slowly floated away. But while those went on a new journey, new ones popped in.

Anong wouldn’t even consider himself a gay man. How can he be gay if he refused to even entertain the thought of being with a man. And even if he did acknowledge it, why would he even act upon the urges. Being Black and First Nations was already hard enough, adding gay to the category was truly a mixture for disaster. He tried his best to not be gay. He was fourteen when Scott Hunter kissed Kip Grady on the ice, the reactions around him was nothing but negative.  He went out at seventeen and lost his virginity to a girl who kept flirting with him all through high school. She kept describing the night as the best night ever, happy that she had the opportunity to sleep with her crush. She also was a blabbermouth, as the next day the entire school knew about him, and his skills, with more women wanting to have the same experience. Unfortunately for him (or mostly for them), Anong hated it the entire time. It felt weird, off, as if it wasn’t something he wasn’t supposed to be doing (besides, having sex as a teen of course). He tried again, one drunken and hilarious night with Kiandra, she told him to never have sex with a woman again. Then in 2021, Hollander and Rozanov was outed, and it shifted his perspective – you can be great and queer, and poc, and all those things, but surely you will still get a lot of flak.

So here he was, just fresh off of his 21^st birthday, with two grindr hook-ups under his belt during west coast trips, a kiss (well couple kisses, and some fondling) from a man who wouldn’t answer his messages, and an internal crisis that makes him feel so uncomfortable in the safest space he has ever been.  

And oh, his parents keep asking him about the new house, despite him telling them to convert his room into a nursery and that he wasn’t making any more big purchases until he signed his rookie extension (which would hopefully be at the end of this season).

Anong knew the first step to not feeling ashamed was speaking to his captain and his A. That’s how he found himself in the living room of the Hollander-Rozanov household, sipping on a can of coke and a bag of baked lays in his hands. He told them he wanted to talk, talk about adjusting in the team, and somehow, they still made him felt so much for comfortable than he has ever been. It was stressing him out.

“So, Star, how has settling been?” Rozanov asked as he sat next to his husband on the loveseat. Anong took a sip of his soda, letting the syrupy carbonated beverage coat his mouth, and hopefully his nerves.

“It’s been okay.” Anong shrugged, not looking at the two men who was staring at him intently.

“Star, I would be honest. Ilya is insanely perceptive and it’s okay if things aren’t okay.” Hollander told him with a small sigh. Anong sighed as he found himself sinking into the very comfortable couch. He made a reminder that after this very awkward conversation that he was about have, to ask them on where they got the furniture from.

“Okay, it hasn’t been great. Not like, you guys haven’t great, no you guys are truly the best, it’s actually been the best locker room I’ve ever been in, and it’s so good and nice, and fun and welcoming and –” Anong paused as he heard himself rambling. He saw the two husbands giving each other amused looks before turning back to him.

“Star, please breathe.” Rozanov chuckled. “Also, it’s okay if we aren’t perfect. We are human you know.”

“True, true.” Anong mumbled to himself. He took another deep breath before looking at the men in their eyes. “The locker room is too perfect for me, I feel too safe. I feel… it has brought up a lot of complicated feelings about myself. I think it’s weird like that’s the case.” Anong noticed that Hollander bit his lower lip, looking at Rozanov if they were communicating telepathy. Rozanov nodded his head, which prompted Hollander to look back at him.

“How bad was the Reapers’ locker room?” Hollander asked. Anong sucked in a deep breath as he sat up straight.

“Terrible. Borderline abusive.” Anong mumbled, trying to not let the tremble in his voice showed. Hollander closed his eyes and leaned to the loveseat, as if he was processing the information that Anong just told him.

“When Marcus got traded –”

“Marcus? Lewis?” Rozanov questioned.

“Yes, when he got traded, Bishop said that he was glad that they got rid of half of their nigger problem. And that he was the first one that needed to go because he was also their faggot problem.” Anong said coldly. The house fell silent. An eerily silent that held the ugly truth of their league and their sport. He heard Rozanov muttered what he assumed was Russian, and Hollander taking in deep breaths. Anong wasn’t sure what he was trying to prove by telling that story. The only person that knew about it was Kiandra, and he had to convince her not to flight to North Carolina to kill his then captain. As much as he would love something to happened to him, the optics of Black Canadian woman crossed the border to kill Canada’s rough and tough Wesley Bishop was not one he wanted her to have, no matter how much she pleaded. But the words stung, it was inherently so violent that it had him in a state of shock for several days. Despite all the racism he dealt with growing him, Canadian racism to him always trotted the line of the stereotypical politeness, and when they refused to be polite it was more targeted against his indigenousness and not his Blackness. So, hearing such crass words, especially from someone who was supposed to parrot the nice Canadian racism, altered him, completely.  

The silence was finally broken, once Hollander cleared his throat.

“I think, with us experiencing life a little differently, our experience was the same.” Hollander started. Anong looked at him deeply, hoping that he wasn’t going to pull a weird ‘poc’ solidarity that he sometimes dealt with, one that tends to be filled with the same anti-Blackness that he was the problem.

“Obviously, your experience as a Black man, versus mine as an Asian man differs in many ways. However, in Montreal, I forced myself to ignore everything and kept pushing. Off handed comments were just used as fuel to prove that I am the best. It was a little more difficult to ignore when I came out to the time, a lot of those comments, both racist and homophobic, started to be aimed directly at me, but I chalked it up to them adjusted.” Hollander paused, letting out a dry and hallow laugh. “I crashed when I joined the Centaurs. My body so used to the trauma of the sport, that kindness literally broke me. It took me so long to get comfortable. I was always waiting for the next shoe to drop. Even those who really don’t like us, never made me uncomfortable and I was so confused. I think that is what is happening to you, your body doesn’t know how to process this. It also happened so quickly.”

Anong watched as Rozanov wiped the few tears from Hollander’s eyes, rubbing his back intently. He hated that he related to what Hollander went through. He hated that his body couldn’t adjust to the new environment, even when the environment was better. He just wanted to play hockey, not going through psychological warfare.

“I guess this is a good time to admit that I think I’m gay? I don’t know.” Anong huffed, earning a small chuckle from Rozanov. L

“I figured.” The Russian shrugged. Anong squinted his eyes, looking at his captain. What did he mean that he figured? Figured what? Anong wasn’t going around Ottawa sucking dicks.

“I told you, he is perceptive. Also, he didn’t realize Scott was gay and has made it his lifelong mission to determine if other hockey players are queer or not.” Hollander rolled his eyes, with a fond look on his face. Anong huffed again, taking a swig of his now warm soda. Great, his captain also had an insanely good gaydar.

“It’s a blessing and a curse.” Rozanov shrugged. “But Star, I can tell you have a lot of things to work out, and a lot of things to process. You don’t have to do it alone. You can always talk to me, talk to Shane, talk to Bood, shit talk to Haasy about being young hot and gay. I’m getting too old to know what they got going on these days. But you’re not alone in your journey.”

“Correct.” Hollander popped in. “Also, a therapist. Trust me, it helps.”

“My father would kill me if he found out I started therapy.” Anong sighed. Rozanov raised his eyebrow and then quickly shook his head, as if he understood why.

“Yeah, your problems should just be your problems? Huh?” Rozanov sighed. “Look Star, you’re also an adult and to live in this fuck up world, you need to be better. For yourself.” Anong took another sip of his drink, nodding his head. He needed to be better for himself, for his hockey, and maybe, eventually, for Marcus.

“So, I’m gay.” Anong said as soon as his facetime to Kiandra connected. The woman, who was doing something in here kitchen, paused as she looked into the camera with a deadpan look.

“No duh, bitch.” She cursed before continuing her task. Anong groaned as he sank into his bed, slightly annoyed that his best friend wasn’t taking his personal revelation with more grace. To be fair, she has also been telling him this since they were teenagers.

“Ki, come on man. This is a big thing for me to admit.” He huffed at her. Kiandra came back into the frame and rolled her eyes, despite the small smile on her face.

“I know, Anong it is. I just wished you weren’t putting yourself through this torture chamber for years. I’ve known this for you since we were in high school, and I’m certain you not fucking me right was a clear indication. You had no idea how to deal with this ever-blessed pum.” Kiandra ranted as she picked up knife to start cutting up some vegetables. Anong let out a loud laugh, shaking his head at the chaos of his best friend.

“Ever-blessed? Is this is how I find out that you’re still talking to Shawn? I told you to leave his Jamaican ass alone.” Anong laughed. Kiandra sucked her teeth, pointing the knife towards her camera.

“It’s good dick, reliable. You wouldn’t know about that because you fucked up your chance.” She squinted. It was now Anong’s time to roll his eyes, as he flipped her off.

“Good dick, reliable and three children at twenty-four. I don’t know Kiandra.” Kiandra waved him off as she continued her chopping. This was an argument they’ve been going in circles about for the last couple of months.

“Anyways. It’s just until I find the love of my life. Also, I bring my own condoms, getting tested all the time and my IUD is the strongest thing known to man. We’re good.” She shrugged. “So, what enlightened this revelation, besides the time you kissed Marcus, and then kissed Marcus, and then kissed Marcus, and then grabbed Marcus’ butt while kissing him, then grabbing his dick while kissing him, and the dry humping until you both cummed in each other’s pants?”

“Oh my gosh, Ki you’re so fucking annoying.” Anong groaned as he pressed his head into his pillow. “How do you remember all of this?”

“I don’t know, my best friend in the entire world finally liked a boy, was doing things with said boy, I needed to remember. I got it all written down in a notebook, dated and all.” She smiled brightly at him. Anong rolled his eyes, as he huffed once more. I guess this is what happens when your best friend is a data analyst. Always documenting some shit.

“Whatever, bro.”

“But do enlighten me, my sweet, sweet Star.”  She said as her smile morphed into something softer.

“Spoke with cap and Hollander today, and the conversation was hard but impactful. Apparently, me feeling weird is a trauma response and Hollander when through the same shit after he left Montreal.” Anong shrugged. Kiandra let out a low whistle shaking her head as she finished her vegetables.

“Those men have to pay for what they did to Shane Hollander, and I don’t care if they forgave him, never let me meet Hayden Pike or it’s on sight.” Kiandra huffed as Anong laughed. If Hayden Pike had no haters, that meant that Kiandra was dead. She never liked him pre fan mail incident, stating that something about him wasn’t right, and after the fan mail incident, it was nothing but furry for the man.

“I agree.” Anong finally sighed. “They also suggested I start therapy, connect with him, Hollander, Boodram and maybe Haas as my support system. And cap knew I was queer.”

“That Russian is strangely perceptive.” She shook her head.

“Everyone keeps telling me that.”

“Because it’s true. Plus, I agree with the therapy suggestion. We all need it, but between the move, hockey, Marcus, and whatever the hell your parents got going on, you need a professional to process that with.” Kiandra smiled. Anong nodded his head, agreeing with her sentiments. It was all becoming too much, and he refused to be burnt out by 21.

“Also, you becoming close friends with Zane is the first step of my ten-step plan of becoming his and Cassie’s third.” She grinned brightly again.

“You’re annoying.” Anong laughed. “They don’t want a third, and don’t want you.”

“You’re telling me, I can’t be the controversial, hot, younger girlfriend of them? I am also so good with children. Anong, please don’t deprive me of my dreams.” She pleaded as she pulled a pan out of the cupboard.

“I ain’t depriving you of shit, you lunatic.” Anong continued to laugh. “Also, I thought you wanted to Rozanov’s and Hollander’s third?”

“Yeah, but Hollander is strictly dickly, and I want him more than Rozanov. You know this vagina is coloreds only.” A loud laughter escaped Anong, echoing through his bedroom. He felt his body shake, and tears coming out his eyes, in disbelief at what his best friend just said.

“You’re a mess, bro. what?” Anong hollered again. Kiandra was giggling on the other side of the phone, as she started to sauté her vegetables.

“Either way, the real bet is Boiziau and Vaughny. Now they are hot and also like vagina. Get me in Anong!”

“Man, you get on my nerves.” Anong laughed.

____________________________________________________________________________________

2024- 2025 MHL HOCKEY SEASON COMMENCES ON OCTOBER 9^th 2025

Click here for more information on the Boston Bears.

Click here for more information on the Ottawa Centaurs.

Chapter End Notes

Remember what the tags said….. Angst.
Anong is going through it, oh my.
I want to preface and say that Anong doesn’t hate his parents. He loves them dearly and believes they are good people; they are just stuck in certain ways. He is annoyed at them having a child when he is 21 – I think most children would be annoyed if their parents bring home a newborn when they are adults. Also, houses aren’t cheap. I didn’t initially want his locker room experience to be molded after what Shane went through, but halfway through I was like hmm, this sounds like a Shane Hollander type of crisis lol. So that’s now a narrative. Just like the Cliff situation, I didn’t want the Centaurs locker room to be a gay utopia. Obviously, dissenters aren’t going to be loudest when Ilya Rozanov is their captain (he is still a scary Russian), but they aren’t going to hang out with the gang outside of team mandated events. It’s cordial but they ain’t fucking with it. I think it’s important for Anong to know that as well. Not so he could find solidarity in that if he wanted, but that his new situation, while safe, isn’t perfect.

Kiandra! Oh, sweet Kiandra. I needed these hockey players to have regular friends, and Kiandra is the perfect chaos Anong’s needs in his life. She loves him so much, and they will always have each other’s backs. She will also always say something very out of pocket because why not? But yaay, we got Anong finally admitting he is gay. We also got some insight on what happened in those months between him and Marcus. And yeah, if my homoerotic friendship in which he dry humped told me we needed distance, I wouldn’t answer as well, Anong. It’s okay, you’ll get your man back (eventually).

The websites and the graphics weren’t necessary. I spent all day on those shitty canva websites but I’m proud of them lmao. But they hold important world building information. So, if you need to go and remember a player or where they at in the timeline, that’s a good reference point.

How do you feel about Anong, and his perspective of things? How do you expect for him to settle into Ottawa as the season goes on? What you think is going to happen next when the season finally starts?

I look forward to your comments and your kudos.

In the meantime, you can check out my version of Hollanov Wedding I have met an angel, and he is perfect. in which I wrote for Hollanov Day.

Love you guys and stay blessed.

Chapter 4: that will love you, like I loved you

Chapter Notes

Me to myself: omg, since I am on vacation, I am going to do so much writing and get a couple chapters of this chapter done.
Reality: vacation is almost over and I only now finished chapter 3.
To be honest and fair to myself, I ended up catching up on some much-needed sleep, and then also played chauffeur over the weekend (I had a friend that flew through our airport like three times in three days. I can’t explain further without doxxing myself, but just know, the man is fucking insane lmaao) and then spent the day deep cleaning as I am having a friend staying a week by me. So, all that rest I caught up on? Gone lol. Either way, enough of me. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and please remember, the Angst tag. Yeah? Cools.

Chapter Song: Someone Else by Little Boy ft Quan & Trilla- G

December 2024

Boston, Massachusetts

While this wasn’t Anong’s first time in the Bears visitor’s locker room, this time he knew it was different. This was his first time playing in Marcus’ barn. His first time witnessing a crowd show their love and appreciation for their hometown player and not having to boo them right after because he was playing on an opposing team. He was about to witness everything that Marcus ever dreamt about. The dreams and aspirations he told Anong when they sat next to each other on the couch in his Raliegh apartment. Marcus was the starting center, breaking records (not the ones set by Hollander and Rozanov though, no one has dare to even come close), and becoming the face of the franchise, and the city of Boston. Anong was happy for him; he only wanted the best for Marcus. But it was still painful, because Anong always imagine himself being a part of Marcus’ dreams. Now, he was merely a bullet point. A character that was mentioned in passing in the vast story building that was becoming an epic on Marcus’ life.

Despite his want to wallow in pity and despair, things between the two of them weren’t inherently bad. Sure, they haven’t had an in-depth conversation since Marcus was unceremoniously shipped out of North Carolina, but they were cordial. Cool. Just of it they were two bros that just used to play with each other. To the outside, this was great. There was no love lost between them, and during their first meeting in the Ottawa, the hug they shared at the center line was trending before the first puck dropped. To Anong, it felt like agony. He sat on the phone with Kiandra that night, complaining about how much he missed Marcus, and held on a little longer, hoping that his scent would linger. Kiandra called him pathetic and told him to either talk to Marcus or move on.

He has done neither.

Anong told himself once they landed at Boston Logan, that he was going to message Marcus and ask if they can hang out after the game. A simple catch up that wasn’t going to be a big deal. However, he psyched himself out, saying that he needed to focus on the game, especially as the Centaurs were currently on a three-game winning streak. He also needed to focus because Coach Weibe told him in passing that he might be added to the second line, which included Hollander and Haas.

Now, he was lacing his skates, trying to take a deep breath as the noise the locker room surrounded him. It was going to be good, he wasn’t going to shit himself, and he wasn’t going to stare at Marcus Lewis – no matter how good he looked in his uniform.

They won.

Anong would love to brag and said that it was an easy match. That the Cens had their way with a fellow division rival. But that would be far from the truth. The 2-1 win was solidified by a last-minute goal from Hollander, one that Anong still couldn’t believe he assisted on. it was brutal, it was exhilarating, and a true showmanship of the sport. Anong was not thinking about that. As he plopped down at his locker and his teammates all muttered about how to spend their night in the city, he was thinking about the bright smile on Marcus’ face when he noticed that Anong was now Hollander’s left wing. Or the ridiculously, maybe almost illegal, hard check into the glass during the third period. Those two images kept circling in his head, hoping that it would bring some comfort to the confusion he has been feeling. Anong was about to suck it up and text Marcus, when Rozanov’s loud voice commanded through the room.

“Team, you did well. I love a good win, and I love it better that he sent those Bears scrambling to their cage.” Rozanov started. “In honor of such achievement, we are outside. We are going to my spot, a place where they still sell the Rozanov, and we might have to play nice with some bears.” Boos and laughter filled the locker room as Rozanov waved them off.

“Yes, yes, sometimes you have to play nice. So go wash your smelly asses so we can back to the hotel. Please put on something nice. Don’t embarrass me.” Rozanov pleaded. He saw Hollander snort, as if that was a direct call out to the man who would rather live in athleisure wear if he could.

“Cap, who all coming?” JC asked, as if someone he didn’t like showed up, he was going to skip out. (Anong knew that was not the case, in the few months he was known JC, that man was never missing out on a party. Bood once said, ‘once a pan knock, JC would be there.’)

“Uhhhh, so far Marly, of course. Connors, Johansson, Mathers and Lewis.” Anong perked up at Lewis. He put his phone down quickly and started to fully undress. If Marcus was truly going to be there tonight (despite being under the age limit to drink in the U.S.), he was going to make sure he looked his best and was going to be adamant that they spoke.

Anong found himself at a booth with Hollander, Boodram and JC, sipping on a beer after realizing the insanity of what the Rozanov was (three shots of vodka, bitters, soda water and some ginger syrup – which apparently was the updated version after he married Hollander, it was originally with some type of mint syrup.) and refused to drink something that consisted that much vodka. If he was going to drink hard liquor, he was drinking tequila. Other guys that came out agreed, with Rozanov getting the drink for himself, making Hollander taste it, and then got yelled at for making him taste it. Now, the four of them were in there corner, chatting up about the rest of their schedule as Rozanov, Marlow and Connors were at the pool table talking about the good ‘old’ days. It was amusing to see how a group of guys in their early to mid-thirties talk about their twenties, especially ones who used to party hard.

Anong shook his head as he JC and Boodram started arguing about the best way to drink Puncheon, one he was confused that JC would even know about.

“Wait… JC, besides having it at Bood’s, how do you know about this?” Anong questioned. His eyebrow raised as Hollander chuckled before taking a sip of his ginger ale.

“You know they’re cousins, right?” Hollander laughed.

“Like, actually related?” Anong asked even more confused. Hollander laughed a little louder as he nodded his head yes. “What the fuck?”

“I literally call him cuz, all the time, Star?” Boodram said as he shrugged. JC was next to Anong, nodding his head in agreement.

“Yeah, but like… Bood. I just thought it was just a Black people thing you were doing. You know, everyone is family. Everyone is cuz?” The table laughed at Anong’s confusion, as he slid down a little in the chair. He knew that family could get complicated and multiracial quickly, shit he had a Japanese cousin on his father side. But he was very confused trying to figure out, how this white man, with a French last name as LaPointe, was somehow Zane Boodram’s cousin.

“I can see you trying to do the math.” JC laughed. “It’s simple though, my grandmother, and his grandmother are sisters. They have the same father.” Anong sat up with wide eyes, wishing the information he was just told cleared things up. Now he had more questions. Did JC’s grandmother’s mother was white? Was the father white? How the hell did this happen? Does this mean that JC is technically Trinidadian?

“Your face is killing me Star.” Boodram laughed again. “But yes, his grandmother was born in Tobago, and mine was born in Trinidad. They knew of each other growing up and until they were mid-twenties, and then JC’s grandmother moved to Canada. And obviously this was the sixties, so they all lost contact eventually.”

“Okay, okay. Now, JC. Explain to me on how you’re white.” Anong got another loud laugh from the table, prompting the other groups to look at them.

“Grandmother married a white Canadian, had my uncles and my mom, and then she married a white French man, and here I am.” JC shrugged. “Also, it was funny learning about it because my grandmother didn’t follow hockey, but when I was drafted and she saw Bood, she went ‘wait, wait, das Angela last child’ and I was like, who is Angela? And she was like, my big sister third daughter and I was even more confused. Anyways, my mother reached out to Bood’s mom on Facebook and then they met up in Montreal and bam, we are cousins.”

“This is fascinating.” Anong said as he shook his head. “The world is truly a small place.”

“It is.” Hollander chimed in with a smile. “Also, very shocked you did not know, because didn’t Harris post about it for like a week?”

“I’ll be so honest Hollzy, I was not following Cens hockey until you signed with them, and even then, it was just to see how you guys terrorized the league with the powerplay.” Anong laughed as the three men let out a chorus of ‘true’.

“You at least watched a game when we played in Winnipeg though?” Boodram asked, as he was one of the few players on the team that was there before the 2020s.

“I mean, only because it was the cheapest tickets.” Anong said. Hollander snorted in his drink, which got a side glare from Boodram. “Come on Bood, you were trying your best, but it was you and giraffes on skates and Ebenezer Scrooge as a head coach. What was there to watch?”

“Ebenezer Scrooge is crazy.” JC laughed.

“No, I think that’s the most accurate description of Kipley I’ve ever heard. What a miserable man.” Boodram added as he shook his head.

“Do you think he changed his ways?” Hollander smiled, as if he knew the answer.

“Not fucking he.”  The groups laughter was paused when a familiar figure stepped towards the table. Anong looked up to see Marcus – dressed in a burgundy cashmere sweater and jeans that was so simple and should’ve done nothing to him – with a bright smile looking at him.

“Goodnight Hollzy, Bood and JC, good game. Do y’all mind if I steal my former teammate way from y’all for a bit?” His voice rumbled a bit. Anong was so distracted he didn’t realize that his teammates all in all abandoned him until Marcus slid into the booth, sitting right across from him.

“Second line with thee Shane Hollander? Big deal Anong, you’re a big deal.” Marcus’ smile widen as he leaned back against the booth. Anong shook his head, as he hoped his skin didn’t appear flushed. This was going to be a long conversation.

“Says the starting center of the Boston fucking Bears.” Anong said, giving back an equally big smile. Marcus shrugged as he dropped his hands on the table. Anong noticed that he had a large x on his hand (for legal reasons) and a cold bottle of water, slowly condensing on the table.

“Yeah, because it’s for sure not fucking Belov.” Marcus mumbled before taking large gulp on water. Anong looked at him with an amused look – there was certainly some animosity between him and the Russian and while he was not expecting Marcus to give the full rundown, he was truly interested on what was going on.

“Don’t look at me like that, I am not giving you insider intel.” Marcus chuckled as he shook his head. Anong put his hands up with a laugh, sinking back into the seat.

“Aye, I wasn’t the one who sounded like he wanted to get rid of the man.” Marcus groaned again, closing his eyes as he mumbled to himself. As funny as the situation was, Anong found himself staring, once more. Particularly at his plumped lips that was still moist from the water he just consumed. Anong knew he needed to get it together.

“Just.” Marcus rolled his eyes. “Just because you’re fucking Russian, doesn’t mean you’re the reincarnation of Ilya Rozanov, and I need his bitch ass to understand that.” Anong giggled at Marcus’s mumbling, earning him a huffed. He got it, a lot of younger Russian players tend to enter the league believing that they were the next coming of Ilya Rozanov, as if the man was dead, and not still a top player in the league.

“I can see that being very annoying.” Anong shook his head.

“Mhhm, how is the utopia that is Ottawa. My gosh, team has to be perfect.” Marcus sighed. Anong shook his head as he shrugged a bit.

“Good people, but please remember that this hockey. Porter homophobic as shit. Kuzmin has personal one-sided beef with Roz, and Kārkliņš suffer from the peak Eastern European mindset of still being oppressed despite being a white man in North America. He also tried to pretend to not know why calling Bood an ape was bad so.” Anong shrugged. Marcus gasped, as this was the most enlightening piece of gossip he experienced in a while.

“Didn’t Kārkliņš did high school in the US?”

“Thank you.” Marcus laughed out loud, shaking his head in suit.

“Other than international politics in the locker room, how are you though?” Anong noticed the small smile that settled on Marcus’ face as he sat up a little.

“I’m doing alright honestly. Being home is fun, complicated. Moved my mom out to Newton so some days I just go by her house and lay in her bed. Other days I get called fake and Hollywood by guys I grew up with. It’s mostly just me, Amanda, Jamal and Kaiden fucking up the city.”

“And fucking up the city, you mean by going to get ramen every other week?” Anong asked with a raised brow. He saw the Instagram stories and how Amanda complains that her life is now overran by men who insist on slurping noodles.

“Ahhh, so you have my Instagram notifications on. I knew it.” Marcus chuckled. Anong rolled his eyes as drained his now very flat beer. He did, but he wasn’t going to confirm nor deny that he did. He just wanted to make sure that Marcus was alright (and if that sometimes meant he saw a story 30 seconds after it was posted that was no-one’s business).

“But you know, I still have the same number, Anong. We don’t have to wait to be in the same city to catch up.” Marcus shrugged. Anong silently huffed to himself. Of course, he knew Marcus had the same number. He spent the entire summer texting it, just being left on return.

“I too, have the same number, Marcus. I don’t know, maybe we should both make use of it huh?” Anong retorted. Marcus smiled as he took another swig of his water.

“Just needed to make sure we are on the same page and the Cens didn’t make you get new numbers or some shit.” Anong squinted at Marcus. He knew the man was bullshitting him. There were so many ways to get Anong’s number. He just wished he knew why Marcus was adamant of having the conversation like this. However, he didn’t want things to get worse. So as much as he was going to comply for now, he also needed to make sure that Marcus knew where he truly stood.

“So, we are going to start make use of each other numbers then?” Anong said with a small smile. Marcus nodded his head, but a big grin across his face. Anong felt his chest pound a little, as if his heart wanted to start a race with the road runner. Now wasn’t the time for back and forth about the situation. Marcus gave him an opening, they were going to repair their relationship, even if it meant one text thread at a time. Anong took a deep breath and nodded his head. they can make it work. All was left to do, was to tell Marcus how much he missed him, and things would quickly go back on the right track.

“And, I just want to tell you, that I really, really mis-”

“Marcus, baby. There you are.” Anong blinked a couple times as the voice of a woman cut him off. When his vision finally cleared, he noticed the long legs of the dark-skinned woman, and the longer set of honey blonde braids that followed them. He knew the style; it was boho braids and only was up to date on it because Kiandra got hers done like that recently. What took a while to process, is that her now long legs were draped across Marcus, as she sat on his lap.

“Oh, where are my manners. I’m Alisha.” She said sweetly and she shook Anong’s hand. Anong gave her a polite smile in return, before adjusting his posture.

“Nice to meet you, Alisha. I’m Star.” Marcus watched him with a raised brow with a surprised look. He understood why. Anong has never introduced himself outside of hockey circles as Star, but they were in bar with other hockey players. This felt like a hockey circle.

“Ohh, that’s such a pretty name. And you’re handsome. I’ve heard Marcus talk about you when you guys were in Carolina.” Alisha said before she turned her head to squint at Marcus. “Why didn’t you tell me your cute friend was in town? Had me go do all the work tonight.” Anong watched the pair with a confused look as Marcus explained to her that they had a game earlier this evening and that Anong wasn’t into stuff like that. As Alisha fiend her disappointment, it clicked immediately. The stuff like that was most likely a threesome. While that wasn’t something he shamed others for participating in, he was too possessive for one. That’s why when Alisha pointed to the lanky man that was waiting for them in the corner, Anong felt his chest collapse. Marcus was about to leave this bar and have sex with this beautiful woman and this random lanky man, and Anong was about to confess how much he missed him.

Fuck.

Anong felt himself zone back in, long after Marcus and Alisha said their goodbyes. He was now at the bar, standing between JC and Boodram as he went for another beer. His brain was trying to catch up with his body, processing what just happened. Of course, Marcus doesn’t miss him, like that. Marcus was just being who he always was. A friend guy, who made sure everyone was good. It had nothing to do with previous feelings. Previous kisses. Previous touches. Why would he need Anong, when he had the entire city of Boston as his palm.

“Damn, Lewis pulled tonight.” JC whistled lowly before taking a sip of his new drink. Anong groaned internally as he saw Boodram smack the back of JC’s head.

“Damn, JC, read the fucking room sometimes.” Boodram mumbled. Yeah JC, read the fucking room, Anong thought, I am fucking suffering out here.

Chapter End Notes

Sooooooo, I hope y’all aren’t mad at me lmaoo. We need some bumpy roads. These are two 20sumn year olds that barely know themselves. Their communication is at a point where it’s actually nonexistent. They don’t hate each other, as he can see from this chapter, Anong really likes Marcus a lot, both as a friend and whatever the hell they were doing in Carolina. He wants more, he opened himself up for more, and then hot gal Alisha walked in and said heyyy :). Anong doesn’t resent Alisha for showing up, shit her initial reaction was to get them to carry him back home. Anong just felt he set himself up for disappointment and that he should’ve known better. Poor baby. This also isn’t on Marcus. Remember, Marcus haven’t heard a peep from Anong in how long, and he got someone who got his attention (and maybe heart) at this point. They aren’t together but Alisha is special to him. Think book Svetlana in this case.

Also, the entire drabble of us learning that Lapointe and Bood are cousins was truly something that just popped into my head recently. I was trying to figure out who Anong would be close to on the team, and as much as I love Luca (it was even in my original drafts), he is fanfic darling child. I like to go for the underdogs and being able to just flesh out Lapointe and make an entire world around him was fun. Also, every West Indian has a white cousin, you just do (I have a Japanese cousin and all lol). So yes, JC Lapointe’s grandmother and Zane Boodram’s grandmother are sisters. Their great grandfather was a sailor, so he was also having children everywhere.

Updates re: Shane and dem boyz series.
I have 11 chapters and an epilogue planned for this fic, and I am usually good with sticking to my chapter count for long fics. Once this is done, the following will happen:
- We Are African Americans… plus Mark (Shane) will be completed at 25 chapters (it is currently at 22; the last chapter will be posted when this series is completed).
- A deleted scene from Méc, j’ai besoin will be posted, which is a sex scene between Carter and J.J. at Carter’s family ranch.
- A special one-shot surrounding Carter x J.J. (can’t give the plot yet because it would be a spoiler)>
Once those things are posted that would be the end of the Shane and dem boyz series.
From then I would focus on the ever-extensive list of ideas that I currently have which would fall under four different categories/series: no series (so just a stand-alone), hollanov falling in love (again), family matters, and ashcoop wrote this with their clit (which currently has Ilya Rozanov is Shane Hollander’s Dildo

I think that’s all I have to say. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know your thoughts, questions, feelings, emoticons etc etc, in the comments.
Until next chapter <3

Chapter 5: i'm tryna keep it together, but i'm fallin' apart

Chapter Notes

Hey hey hey, welcome to another chapter that features, angst but also queer joy and some form of freedom. Chapter also features some queer themed memes that do have a deeper meaning and will be explained in the end notes. We are also welcomed to a group chat (not thee group chat) and below are the explanations for the contact names if you want some context before hand.

contact names and explanations for ‘the sexiest fillies in town’ group chat from Anong’s phone

Zane Boodram as boodilicious - a play on bootylicious and tribute to the destiny’s child song
Wyatt Hayes as hayesyy – play on his last name
JC Lapointe as not justin timberlake – reference to NSYNC member JC Chavez
Troy Barrett as troy bolton – reference to the main character of the High School Musical Trilogy, Troy Bolton
Evan Dkystra as dyk-straw – reference to how I feel Anong pronounces his last name
Ryland Holmberg as holmburger – a phonetic play on the Holmberg last name
Luca Haas as looouuucaaa – a phonectic play on how I feel Anong says his name
Harris Drover as cider plug – reference to the Drover Apple Cider empire
Shea Young as young n wild n free – reference to the Wiz Khalifa song Young, Wild and Free
Shane Hollander as mr canada – self-explanatory tbh like Shane Hollander is the Canadian golden boy… he is Canada *ques O Canada*
Ilya Rozanov as hey Arnold – Russian bisexual terminator = the terminator = Arnold Schwarzenegger = hey Arnold the nickelodeon cartoon from the 90s
Nick Chouinard as patagonia – reference to the founder of Patagonia Yvon Chouinard.

Happy reading :)
Chapter Song: We Belong Together by Mariah Carey

January 2025

Ottawa, Ontario

Since the win against Boston, the games go like this for the Ottawa Centaurs – win at Los Angels, loss at Anaheim, loss versus Los Angels, win versus Colorado, win versus Pheonix, loss versus Nashville, win versus Tampa, win versus Chicago. Despite the winning record throughout the month, going 5 wins out of 8 games, Anong felt he played the worst hockey he has ever played since he learnt how to skate. He wished it was only an issue that was plaguing him internally and just felt mentally fatigued as he pushed through the game. Unfortunately, it was translating on the ice. He was missing key passes from Hollander, missing reads that he knew he was able to detect from a mile away and simply was just being awful on the ice. After the loss back home after the road trip, Hollander sat next to him in the locker room, looking at him intently, as if that would provide the answers to all the questions he had.

“Remember earlier in the season, Ilya and I said you can talk to us about everything.” Hollander said softly as he leaned back against the locker that was next to his. Anong nodded his head as he tugged off the compression of his body.

“You’re playing terribly. Something is distracting you.” Anong snorted at Hollander’s bluntness, wishing he could take offense to the accusation and not nod his head in agreement.

“A lot has happened on the road trip. I think I’m a little out of it. I need to focus.” Anong simply added as he continued to prepare himself for the showers. He obviously wasn’t telling the entire truth, but he wasn’t lying either. A lot has happened. Besides the emotional disaster that happened to him at the bar in Boston, his family has taken this prime opportunity to be more overbearing than usual. It was the holidays and Christmas wish-lists were piling in. The ones from his siblings were simple, things such as electronics and clothes that Anong was more than willing to get for them. The wish lists from his aunts and uncles sounded more exuberant. One asked for the latest electric SUV, another for a sports car, and another for an investment into their company. Then of course, it was his parents once again, asking for a house, oh how beautiful the house for Christmas would be – sending him lists of multimillionaire homes within Winnipeg. So yes, a lot has happened, and to make issues worse, he was also not sleeping.

“I’m not going to sit here and say I have the all the answers. I’m not the best with social emotions and everything. But Star, if you need anything. Please let us know. Also, you should join myself, Wyatt and JC tomorrow for yoga, I think you need a stress reliever.” Anong laughed at the last point, nodding his head in agreement. He needed more than stress relief, but if yoga with the most flexible people he knew will help the body, he was going to take up the offer.

“Will do, Hollzy. I appreciate it.” With two pats on his shoulder, Anong was now left to his own thoughts. He needed to get it together; he just got promoted to the second line. He does not need to make coach Weibe look like a fool.

By the middle of their January homestead, the on-ice play was getting better – not to where he wanted it to be, but good enough in where he wasn’t costing them games nor having Weibe questioning his decisions. However, Anong was more irritable than anything. Because while on the ice was better, off the ice was getting so much worse. It started earlier in the week, when he got an unexpected visit from his father. He has been avoiding his parents like a plague, keeping their interactions to a minimum and not wanting to leave any room open for them to ask or demand anything from him. He did not get them a house for Christmas – what he did instead was started a trust fund for his unborn sibling, who should be arriving any time soon. Which made his father’s presence in Ottawa, even more jarring.

“Anong, my son, why are you ignoring us?” The commanding baritone voice of Anong’s childhood echoed as soon as his father – Chinweike Okafor – stepped into his apartment. Anong closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths. Hollander and Hayes were reminding him earlier at practice, the importance of breathing, and calming himself now.

“I am not ignoring you, pops. We are in a busy stretch of games now. It’s been practice, pt and nutrition.” He said as he followed his father into the living room, where the man already plopped down on to the couch. “What are you even doing in Ottawa?”

“It’s illegal to visit my son now?” Chinweike asked, daring his son to say the wrong answer. Anong just shook his head as he sat in the single armchair.

“It’s not, but seeing that mom can go in labor any day, it’s quite surprising.” Chineweike sucked his teeth waves off his son as he sank into the couch.

“Your mother has four children. She knows how to handle a fifth one if I’m not there. It’s also not easy if we aren’t getting thr new house Anong. What’s up with that?” Anong took another deep breath as he closed his eyes.

“Pops, the house you guys are in is brand new. It’s been two years. The mortgage is still being paid on it. I cannot afford to get you guys a new house. And you guys can definitely not afford it either.” Kiandra should be proud of him; he did not let this go back and forth before he explained himself.

“Man, that’s foolishness. Aren’t you making millions of dollars?” Chineweike piped back, staring at his son intently.

“Yes, and a lot of that already goes to the family. You don’t think it’s important that I actually save it? Who knows how long I would be playing hockey for? it’s such a finicky career and you know that.”

“That’s why I told you to go and become a doctor. No career ending injuries in medicine.” Anong groaned loudly as he threw his head back.

“I barely passed biology in high school, and you think I could survive med school? Also, I still would’ve been in school, and it would’ve been seven of us, in a two-bedroom house still.” Anong yelled.

“Who are you yelling at?” Chineweike pipped up.

“You! You come into my house, demanding for my money. Of course I am yelling at you.” Anong watched intently as his father clicked his tongue and leaned forward towards him.

“Remember this.” He started darkly. “Aka nri kwo aka ekpe, aka ekpe akwo aki nri.” When the right hand washed the left, the left washes the right.

“Doesn’t work if one of the hands don’t show up.” Anong said bluntly. Chineweike mumbled to himself before he stood up from the couch. He shook his head intently before walking back towards the door.

“It’s a long drive back to Winnipeg.” He said coldly. “And I hope that you take some time to read Luke 15, to remember where you went wrong.” Anong let out a loud sigh as he heard the door slam shut. He knew exactly what his father was referring to. the parable of the Prodigal Son. But he knew it didn’t apply to him, his father knew it didn’t apply to him. But it was already set in stone. He was seen as the son who collected his family riches and went away, with the hopes he would return back home begging for forgiveness. But how does that work when you’re the riches, you’re the one providing.

“Fucking hell man.”

January 2025

Sunrise, Florida

The week didn’t get better. His father continued to pester him, even asking his siblings to do the same. It didn’t stop when his mother went it labor, creating the narrative that it would be a good push gift for her. He sent her one of the most expensive gift baskets he could find, with the information for his new sister’s trust fund. The final straw, however, did not come from his family. It was a calm day. The team was currently in the visitor’s locker room of the Amerant Bank Arena preparing to go up against a fleeting Florida team. During his routine, he heard a loud gasp from the other side of the locker room, and mumbling started to emerge. Unfortunately for Anong, being nosey was second nature for him, so he piped up and asked what’s up?

“Your boy Lewy got pictures of him making out nasty with someone in TMZ.” Holmberg said, walking over to him with the phone in his hand. Anong felt his breath hitch as he looked at the picture. It was invasive and interrupting what was obviously a private moment. Marcus was kissing a man, someone that looked a little familiar to him, and had him pinned against the brick wall of the many buildings in Boston. Anong shook his head quickly, letting out a dry laugh to hide the initial moments he was feeling. The jealously that stung through him felt poisonous, as if a toxic venom was pulsing through him.

“Yeah, wished I was surprised.” Anong mumbled as he handed back Holmberg his phone.

“And I thought Roz was promiscuous when he was in Boston.” Someone, Anong wasn’t sure, snickered.  Anong looked up just in time to see Hollander rolling his eyes, just as Rozanov called for them to shut up, and then monologuing about less focusing on other player’s personal lives, and more focus on the team they were about to play. Anong was thankful for Rozanov, because he did not need to sit down and lament on the man, and what he was doing in Boston.

They won.

The final score of 5-2, and Anong found himself scoring and assisting Hollander on one of his two goals. The team wanted to go out and celebrate, but the schedulers of the league hated them, seeing they scheduled a home game for them the next day versus Dallas. So, the team found themselves on the team bus on the tarmac of Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport, waiting to be cleared to board their three-and-a-half-hour charter flight back to Ottawa.

He was deep in his thought, when he felt someone sitting into the empty seat next to him. He looked up to seeing a pensive look across his captain’s face, while Boodram as leaning across the seats in front of them. He looked between his C and A, wondering why they were cornering him while they sat on the bus. It was a long day, and exhausting game, and he was ready to be back in his bed.

“I don’t like how the both of you are looking at me right now.” Anong mumbled as he sank into the seat. The two men, who in Anong’s eyes were best friends and had their own form of silent communication, looked at each other before turning their attention back to him.

“Who we gotta kill?”

“Who I need to box off?” Rozanov and Boodram both said at the same time. Anong sat up, surprised by their reaction. What emotions were he giving off that they both decided that they need to resort to violence?

“Uh… no one.” Anong said carefully. Boodram sucked his teeth loudly as Rozanov shook his head.

“Impossible, Star. You spent this trip looking like someone stole your kitten, and then tonight you played as if you were avenging said kitten.” Rozanov said.

“I don’t have a kitten?” Anong questioned, slightly confused at his captain’s explanation.

“Not the point Star.” Boodram sighed. “What’s going on?” Okay, so he was not handling all his emotions well. Sure, Rozanov and Boodram were some of the most perspective persons he knew (including Wyatt) but seeing that Hollander kept turning back to look at them from his seat, tells him that he was being quite expressive in his emotions.

“A lot. Family and … and yeah.” Anong shrugged. Boodram and Rozanov both looked at each other again, then back at him.

“And yeah?” Rozanov asked. Anong shrugged once more as Rozanov sighed.

“Look, I know a lot about shitty family. Obviously, I will not beat your parents, but please let us know if you need support. You don’t need to go through these things alone.” Rozanov added as he patted Star’s shoulder.

“I’m not alone.” Anong mumbled. “I got my best friend?”

“Who lives in Winnipeg?” Boodram chimed in. “Look, Kiandra seems like a nice lady, even if she was trying to convince my wife to be our third.”

“She didn’t.” Anong groaned as he closed his eyes. Of course, she went up to them and made the joke, not joke, when she was visiting during family day. “I’m going to kill her.” Boodram’s deep laugh echoed through his head, the older man clearly amused.

“Don’t kill your one support system that you think is enough that you don’t need us.” He added. Ouch. That was a fair point.

“Fine.” Anong huffed. “And fine, I’ll try and be more willing to ask for help. I think.”

“That’s a start.” Rozanov smiled. “It’s not easy, but it’s going to be worth it. Because as much as we appreciate how you played today, it’s not going be sustainable long term.”

“Definitely not. And I don’t need Hollzy on all our necks because your shining star is going through it and we are being bad captains and not helping.” Boodram chuckled a bit. Anong nodded his head and gave them a small smile. They were right, he doesn’t have to deal with whatever the emotions he was feeling alone.

January 2025

Buffalo, New York

It started the night they landed in Buffalo. They were spending two whole days in the city. An early game the following the day, and a late flight to Toronto the day after. Player services argued it’s because their preferred hotel in Toronto was booked out and the flight over wasn’t going to be too long. So, the team were already making plans on how they were going to spend their long evening in cold ass Buffalo, New York. Anong wished they would just stay indoors, but for a team who doesn’t have a party image, they truly had no idea how to stay put. It was usually a curse, but that night, Anong decided to use it as a blessing.

He opened one of the team’s many side chats (but the one that’s the most important to them) – the sexiest fillies in town, which consisted of Rozanov, Hollander, Boodram, Hayes, Dykstra, Chouinard, Boyle, Barrett, Holmberg, JC, Haas, Young and Harris – filled with messages of which queer bar they should take over after they crush Buffalo into smithereens (Rozanov’s words). He usually never participated in the conversation, just showed up (the last time he didn’t show up JC was knocking down his door). It was at this moment, his chaos monster (or as Kiandra liked to say, his inner Ki), came out – finally contributing to the conversation.

the sexiest fillies in town

anong: wait, before we make a decision on where we are going. I think I should say something.

boodilicious: 👀

hayesyy: 👀

not justin timberlake: oh shit…. He is actually talking in here… shit serious.

troy bolton: this is such a big deal omg.

dyk-straw: ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

holmburger: this might be the best day of my life

loooouuucaaa: one day, this chat would not be this dramatic

cider plug: false. wrong. buzzer.

cider plug: never this group.

young n wild n free: okay but it is A BIG DEAL. Star just shows up and laugh reacts to messages

mr canada: I don’t think y’all reacting like this makes it easier for him.

hey arnold: everyone hush! Star got an announcement

patagonia: ahhhhhh

hey arnold: I said hush!!

anong: okay okay, I just want to share somethings that ummm… I relate to?

anong: cools

anong: me to me like last year:

anong:

anong: oh this for me, hollander, cap, bolton, harris, luca and jc

anong:

anong: that’s all. So where are we going tomorrow night?

hey arnold: the gayest fucking bar in buffalo!!!!!!!

loooouuucaaa: HELL YEAHHHHHHHH. Thanks for trusting us Star

cider plug: omg, I love working for the gayest team in the league. You guys make my gay heart swell.

troy bolton: wait babe

cider plug: relax barrett… it’s an euphemism

dyk-straw: the last song sounds good and I can’t ever sing it out loud

holmburger: nope

young n wild n free: YOOOW LETS GET ANONG LAID TONIGHTTTTTTT

patagonia: I support that message. Certain there are young hot gays in Buffalo

hey arnold: ehhh

mr canada: ehhhh

loooouuucaaa: well, there are gays in buffalo

boodilicious: skfjkdjdfkjdjfdx this is sending me.

boodilicious: thank you for sharing this with us though Star. You already we know *we* got you – I don’t know about the non-sexiest fillies in town. But they could try and my fist will connect.

mr canada: what Bood said… kinda minus the violence

boodilicious: hollzy please, don’t front

mr canada: also how come you never showed me that song????

boodilicious: why would i?????? notorious straight guy here.

hayesyy: well….

mr canada: hmmm, we will discuss this with the boyz later @boodilicious

not justin timberlake: wait….. we could’ve been kissing as homies all this time???

anong: eh… I don’t do white boys.

mr canada: real

hey arnold: ??????????????????????????

 

Anong laughed loudly at Hollander’s and Rozanov interaction, and quickly sending a screenshot to Kiandra.

kiki do you love me: oh you wild boy 🤣. Have fun and kiss some boys for me 😘

 

The following night, after beating Buffalo 2-0, Anong found himself and the rest of the crew in the most offensively gay bar he has ever stepped foot in. not only was the bar draped in every queer flag known to man, their drinks named after various queer icons and art that he still find himself question what is it truly supposed to be. The vibe of the bar was settling for him, as a freshly out – to not just Kiandra, his siblings (and presumably Marcus), man. He was sipping on his third glass what the bar called Rutastic (homage to Ru Paul) nodding to the bass of the house music around them, when JC and Luca both walked up to him with big grins. He has only been on the team for a couple of months, but he knew that when JC looped Luca into something, it was never a good idea, and he was about to be the target of the not good idea.

“Let’s kiss some boys tonight!” JC yelled. Anong watched him with a perplexed look before turning to Luca who chugged half of his beer.

“Why the fuck not? There are actually hot people in here tonight. Find you a good kiss!” Luca yelled with the same level of enthusiasm. Anong craned his head around as he looked for the actual adults on the team. Sure, JC and Luca might be a few years older than him, but they all (including him) function on the same Gen Z brain cell that sometimes (a lot of the times) have them making some questionable decisions. However, the Hollander-Rozanovs were in their own world, Bood and Wyatt were currently challenging some off the clock drag queens to darts, and he had no idea where anyone else were. Fuck, it’s boy kissing with JC and Luca time.

“Fine.” He mumbled as the other two cheered. He threw back the rest of his drink, hoping the alcohol seep deeply into his veins before following his teammates out onto the dance floor. It didn’t take long for Luca to swept up by an older man, grinding their bodies together. Luca looked over at him and JC, winking at them before pulling the man into a deep filthy kiss.

“If you can’t tell from the boy crush he has on Roz and Hollzy, Luca loves older men.” JC chuckled as he grabbed a laughing Anong’s hand. “Let’s get deeper in the crowd and find you a nice handsome man to dance with.”

It took a while for that nice handsome man to show up, but with a little encouragement from JC and Luca, who finally came up for air, he found himself in the arms of a gentlemen that had a similar complexion to his who was a little taller than him, his long locs pulled into a ponytail, and some of the plumpest lips he has ever seen, adorned by a clean goatee. Anong laughed to himself a little, wondering if goatees have become his type. It didn’t matter at this moment, because the man who introduced himself as Darion, was now grinding the lower half of his body against Anong’s ass, while his lips were leaving tender touches against his neck, inciting one of the best feelings he felt in a long time. Anong wasn’t sure how long he was in this man’s strong arms, but their bodies didn’t move from each other, especially not when Anong turned around and pulled him into a kiss. He heard the low whistles around him, thinking it was either his teammates or just the other patrons excited to see two hot men kissing. It didn’t matter though, because this was the most out of his head that he had felt in a long time, and he hoped as he now navigated his life as an out queer man, then he can finally feel free.

“Don’t you think we should move this to somewhere more private?” Darion whispered deeply in his ear. Anong knees nearly buckled at the vibrations, nodding his head in agreement. He was going to find more than one way to feel free.

 

January 2025

Boston, Massachusetts

Marcus was standing in the kitchen of his Seaport apartment, as he listened to Amanda, Jamal and Kaiden go back and forth about the best Haitian food spot in the city, when his phone started to buzz with a string of texts. By what seemed at the twentieth buzz, the conversation amongst the three of them went silent as they looked at his phone as if it was a bomb.

“Who the fuck blowing up your shit?” Kaiden chuckled as he slid the phone towards Marcus. Marcus shrugged as he picked it up, noticing that the notifications were from Alisha. Alisha moved earlier in the month to Rhode Island, starting her bachelor’s at Johnson and Wales. It was a move that made the group sad, but they were all supportive of her and her dreams, and they all (mostly Marcus) pitched in to make her move go smoothly. He guessed that the string of texts was just her updating him of settling on campus and a new state in general, what he wasn’t expecting was the string of paragraphs that had him feeling dizzy.

“Oh.” Marcus mumbled more to himself as he squinted his eyes at the phone.

“What happened?” Amanda asked, worry across her face. “Is Lish okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. She is good.” He whispered, gaining a small sigh from the group. “She just broke up with me though.” The silence the fell amongst the four of them felt sharp, as if someone took a knife and twisted it deeply into Marcus’ heart, twisting it slowly in a clockwise moment.

“That doesn’t make any sense, she was literally talking about you yesterday.” Jamal said as he shook his head. “Like deadass.”

“Well, you guys can read it for yourselves, but I’m certain those are five paragraphs worth of text on why we can’t continue to be together anymore.” Marcus shrugged as he dropped the phone on the counter, walking towards the living. He heard the three of them mumble towards each other as he plopped down onto the floor, limbs spread across his rug, letting his emotions flow through him. He wished he was frustrated or angry. He wished he could feel the same amount of vitriol that was seeping out of his kitchen, his best friends upset that this was done over text. He wished he could accuse her of using him and his new wealth. The petty side of him wants to cling on to and form a big bubble of resentment towards Alisha. But all he felt was sadness. Sadness because the loss felt familiar. A strong connection, someone he thought understood him, just ripped away by distance and whatever influence happened in distance. Sure, their relationship wasn’t anything monogamous nor traditional. But those were the parameters they set together and always checked in to make sure it was the case. There was excitement, thrill, but there was also so much love and compassion and joy. And it was all ripped from him over text.

Again.

Funny that it happened twice huh? Someone should run him is nickels.

He heard the footsteps of his friends moving into the living room. He let out a loud huff as Kaiden dropped himself down on top of him, wrapping him into a big hug.

“It’s going to be okay. You had fun, and now it’s time for a new chapter in your story. You got a playoff run to secure.” Kaiden said before tucking his head between Marcus’ neck and the rug. Marucs let out a deep sigh, letting the heaviness of his friend’s body regulate him a bit. They stayed like this for a while. The four of them silent, heavy breathing filling the quiet of the apartment. It was when Marcus finally caught himself, his thoughts finally not swarming into mush is when he finally let it out.

“What’s crazy about all of this. I’m just sad. And it made me think about Anong anymore and why the fuck he wouldn’t text me back? I thought we figured this shit out.” The tears that were rooted deep within him finally spilled out. Why was it so hard for someone to stick around and love him?

Chapter End Notes

Ooof, okay that was a lot. Anong as the breadwinner, is constantly having to have tough conversations with his family. He doesn’t hate them, but he doesn’t particularly like them at the moment, especially as they continue to ignore his boundaries. It’s always a frustrating conversation when you have to tell your parents no. it’s even worse when your parent shows up to your door unannounced and you have to tell them no. Poor Anong. I didn’t want him to play badly for the entire month of January. That just felt cruel. He just proves to himself that he could play on Shane’s line, there was no room to fuck up for too long. However, I found it important that Shane was the first one to speak to him about it. Their relationship isn’t this deep friendship, but Shane reminds him that he has people that he can lean on. That’s honestly the overarching theme for this chapter for Anong. He is not alone, despite his insistence that it should be him and Marcus locked in (thus the chapter song), he isn’t alone in his journey both on and off the ice. I made JC his hype man, because why not, and he needed some non-super mature guidance as well. Lastly, the memes I used for him coming out was both a nod to his heritage but also showing how it might be hard for him to accept himself as a gay man. The first clip is from an interview on a Ugandan program called Morning Breeze, where they have a ‘debate’ on Homosexuality in Uganda
with LGBTQAI Activist Pepe Julian Onzima. It’s a polarizing conversation but the interview from 2013 became a meme as the host was truly trying to understand (in the most floundering matter) Pepe’s identity and ‘reasoning’ (idk if that’s the right word) behind it.
The second clip comes the from the song Wo Fie by Angel Maxine ft Wanlov the Kubolor & Sister Debroah , as they continue to stage the fight against Ghana’s colonial homophobic laws and criminalization . The clip with Sister Debroah went viral (because it’s such a fun ear worm) and I think it’s a very important step to understand the issues that LGBTQ folks face on the continent (and worldwide tbh).

 

Battyman Party, as funny as I truly find the song, is honestly a song of protest. The reason I said such is because Dancehall (as much as I love it), is inherently a very homophobic genre, which can be very isolating to some (not all) queer listeners of the genre.
Turning to Marcus now, my poor baby. Every time he feels like he has something, it just disappears. Do not view Alisha as a villain in this story. Remember they are 19/20 and as much it’s fun living it up and kissing all the different men and women in Boston with your millionaire boyfriend, Rhode Island might have something different for her. However, even in a space where Marcus has his friends and support, he still feels like the person he loves has been removed from him. At first, he thought it was just Alisha, but we can see at the end, it’s truly Anong and the wounds just feel fresh again. An important thing to note, notice how when it came time to physically comfort him, Kaiden was the one who did it. Also, there was that TMZ article of Marcus kissing down a dude and Anong said he looked familiar. Remember that.
Next chapter, more into Marcus’ spiral and how he handles heartbreak (spoiler: not well) and more Anong navigating being hot, and out and gay.