Somedays I look
I look at you with eyes that shine
Somedays I don't
I don't believe that you are mine
It's no good asking me what time of day it is,
Who won the match or scored the goal
Somedays I look
Somedays I look into your soul
Sometimes I laugh
I laugh to think how young we were.
Sometimes it's hard
It's hard to know which way to turn
Don't ask me where I found that picture on the wall
How much it cost or what it's worth
Sometimes I laugh
I laugh to think how young we were
We don't need anybody else
To tell us what is real
Inside each one of us is love
And we know how it feels
Somedays I cry,
I cry for those who live in fear
Somedays I don't
I don't remember why I'm here
No use reminding me, it's just the way it is
Who ran the race or came in first
Somedays I cry,
I cry for those who fear the worst
We don't need anybody else
To tell us what is real
Inside each one of us is love
And we know how it feels
Somedays I look,
I look at you with eyes that shine
Somedays I don't
I don't believe that you are mine
It's no good asking me what time of day it is,
Who won the match or scored the goal
Somedays I look
Somedays I look into your soul
~Paul McCartney, "Somedays"

===

We sat in bed together, you were resting your head on my shoulder, and I was running my fingers through your hair.

"Fishy," you asked, as you held my hand.

"Yeah?" I responded, smoothing your dark hair with my shaking, unworthy fingers.

"How did you and Sean start seeing each other?" you asked, softly, your voice sounding small and far away to my ears.

I smiled to myself. Ah, sweet jealousy. I cleared my throat. "Sean and I started going together when we were in Cincinnati," I explained. "He was the only other gay guy on the Ducks and naturally, we were drawn together."

"Does it change things now that he is on team too?" you asked, resting your chin on my arm.

I rubbed my hand through your hair again, affectionately. "No, I didn't love Sean, Max."

"You love me?" you asked, hope springing eternal in your murky black eyes.

I smiled. "Yeah, of course I do."

"What if Sean wanted you back," you asked, cautiously. "Would you go to him?"

I shook my head, firmly. "We decided long time ago that we would never work out," I replied. "And I'm sticking by my decision. If he wanted me back, I'd just tell him that I found someone else."

Your eyes lightened up and you craned your neck, kissing my cheek. "I love you, Fishy."

I smiled. "I love you too, Maxie."

===

"Sean's been sent to Cincinatti," I said the next morning, handing you the newspaper.

"Really?" You asked, seeming surprised. "He played well when he was with us... Why they send him back?"

"Because Freddie O. was ready to come back to defense and Sergei had to go back to being center," I explaind, handing you a bowl of Wheaties. "Eat up, Maxie, wouldn't want you to...get starving or something."

You sat down at my kitchen table, bare chested and barefoot, and smiled. "You pamper me, no?"

"I do," I admitted, cheeks reddening, "but only because I love you."

You reached out, tousling my hair and smiling. "I love you too, Fishy." You coughed, clearing your throat. "Já amor Fishy."

I grinned. "You learned Czech just for me?"

You nodded, eyes twinkling. "So I be able to tell you I love you in three languages, Fishy. Russian, English and Czech."

I smiled. "Well, I can do you one better... I can say 'I love you' in French."

You raised an eyebrow, seemingly impressed. "You learn French?"

"When I plays for the QMJHL," I explained, with a smile. "Je aimer vous."

You nodded, your lips curling into a slight, crooked smile. "Ya lublu vas."

I smiled, nodding. "Ya lublu vas, Maxim."

You reached across the kitchen table and covered my hand with your own. "I love you, Fishy. In every language, I love you."

***

So perfect, we were so perfect back then. You and I.

We fit well together, we belonged together.

Or so it would seem...

How could something going this well not last? How could it end?

It isn't fair.

It just isn't fair.

Part 4 | Part 6