Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationships:

Ryan Price/Fabian Salah, Troy Barrett/Harris Drover, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Troy Barrett & Ryan Price

Characters:

Ryan Price (Game Changers), Troy Barrett, Fabian Salah, Harris Drover, Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, Dallas Kent, Wyatt Hayes

Additional Tags:

Book 5: Role Model (Game Changers), Coming Out, POV Ryan Price, Homophobia, Book 3: Tough Guy (Game Changers), Internalized Homophobia, Homophobic Language, POV Outsider, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Social Media, Ottawa Centaurs (Game Changers)

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-17 Completed: 2026-03-31 Words: 8,875 Chapters: 5/5

The Tough Guy and the Role Model

Summary

Hiding behind it?

Surely he didn’t mean—

“Wait,” Ryan heard himself saying, before he could ponder if he even should. “You’re gay?”

Or,

Troy Barrett's apology to Ryan Price, retold from Ryan's POV.

Chapter 1

Chapter Notes

I haven't written fanfiction in over a decade and I've never published anything on AO3, but Heated Rivalry and the Game Changers series have me in a chokehold, so here I am. I have no idea if this is any good or if anyone is going to read it, but it was nice to write something again!

January 2021 – Ottawa

The club that night was packed, something that would have made Ryan anxious just a few short years ago. By now, though, he was used to it. And it was easy to forget about everyone and everything else when Fabian was onstage. Lovely, beautiful Fabian. Even after two years together, Ryan sometimes still couldn’t believe that Fabian was his. That this gorgeous, talented man loved him back.

He stared with rapt attention as Fabian sang the final chorus of his encore song and the crowd erupted into thunderous applause, his concentration only breaking when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone approaching him. He pulled his gaze away from his boyfriend, who was blowing kisses at the crowd, and refocused it on the dark-haired man headed his way.

He looked familiar.

Wait.

No. It couldn’t be…

Troy Barrett?

At a Fabian Salah show?

In Ottawa?

“Hey,” Barrett said, coming to a stop in front of him.

What the hell was this? Ryan should already be making his way backstage to meet up with Fabian. That’s where he wanted to be. With Fabian. Not trapped in a conversation with Troy fucking Barrett, of all people.

But curiosity got the better of him. “Barrett? What are you doing here?”

“I came with a friend.”

A vague response that did nothing to clear the situation up. As he stood there, unsure of what to say next, an unwelcome memory pushed its way to the front of Ryan’s mind.

He’s on a plane, somewhere over the flat vastness of the American Midwest. There’s turbulence, sending his brain spiraling into a panic. He grips the arms of his seat, knuckles white. In front of him, Dallas Kent is showing Troy Barrett something on his phone, both of them seemingly unbothered by the bumpiness the plane is currently experiencing.

Normally, Ryan would try to ignore whatever it is that Kent and Barrett are saying, but he finds himself focusing on their words, anything to take his mind off the fact that he is hurtling through the air in a metal tube that is being jostled roughly up and down.

“She’s fucking hot, right?” Kent is saying.

“Totally.”

Ryan wonders if Barrett has ever disagreed with anything Kent’s said. Kent must love it, having a best friend who’s actually more of a devoted little lackey.

“She was so fucking desperate for it too, man. You wouldn’t believe it,” Kent says. “And get this, afterwards, we’re lying there, right? And she tells me that a couple years ago, she hooked up with Rozanov. She said it only happened the one time. She thought he’d text her the next time he was in town, but he never did. She was like, ‘You’ll text me, right? You won’t ghost me like he did, will you?’” Kent snorts. “So fucking desperate.”

“Damn,” Barrett says. “You’ve resorted to nailing Rozanov’s leftovers? Maybe you’re the one who’s desperate.”

Kent whacks Barrett in the arm. Barrett whacks him back. They both laugh.

Ryan’s stomach churns and not because of the turbulence.

Back in the present, he glanced around. Was Dallas Kent the friend that Barrett was here with? He couldn’t imagine that Kent would ever show up to one of Fabian’s shows. But, up until mere moments ago, he couldn’t have imagined that Barrett would either. Luckily, at least from his cursory glance around the room, it appeared that Kent was nowhere in sight. “Why are you in Ottawa?” he asked, redirecting his attention back to Barrett.

Barrett looked surprised by the question. “I play here now.”

Wow, Ryan was even more out of the hockey loop than he’d realized. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry. I don’t follow hockey too closely anymore.”

The fact that Barrett was playing for Ottawa now still didn’t explain what he was doing here in this club though. And why it appeared that he’d come over here to make small talk with Ryan like they were old pals.

“It’s okay.” Barrett tilted his head toward the recently vacated stage. “Is that really your boyfriend?”

Ryan smiled, forgetting, for a moment, who he was talking to. “Yeah. I know, I can’t believe it either.”

Barrett didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on Ryan’s face. The pride Ryan had been feeling a second ago slipped away. He suddenly felt very nervous. What was Barrett going to say next? He could make an unkind remark about Fabian’s elaborate makeup or the outfit he’d been wearing onstage—a black minidress, large feathered wings, and strappy gold sandals. He could throw out a slur or say something nasty about the two women—one with pink hair and the other with a buzzcut—who were feverishly making out in the corner a few feet away. Ryan wasn’t sure he could stomach any of it.

“You look good,” Barrett said instead.

Oh.

He certainly hadn’t been expecting that. A compliment? From Troy Barrett?

“Look, um, I know this probably won’t mean much to you,” Barrett continued, “but I want to apologize. I was a complete asshole to you when we played together, and I’m sorry. It makes me sick thinking about how I treated you.”

The idea that Barrett had given Ryan even a passing thought in the years since Ryan left Toronto was shocking, let alone that he’d apparently been plagued by guilt over his behavior. Ryan hadn’t realized he was even capable of self-reflection.

“Uh, okay. No problem.”

“Especially about the fear of flying thing. I can’t believe how horrible and immature I was. And I kind of got a taste of how you must have felt.”

Ryan’s palms instantly started sweating.

“Right. I heard about the plane thing,” he said, trying to sound as casual as possible. He hadn’t been on the plane. It hadn’t crashed. The Ottawa Centaurs had not all died horrible, fiery deaths. They were safe. He was safe. “I didn’t know you were on that plane because I didn’t know you played for Ottawa, but, um, it seemed like a nightmare.”

“It was pretty fucking scary.”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” Ryan said. “I haven’t been on a plane since I quit hockey.”

“Really?” Barrett asked, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “I heard that you travel with your boyfriend when he tours.”

The casual way Barrett said “your boyfriend” didn’t escape Ryan’s notice. There was no vitriol or mocking behind it. It was surprising, but nice. But how did Barrett know about any of this?

“We drive. Or he flies alone. I don’t go on every trip,” Ryan said. “Who’s telling you all of this?”

“Uh...” Barrett looked like he was considering his next words carefully. “My friend Harris. He’s a big fan of Fabian’s and he does the social media for the Centaurs. He’s...gay.”

Ryan’s eyebrows shot up. Barrett really was full of surprises tonight. “You have a gay friend now?”

Now it was Barrett’s turn to look nervous. “Yeah, uh. That’s the other thing I wanted to apologize for. I said a lot of homophobic shit when I played for Toronto and I shouldn’t have. I don’t want to make excuses, but I was kind of...hiding behind it, if you know what I mean. That doesn’t make it less shitty. But it’s why I did it.”

Hiding behind it?

Surely he didn’t mean—

“Wait,” Ryan heard himself saying, before he could ponder if he even should. “You’re gay?”

“Yes.”

Ryan let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d even been holding. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

“I know.”

Ryan thought back to the day that the NHL’s most infamous rivals, Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander, had announced the Irina Foundation. The team had been gathered around the TV in Toronto’s practice facility, watching in shock as Shane explained that he and Ilya were actually friends off the ice and were starting a charity to raise money for mental health organizations. Then Ilya had discussed how his mother, who the foundation was named for, had lost her battle with depression. It had been poignant and heartfelt, and it was hard to imagine that anyone with a heart wouldn’t have been touched by Ilya’s words.

Which is why it had been so jarring when Barrett had opened his mouth. “They’re probably fucking,” he’d sneered, the guys around him all laughing. And Kent, never one to pass up the opportunity to be the biggest asshole in the room, had chimed in with, “Gross. Rozanov would never. But I’ll bet Hollander is a fucking homo.”

How many other homophobic things had Ryan heard them both spew during the season he’d spent playing for Toronto? Sure, Kent had been worse. But he’d heard plenty of homophobic comments slip out of Barrett’s mouth with such casual cruelness. It was hard to wrap his mind around this new piece of information.

There really was no excuse for it. Ryan had spent years in the closet while playing hockey, but he’d never resorted to hurling around homophobic insults to help cover the truth. And neither had Ilya or Shane or Scott Hunter.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little bad for the guy, thinking about how miserable he must have been.

“Does your friend know you’re gay?” Ryan asked.

“Who? Harris?”

“No, Dallas.”

Barrett made a face that Ryan couldn’t quite decipher. “Wow. You really haven’t been following hockey. We’re not friends anymore.”

“Oh,” Ryan said, wondering how he had missed what had apparently been a public falling out between two of hockey’s most notorious best friends. Apparently Kent’s devoted little lackey wasn’t so devoted after all. “Good.”

“I know.”

They looked at each other for a moment longer, an awkward silence settling over them.

“I should go meet Fabian backstage,” Ryan finally said. “But, um...” He trailed off, realizing he had no idea how to wrap up this very unexpected conversation. The man had just come out to him, after all. Should he try to offer some words of wisdom? He wasn’t really a words of wisdom kind of guy.

“Yeah. Of course. Go." And then, with more earnestness than Ryan would have ever thought Troy Barrett was capable of, he added, “I’m glad you’re happy, Ryan.”

Ryan was aware that Barrett was considered one of the most attractive players in the league. Hell, in 2016, he’d been ranked #2 on Cosmopolitan’s list of Hottest Men in the NHL. Ryan only knew this fact because, when he’d joined Toronto two years later, Kent still occasionally liked to bring up what a grave injustice it had been that Barrett had lost out on the #1 spot to “that cock-sucking pussy Shane Hollander.”

But Ryan had never really been able to see the appeal. Barrett’s personality had overshadowed his looks, the nasty smirk on his face whenever he taunted Ryan marring his features. But now, in this nightclub in Ottawa several years later, Ryan could finally see it. His soft, sincere eyes and the shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t Ryan’s type, but yeah, Troy Barrett was handsome.

He was, however, no Fabian. Ryan missed Fabian. He wanted to hold him in arms, tell him how wonderfully he’d performed. He wanted to kiss his perfect mouth. He wanted to go back to their hotel room and think of no one else for the rest of the night. It was time to officially wrap this conversation up.

“Good luck with, y’know, figuring everything out,” he said with a nod, as he turned to go.

“Thanks, man,” he heard Barrett murmur quietly.

What a weird fucking night, Ryan thought to himself, as he maneuvered his way past the scattered groups of people still hanging around on the dance floor. Troy Barrett was gay. Ryan really hadn’t seen that one coming. And he seemed so different. Like, somewhere along the line, he’d maybe become a decent guy. Ryan really, really hadn’t seen that one coming.

Then he was backstage. And Fabian was smiling at him. He was radiant, dazzling. Ryan’s heart fluttered. And all thoughts of Troy Barrett disappeared.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks for reading! Next chapter: Ryan finds out the reason that Troy is no longer friends with Dallas Kent

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

This chapter contains mentions of rape that occurred in the past, but nothing is described in any detail.

January 2021 – Toronto

It was a week before Ryan gave Troy Barrett more than a passing thought again.

Fabian was in Vancouver for a show, and Ryan was at home in Toronto because going with him would have required getting on a plane. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt every time Fabian left for a concert without him, despite his boyfriend always reassuring him that he didn’t mind. (“I don’t need you at every one of my shows, babe. It’s honestly probably better that you’re not there for them all. Less chance of you getting bored of watching me perform the same songs over and over again.”)

As if Ryan could ever get bored of watching Fabian perform.

He sighed, setting aside the book he’d been reading and picking up his phone. It was 11pm, meaning it was only 8pm in Vancouver. Fabian wouldn’t even be taking the stage for another hour. They usually Facetimed after the shows that Ryan missed, but he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stay awake long enough for that tonight.

He opened his messages, typing out a quick text:

Good luck tonight ❤️ Wish I was there!

He didn’t get a response right away, not that he expected to. Fabian was no doubt busy getting ready for the show. He slumped down lower on the couch. A week ago, he’d been at a club, watching the love of his life perform for a crowd of his adoring fans. Now, he was alone in their living room on a Friday night, and Fabian was on the opposite end of the country. Some way, somehow, Ryan needed to get his fear of flying under control.

He wanted to be there for Fabian. At every show. Always.

And hopefully, getting jumpscared by assholes from his past wouldn’t become a regular occurrence at any of those future shows.

As soon as the thought materialized, he felt bad for even thinking it. He hadn’t really minded talking to Barrett. It was nice to know that he was apparently on some sort of journey of self-reflection and self-acceptance. Ryan was happy for him, he really was.

But god, he’d been such an unpleasant little prick back when they’d played together. And could someone who’d voluntarily been best friends with Dallas fucking Kent of all people truly be a decent person?

It was another thought that Ryan immediately felt bad for having. Barrett had been a young, closeted hockey player stuck on a team full of homophobic shitheads, obviously terrified of being outed, who had decided that his best course of action to prevent that happening was to become one of the homophobic shitheads himself. It didn’t make it okay, targeting others to avoid becoming the target himself, but Ryan understood why he’d done it.

What he couldn’t understand was how Barrett had spent all that time hanging out with those guys—with Kent—listening to the shit they were spewing, echoing it himself, without fucking snapping.

A snippet of their conversation from last weekend flashed across his mind:

“Does your friend know you’re gay?”

“Who? Harris?”

“No, Dallas.”

“Wow. You really haven’t been following hockey. We’re not friends anymore.”

What had he meant by that anyway? Why would following hockey have made Ryan aware that Barrett and Kent weren’t friends anymore? What had happened between them? Curiosity got the better of him, and he picked his phone back up. Opening Google, he typed “troy barrett” into the search bar and skimmed over the results. A headline from an article posted in November caught his eye:

Troy Barrett Traded to Centaurs After Blow-Up Fight with Teammate

He clicked on the article and started reading.

The Ottawa Centaurs have acquired forward Troy Barrett from the Toronto Guardians in exchange for a conditional third round pick in the 2021 NHL Draft and a conditional fourth round pick in the 2022 NHL Draft.

The trade comes just days after leaked footage of a Guardians practice on Monday showed an altercation between Barrett and Toronto’s star center Dallas Kent. The spat ended with Barrett storming off the ice after seemingly alluding to recent sexual assault allegations that have been made against Kent.

Below this paragraph, there was an embedded video. Ryan pressed play.

The footage looked to have been filmed on a phone, recorded by someone at Toronto’s practice facility who had no doubt realized that capturing an argument between the two best friends would do wonders for his or her social media engagement.

Barrett and Kent were in each other’s faces, clearly exchanging heated words, but not speaking loudly enough for Ryan to make out what they were saying. Barrett shoved Kent, hard, and this time his words rang out loud and clear, echoing through the rink, “You’re a piece of shit rapist, Dallas.”

The person recording the video gasped. The other players began murmuring amongst themselves. For once, Kent seemed to have been rendered speechless, staring at his best friend in shock.

“What the fuck, Barrett?” one of the other players asked loudly, but Barrett ignored him, already skating off the ice.

The video ended there, and Ryan leaned back, stunned. He didn’t know what he expected the falling out between Barrett and Kent to have been about, but it wasn’t that. He scrolled past the video and resumed reading.

In a detailed Reddit post last Friday, an anonymous user accused Kent of raping her during a house party last spring at his Kleinburg home. Several other posts making similar allegations have since appeared online.

Although there has been no official confirmation that Barrett’s trade is related to the incident at Monday’s practice, the announcement of the trade came just two days later.

“I gave 110% every time I stepped onto the ice for Toronto, and I plan to do the same for Ottawa,” Barrett said Wednesday. “I’ve always admired Ilya Rozanov as a player, so I’m looking forward to the opportunity to play on the same line as him."

When asked about his squabble with Kent, Barrett declined to comment.

No official statement has been made by the NHL or the Toronto Guardians regarding the allegations against Kent.

Holy shit.

Of course Ryan knew that there were players in the league who were rapists and abusers. But, as shitty as Dallas Kent was, he’d never realized he was this horrifyingly shitty. He’d known he was a womanizer. Kent had never been shy about bragging about his sexual exploits with women—loudly and graphically—in the locker room. But it had never occurred to Ryan that there was anything non-consensual happening behind closed doors.

He found himself on Reddit, reading through the posts written by the accusers. The details were so specific—turns of phrases that Kent had used regularly, accurate descriptions of his mannerisms and of the interior of his gaudy mansion.

Ryan had only been to a party at Kent's house once. He’d barely spent any time there before leaving to meet up with Fabian, but he remembered how many women had been in attendance, remembered remarking to Wyatt Hayes about how young some of them looked. His stomach turned. What if something awful had happened that night to one of those women? And if not that night, if not that party, clearly on other nights, at other parties. Ryan had no doubt in his mind that these accusers were telling the truth.

Another Google search confirmed that Kent was still playing for Toronto, still the golden boy of a division-leading team. Ryan wasn’t surprised. Of course the NHL would protect one of its biggest stars. Of course the fans still adored him. Of course selling tickets and scoring goals were more important than getting justice for victims of sexual assault.

It made Ryan want to slam his head into a wall. Every day, he was more relieved that he’d retired from hockey when he had.

Meanwhile, the one player who’d been willing to call Kent out publicly had been shipped off to the worst team in the league as punishment. And that one player had been Troy Barrett? The guy who’d once told Ryan to “stop being such a fucking pansy” on a flight when they’d hit a rough bit of turbulence and Ryan had gasped a bit too loudly? Dallas Kent’s little sidekick was the only one willing to stand up and call a rapist a rapist?

Ryan hoped that Barrett had said something because he was genuinely angry about what Kent had done to those women. He hoped he hadn’t been mad about something else and used the accusations as a “gotcha” moment in their fight. He hoped Barrett believed the women. He hoped he really cared.

Since he had nothing better to do than continue down these internet rabbit holes for the rest of the night, Ryan opened the Instagram app on his phone, which he mostly only had so he could see posts from Fabian’s concerts, and found Barrett’s page. His eyes widened a little when he read his bio: NHL player for the Ottawa Centaurs. I believe victims of sexual assault.

Oh.

There were only three posts. The first was a gym selfie. The second listed phone numbers and websites of organizations that helped survivors of sexual assault. The third was an infographic with statistics about sexual assault.

Oh.

It seemed that perhaps Troy Barrett cared quite a bit.

The top comment on the most recent post was from ilyarozanov81: I have the best teammates in the world ❤️

Ryan knew that Ilya Rozanov had a reputation for being an asshole. And yeah, maybe he was a little, especially on the ice. But Ryan was lucky enough to know the real Ilya. The one who cared deeply about mental health awareness and suicide prevention. The one who had purposely cultivated a safe, accepting environment at the Game Changers hockey camps. The one who loved Shane Hollander fiercely.

Ryan knew how Ilya had felt about guys like Kent and Barrett. He’d made it no secret during games when Toronto had faced off against Ottawa.

So Barrett winning Ilya Rozanov over?

That spoke volumes.

Chapter End Notes

As someone who knows nothing about hockey or the NHL, I was fighting for my LIFE trying to write the article that Ryan was reading. So if you see something that doesn't make sense, no you didn't ❤️

Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be Ryan watching Troy's coming out video!

Chapter 3

Chapter Notes

February 2021 – Toronto

“Holy shit!” Fabian exclaimed from their bedroom, loud enough that Ryan could hear him in the kitchen.

He groggily looked up from his cereal. They’d been out late last night, celebrating their friend Vanessa’s birthday, and Ryan still hadn’t fully woken up. “Fabian? What’s wrong?”

His boyfriend appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes glued to his phone. “Another NHL player just came out,” he said, as he made his way over to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs. He was still in his pajamas, hair sticking out at odd angles. Although Ryan loved Fabian when he was on stage in all his glory, done up in his elaborate stage outfits and makeup, he also loved him like this. Bare faced, wearing an old hoodie of Ryan’s that was almost comically large on him, and so incredibly beautiful that it still made Ryan’s heart race.

“Really? Who?”

“Some guy named Troy Barrett,” Fabian said, as he carried the eggs over to the counter. “You know him?”

“Oh,” Ryan said. “Yeah, I already knew that.”

Fabian finally tore his eyes away from his phone and looked over at Ryan. “What? You knew he was gay? How?” He tossed the carton of eggs down on the counter and scampered over to the table where Ryan was eating. “He just posted his coming out video like twenty minutes ago, and you haven’t even touched your phone this morning!”

“He told me. It was at one of your shows actually. The one in Ottawa last month.”

“Ryan Price, are you telling me that an NHL player came out to you at my concert and you didn’t bother to share this information with me?” Fabian asked, looking affronted as he slid into the chair across from him. “I’m your boyfriend! You are legally required to share stuff like this with me!”

“I didn’t think he would want me going around telling people!”

Fabian facepalmed dramatically. “Ryan, telling your significant other these kinds of things doesn’t count! This Troy guy probably expected that you’d tell me.” He sighed in exasperation. “This is just like how you didn’t tell me about Shane and Ilya until the second time you walked in on them kissing. And that was only because they wanted to go on a double date with us, so you had no choice!”

“Next time a hockey player comes out to me, I’ll text you immediately,” Ryan said dryly.

“Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

Ryan shook his head, bemused, redirecting his attention to the last few bites of cereal left in his bowl.

“So you’re just gonna leave me hanging?”

He looked back up. “Huh?”

“About Troy Barrett coming out to you. What’s the story there? I don’t think I’ve heard you mention him before. Was he a teammate of yours?”

“Oh. Yeah, he played for Toronto. He…wasn’t very nice to me back then.”

Fabian’s face dropped. “Really? Was it homophobic stuff? He mentioned in the video that he said a lot of homophobic things in the past to try to cover up that he was gay.”

“I definitely heard him say a lot of homophobic shit, but honestly, none of that was really directed at me specifically. He was just an asshole in general, you know? Made fun of my fear of flying a lot. That sort of thing.”

“That’s a bummer,” Fabian said, frowning. “I didn’t get an asshole vibe from him in the video. He seemed pretty cool.” He paused. “And really hot.”

Ryan lifted an eyebrow. “Hot people can’t be assholes?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Fabian said, rolling his eyes. “It’s just, you know, I spent most of my life assuming that all hockey players were jerks, but now, thanks to you, I’ve met guys—like Shane and Ilya—who’ve proved me wrong. So I was just hoping this guy was decent, that’s all.” He bit his lip, looking concerned. “How horrible was he?”

“Pretty horrible,” Ryan said with a sigh. “But he apologized to me, at your show in Ottawa. That’s why he came over to talk to me. He seemed sincere. Said it makes him sick thinking about how he treated me. And then he told me he was gay. I think he was just scared back then, you know? There were a lot of homophobic guys on that team.” He chuckled humorlessly. “There are a lot of homophobic guys everywhere in the NHL. So he was just doing what he thought he had to do.”

“Hmm,” Fabian murmured, fiddling unconsciously with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Well, that’s nice, right? I mean, not nice that he treated you badly, but nice that he seems to have changed?”

“It is,” Ryan agreed. “I’m glad…I’m glad he’s not scared anymore.”

“You should watch his video. He posted it on Instagram.”

Ryan had to admit that he was curious. His phone was still sitting on his nightstand in their bedroom, so he went to grab it. When he returned to the kitchen, Fabian was back at the counter, cracking eggs into a bowl. “Want any scrambled eggs, babe?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks though.” Ryan sat back down at the table, opening Instagram and pulling up troybarrett17’s account.

The video was, unsurprisingly, the most recent post on Troy’s page. The caption was simple:

This is me 🏳️‍🌈❤️🏒

Ryan’s finger hovered over the video for a moment. A part of him still couldn’t believe he was about to watch Troy Barrett’s coming out video. First, he’d called his best friend a rapist at practice, surrounded by all their teammates, and now—after years spent so deeply in the closet that Ryan was surprised he’d ever been able to find his way out—he was announcing to the world that he was gay? The kid had more guts than Ryan ever would have guessed.

He pressed play. The video began with a shot of an empty chair in what looked to be an office. Troy walked into frame and sat down. He smiled sheepishly, running his fingers through his hair, and looked over at someone out of frame. “How should I begin?”

“Just say hi,” a man replied.

Troy nodded, squaring his shoulders and sitting up straighter. “Hey, everyone. I, uh…there’s something I wanted to share with you all. Something important.” He gnawed on his lip. “God, it’s hard for me to actually say it out loud.”

The video cut to footage of Troy on the ice during several different games—a shot of him passing the puck to Ilya, a shot of him arguing with a ref, a shot of him celebrating a win with his teammates.

Troy’s narration continued over the footage. “This sport—it’s not the most open and progressive environment, to put it lightly. The first time I remember hearing the f-slur, I was probably, like, nine? There was this kid on my hockey team, he was smaller than the rest of us, not very good. He had to put up with a lot of bullying from the other kids. And a lot of it was homophobic. Already. At that age.”

A shot of Troy laughing with a little girl lying in a hospital bed. A shot of Troy, Wyatt Hayes, and several kids decorating a Christmas tree in the hallway of the children’s hospital with ornaments the kids had made. A shot of Troy and Ilya and two kids battling it out at Mario Kart in a hospital lounge.

“I went home and asked my mom what the word meant. She told me, but she said it was a bad word. That it wasn’t a word I should say. Because it would hurt people.”

The video cut back to Troy sitting in the chair. He looked sad. “But I did say the word. A lot. For years. Because everyone else was saying it.” He paused. “Well…not everyone.”

A shot of Troy and Ilya standing in front of a Christmas tree in what Ryan assumed was Ottawa’s practice facility. Ilya was wearing a Santa hat and snowman sweater. Troy was wearing an elf hat and a sweater emblazoned with Christmas lights. He was laughing as he watched Ilya try to maintain his grasp on an unruly puppy trying to wiggle out of his arms. Another shot of Troy, this time wearing his practice gear, knelt down on the floor of a locker room, rubbing the same puppy’s stomach.

“But it was a word I heard a lot. From many of my teammates over the years. From players on opposing teams. From coaches. And it wasn’t just the f-slur. There was so much homophobic language being thrown around, on the ice, in the locker room. I couldn’t escape it. So I joined in. Because I didn’t want anyone to know my secret.”

Again, the video cut back to Troy talking. He looked directly into the camera. “My secret was that I’m gay.” His voice was firm, steady. “I’ve kept this secret for years, but I don’t want to anymore. Because the guys I’m playing with now are incredible. When I was young—hell, even a few months ago— I never would have imagined that one day I’d get to stand up in the locker room of an NHL team, announce that I’m gay, kiss my boyfriend, and receive nothing but overwhelming support from my teammates in response. But the Ottawa Centaurs are built different, I guess.”

He smiled, eyes a little misty. “I love this team. I love my boyfriend. And, finally, after all these years, I love that I’m gay. I’m not ashamed anymore. I’m not scared. I know a lot of people are going to have really nasty things to say about this, but I don’t care. I’ve found my people. That’s all that matters.” He paused, smiling a bit bigger now. “And tonight is Ottawa’s Pride Night. We’re playing Toronto. Make sure you tune in and watch us kick their asses.”

“That last part wasn’t in the script,” said the same man who Troy had spoken to at the beginning of the video.

Troy laughed, looking off camera. “Sorry, Harris. Couldn’t help myself.”

Harris. Ryan recognized that name. That was the friend Troy had gone to Fabian’s concert with. He’d said he did the social media for the Centaurs, so it made sense.

The look on Troy’s face had been very fond at the end there. And Troy had said in the video that he had a boyfriend.

Hmm.

Interesting.

“It was a good video, right?” Fabian’s voice pulled Ryan from his thoughts.

Ryan looked up. Fabian was at the stove, adding shredded cheddar cheese to his eggs. “Oh. Yeah. Really good.”

Fabian turned. “It’s okay if you still don’t like him. He was awful to you. Him releasing a nice coming out video doesn’t just erase that.”

“No, it’s not that. I really don’t have a problem with him anymore. I mean, yeah, you’re right, there’s nothing that excuses his behavior back then. But I get it. I’m not angry anymore,” Ryan said, realizing how much he meant it. “He seems like he’s a really good guy. I think he probably always was, deep down. He was just stuck in some truly toxic environments with some truly toxic friends.”

Fabian dumped the contents of the skillet onto a plate, grabbed a fork, and made his way over to the table. “Seems like he’s found a much better environment and much better friends now,” he said, sitting down. “And a boyfriend,” he added, waggling his eyebrows.

“That’s actually what I was thinking about at the very end there,” Ryan admitted. “That guy who was talking off camera in the video—Troy called him Harris. That’s who he came to your show with last month. He called him a friend, but he also mentioned that he was gay too.” He shrugged. “Makes me wonder.”

Fabian looked delighted. “Ryan Price, are you gossiping with me right now?”

“Shut up!” Ryan threw his crumpled napkin across the table at him. “He just looked at him in a certain way at the end that made me think that maybe…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t speculate.”

Fabian laughed, throwing the napkin back. "All right, all right, we can drop it.”

“Thank you,” Ryan said. “Hey, um, any chance you’d care to watch a hockey game with me tonight? Troy mentioned the Pride Night game there at the end, and, I don’t know, it kind of made me want to tune in. I haven’t watched a hockey game since I retired.”

Fabian raised an eyebrow, staring at him incredulously.

“You know what? I’ll just watch it by myself.”

Chapter End Notes

The next chapter will be Ryan watching the Pride Night game. I also have an idea for a short epilogue where Ryan and Troy meet again!

Thanks for reading! Leave me a comment if you are so inclined :)

Chapter 4

Chapter Notes

February 2021 – Toronto (Later that same day)

When Ryan turned on Ottawa's Pride Night game that evening, two local LGBTQ activists who would be dropping the puck during the ceremonial face-off were being introduced. They stood on a carpet at center ice, smiling and waving as the announcer talked about the non-profit organization they had founded.

The feed cut to a few close-up crowd shots—a young boy in his dad's arms waving a pride flag; two women holding up a banner with We Love You, Troy emblazoned across it in big rainbow letters; two men with their arms around each other, one of whom was holding a sign that said Troy, will you be our third?

Ryan chuckled as the feed cut quickly back to the ice after that last one.

"At this time, we ask Ottawa Centaurs forward Troy Barrett and Toronto Guardians captain Drew Flanagan to center ice for a ceremonial puck drop."

The crowd erupted into applause as soon as the announcer said Troy's name, with many spectators jumping to their feet. Troy had clearly been chosen to represent the Centaurs for this face-off over Ilya because of his sexuality, and Ryan was one of the few people in the world who realized the irony of that. He wondered how Ilya was feeling right now, seeing this outpouring of support for Troy on a night like this. Ryan was sure he was happy for Troy, but was there a part of him that was a little jealous or resentful? Personally, Ryan was glad that he'd never made any big coming out announcement. Receiving this level of attention during a game would have been his own personal hell, but Ilya thrived under attention. He'd probably love this.

Troy seemed a little overwhelmed by it all, looking around at the sea of rainbow flags and fan-made signs as the ovation continued. He really was effortlessly good-looking, even just standing there with a slightly bewildered expression on his face ("Why are all the queer players in the NHL literally some of the hottest men on the planet? This should be studied," Fabian had remarked earlier). He covered his face with one of his big hockey-gloved hands and waved shyly with the other. The Guardians captain rolled his eyes, as if Troy wasn't someone he'd considered a friend a mere three months ago when they'd still been teammates.

The puck was dropped, the two activists shook Flanagan's hand and hugged Troy, and soon enough the actual game was underway.

Ryan was only half watching. A couple days ago, Shane had sent out a long Google Forms survey to the Game Changers coaching staff, with questions about what they had liked best about last year's camps, changes they thought should be implemented going forward, recommendations for other mental health organizations they could partner with, etc., so Ryan figured this would be as good a time as any to finally get that filled out.

The game eventually ended with the Centaurs defeating the Guardians 4-2, a feat that would have been considered nearly impossible at the start of the season. The crowd went absolutely wild, waving their pride flags and their signs plastered with Troy’s name and face. It was the perfect Hollywood ending to the game, and Ryan realized he was grinning. Sure, he lived in Toronto, and the Guardians had been the last team he'd played for, but he'd definitely been rooting for Ottawa.

He watched as Wyatt Hayes sped across the ice and crashed into Troy’s arms for a hug, both men grinning ear-to-ear.

A memory from two years prior, after a brutal loss to Montreal:

“Can you shut the fuck about that nerd shit for once, Hayes?” an irritated Troy Barrett snaps across the locker room at Wyatt and Ryan, who had been chatting about one of Wyatt’s favorite comics getting a tv show adaptation. “Nobody wants to fucking hear it.”

Ilya skated into frame, slamming into Troy and Wyatt with such enthusiasm that all three of them went toppling down onto the ice in a very happy heap.

Another memory from two years ago, this one on the ice at the end of a Toronto-Ottawa game:

Dallas Kent and Ilya are hurling insults back and forth. Troy comes to his friend’s defense: “Fuck off, Rozanov!”

Ilya redirects his attention to Troy, surveying him coolly. “Let your boyfriend fight his own battles, Barrett.”

Barrett’s face turns red under his helmet. “He’s not my fucking boyfriend,” he snarls.

Ilya lets out a short, hollow laugh. “Is too easy,” he mutters. He turns to Ryan, clapping him on the back. “See you around, Pricey!”

Ilya stood up, reaching out a hand to help haul Troy to his feet and then Wyatt. He leaned in to whisper something in Troy’s ear, pointing into the crowd at one of the signs. Troy laughed, elbowing Ilya playfully.

Wow.

Having friends who weren’t Dallas Kent and the other Toronto shitheads sure looked good on Troy Barrett.

***

Fabian was scrolling on his phone in bed when Ryan came in a little later. He glanced up. "How was the game?"

"Good," Ryan replied, figuring Fabian did not actually want to hear any details. "Ottawa won."

"I thought that was probably the case,” Fabian said. “Troy Barrett just posted on Instagram. He seemed pretty happy."

Ryan plopped down beside Fabian. "What did he post?"

Fabian tapped his screen a couple times and handed his phone over to Ryan.

Troy had posted a selfie of himself and a bearded man with dark blond hair who was kissing him on the cheek. His caption read: I am so happy right now. Thank you, Ottawa, for an amazing night, and for being the place where I met my wonderful boyfriend. I love you, Harris.

“You were right,” Fabian said. “About that Harris guy being his boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, studying the photo. “He’s not what I would have expected Troy Barrett’s boyfriend to look like.”

“Is that something you’ve thought a lot of about? Fabian asked, smirking. “Troy Barrett’s type? Because apparently he’s into dudes with beards so maybe you have a chance.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “I just mean if you’d have asked me to guess what his boyfriend looked like…I don’t know, I guess I would have thought he’d look more like Troy. Someone like Shane Hollander, if he was on the market, you know? Someone who’s also outrageously gorgeous in a conventional sort of jock way. I guess I thought that would be Troy Barrett’s type.”

“Like that ‘siblings or dating’ Instagram page?”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll show you tomorrow,” Fabian said, yawning. “Gimme back my phone.” Ryan handed it over. “Next time I see Shane I’m definitely telling him that you said he was ‘outrageously gorgeous in a conventional sort of jock way’, just so you know. Maybe I’ll mention it to Ilya as well.”

“You’re annoying,” Ryan said. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”

Fabian closed his eyes, snuggling down deeper under the covers. “Hurry back.”

“Always,” Ryan said softly.

Fabian smiled so sweetly in response that Ryan’s heart did a somersault.

Chapter End Notes

Next chapter will be the epilogue :)

Thank you to everyone for reading and leaving kudos and commenting. It’s very appreciated!

Chapter 5: Epilogue

Chapter Notes

Sorry for the wait. But here's the epilogue finally!

July 2021 - Montreal

The coaching staff of the 2021 Game Changers Hockey Camp had been instructed to arrive a day before the kids did to attend an orientation. Shane had sent out a detailed itinerary, starting with a 10am welcome meeting. Ryan was the first one to arrive in the rink’s meeting room—a dingy space containing a scuffed-up conference table that had seen better days and a bunch of mismatched chairs. Wyatt Hayes was the next to join him.

“Pricey!” he exclaimed, dropping into a chair opposite from Ryan. “I missed you, man.”

They made small talk for a couple minutes before Troy Barrett slipped through the door. Wyatt twisted around in his seat to see who'd come in. "Troy!" he said, his face lighting up. "What the hell happened to you? You look exhausted."

Troy, who had dark circles under his eyes and was clutching a very large travel coffee mug, did indeed look pretty tired. "It's early, Hazy. Give me a break," he said, pausing to greet his teammate with a fist bump.

Wyatt glanced down at his phone and then back up at Troy, eyebrow raised. “It’s 9:41, and you’re more of a morning person than anyone else I know."

"There's this spa here in Quebec that Harris and I went to in January,” Troy said, rubbing his eyes. “We figured since I was going to be in Montreal for the camp, why not come a few days early and go back to the spa. Spend some quality time together since I'll be busy the next couple weeks."

Wyatt smirked knowingly. "But if you two were at a spa, shouldn't you be well rested?"

Troy glared at him. And then, to Ryan's surprise, made his way around the table and plopped down in the chair right next to Ryan. Wyatt's smirk grew bigger. "Look, I get it. You're worn out because you've been having non-stop sex for the last few days. Say no more."

Troy threw a pen at Wyatt's head from across the table. Wyatt—talented goalie that he was—blocked it easily. Rolling his eyes, Troy turned to Ryan. "Hey," he said quietly. "How's it going?"

It didn't escape Ryan's notice how quickly Troy's demeanor had shifted. The comfortable familiarity that he shared with Wyatt had been replaced with an awkward tension that Ryan was sure they could both feel hanging in the air. Troy and Wyatt were friends now. Troy and Ryan were…not. The conversation they’d had at Fabian’s concert back in January was the last time they’d spoken.

Ryan needed to say something to break the ice—something that would let Troy know that he wasn’t holding any sort of grudge about Troy’s past behavior. “I’m good,” he said. “And hey, um, I watched your coming out video,” he added. “It was really…nice.”

Nice? Was that really the best he could come up with?

But Troy smiled. “Thanks, man. How’s Fabian doing?”

“Really good,” Ryan said. “Feels like his music gets more popular every day. Soon he’ll be too famous to want to be with me anymore.”

That last part was a joke. Mostly. After all, Ryan knew Fabian loved him. But sometimes he found himself thinking about all the guys in the audience at Fabian’s shows or the guys who’d approach him on the street to ask for a selfie or an autograph. Men who were better looking and more stylish and more outgoing than Ryan was. Men who seemed like a better fit for Fabian, both physically and personality-wise. Men who could match his energy better than Ryan ever could.

Troy was studying Ryan with an intensity that Ryan didn’t feel totally comfortable with, his blue eyes narrowed in a way that felt a little like he was seeing straight into Ryan’s soul. “I’ve had people ask me why I’m with Harris,” he said after a moment. “They think I’m, like, out of his league because I’m some rich NHL player or whatever. But, really, it’s Harris who’s out of my league. He’s the best person I know, and sometimes I still can’t believe that he saw something in me.”

Okay, so clearly Troy had been able to sense the truth lurking beneath Ryan’s joke.

“Fabian chose you for a reason,” Troy continued. “And, just so you know, I dated a super famous actor before Harris and I got together. Believe me, dating someone ‘normal’ has been a far better experience. I’m sure Fabian appreciates the stability you bring to his life while everything else around him is changing so much.”

Ryan was about to ask Troy when the hell he got so perceptive and wise, but Wyatt interrupted before he could say anything. “You dated a famous actor? Who?”

“Adrian Dela Cruz,” Troy said after a moment of hesitation. “Please don’t go to the tabloids about it.”

Wyatt’s eyes just about bugged out of his head. “No fucking way, dude. Adrian Dela Cruz? He was the star of the tv adaptation of Elemental. That’s one of my favorite comic books! What’s he like in real life?”

“He’s a pretentious, cheating dick,” Troy said bluntly.

Wyatt blinked. “Ah. Well. That’s disappointing to hear.”

Troy shrugged. “It hurt a lot at the time. Luckily I couldn’t care less anymore.”

“Wow,” Wyatt said. “I can’t believe you’ve been withholding this information from me. I would have told you if I had a famous ex.”

“But you don’t.”

“No,” Wyatt said. “But hey, my mom briefly dated Dave Grohl back in the day, so that’s something.”

“I don’t know who that is,” Troy said.

Ryan gawked at him in disbelief. "Seriously? You don’t know who Dave Grohl is? Jesus, Troy. What year were you born again?"

"1995,” Tory said, turning his gaze away from Wyatt and redirecting it back at Ryan. “Why? What year were you born?"

"1987."

"Damn, really? I never realized you were a cradle robber. Fabian's okay with dating an old man?”

And just like that, the awkwardness that had been hanging in the air between them seemed to evaporate.

"Shut the fuck up, Barrett," Ryan said, rolling his eyes. "Fabian and I were born the same year."

Troy's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Really? Are you sure? He looks so much younger than you."

"We literally went to high school together."

"At the one-room schoolhouse?"

"You've been spending too much time around Rozanov, you know that?" Ryan replied. "You sound just like him right now with these age chirps."

Troy grinned. "I'm going to take that as a compliment."

Eric Bennett was the next to arrive. Troy leaned in close to Ryan. “Speaking of actual cradle robbers…” he muttered under his breath.

Ryan stifled a laugh.

By 9:55, everyone had arrived to the meeting room except for Shane and Ilya. A harried-looking Shane rushed into the room a moment later, clutching two boxes of donuts. He looked around wildly. “Is Ilya not in here yet?”

“Haven’t seen him, boss,” Zane Boodram piped up.

“Where the fuck is he?” Shane grumbled, tossing the donuts down on the table. “Don’t eat all of these before he gets in here or I’ll never hear the end of it.” He turned on his heel and marched back out of the room, clearly on a mission to find his husband.

Eventually Ilya was located, and the meeting began. Ryan found himself zoning out a bit, as most of what Shane and Ilya were discussing was a rehash of last year—clearly more for the benefit of the new coaches than those who were returning like he was.

He zoned back in just in time to hear Ilya remark, "This is good idea, Hunter. I'm surprised you're still cognizant enough in your old age to think of things like this. Kip must have gotten the emails I sent him with links to articles about how to take care of your aging partner's brain health."

Ryan turned to Troy and raised an eyebrow. "See what I mean about you sounding like him?" he muttered under his breath.

Troy laughed.

Troy Barrett laughing with him instead of at him—if you'd told Ryan back when he was playing for Toronto that this would happen one day, he would have never believed it.

Ilya glanced up from his notes. "Troy? Ryan? Is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

Troy smiled innocently. "We were just saying how handsome you look this morning, Roz."

Ilya winked. “Thank you, Barrett. I will tell Harris you said so.”

"I have no doubt that Harris would agree," Troy replied.

“Can we get back on track please?” an exasperated Shane Hollander asked from his seat beside Ilya.

Ilya smirked at him. “Is okay to be jealous, Shane. Your husband is very sexy, and it must be very hard for you when other people notice. I would know. My husband is very sexy too.”

“Ilya!”

“Okay, okay.” Ilya’s gaze returned to his notes. “Actually, is good of you to get me back on track, moya lyubov. This next part is important.” He pointed at Troy. “Barrett, remember when you suggested that we team up with an organization that specifically focuses on the mental health of victims of sexual assault?”

Troy nodded. “Of course.”

"We found an organization called Shannon's Place that does just this. We reached out and they're very excited to partner with us. Someone from their organization will be here later today to talk to us," Ilya said. "Was very good suggestion, Troy. This is why I tell people that you are not as stupid as you look. A few weeks ago, I saw a comment on Instagram calling you a himbo. I replied, ‘No, no. Is not himbo. Is just his face that makes him look stupid. Sure, the other day he told me he thought platypus was fictional animal created by the writers of Phineas and Ferb. But he is smart in other ways.’”

Shane dropped his face into his hands.

“I told you that in confidence, Roz!" Troy exclaimed. "You weren’t supposed to tell anyone else.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Well, that was also very stupid of you, Troy. Maybe I should not have defended you against the himbo allegations.”

“Aww c’mon, Roz, leave him alone,” Wyatt spoke up. “He was smart enough to see what a catch Harris is!”

“That’s true,” Ilya said, grinning. “Can’t be too stupid if he figured that out.”

“And he was smart enough to realize that Dallas Kent is a piece of shit,” Ryan chimed in.

“Excellent example, Pricey,” Ilya said.

Troy turned to look at Ryan. He looked a bit…touched, perhaps? “Thanks, Ryan,” he murmured. “Hey, the itinerary said we’re on our own for lunch today. I was going to check out the Vietnamese place across the street. Want to join me?”

Ryan hadn’t been expecting that. “Oh, um, sure. That sounds great.”

Troy smiled at him. “Cool.”

Ryan smiled back. “Cool.”

If Ryan looked out the window right then, he wouldn't be surprised if he saw pigs flying. After all, if he could become friends with Troy Barrett, perhaps anything was possible.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks for reading! And thanks to everyone who has left kudos and comments. It's very much appreciated!