this is wicked long so buckle up

ROCKET

And that's what led me to be standing in a small coffee shop in Prague, five hours later. Five hours.

I forget how small Europe is sometimes.

Five hours later, a coffee in my fingers, all my shit in a rental car, finger hovering over a text.

rocket-stojanovic: hi Matyáš, i know it's been like 8 years since i've talked to you but I was wondering if you and Jan were still around home area, I'm in Prague for a little bit and I wanna say hi

It's a lie. Some of it. I made it sound like I was not really in the country to see them but I am. I'm in the country to go home and they're completely entwined with that.

I hit send by accident. My phone kinda slipped and there it went. He's active on instagram, I know that, it's got the little green dot next to his profile photo.

I don't think I follow him anymore, which, is a little heartbreaking but things happen over time.

His text bubble pops up in a few moments.

matyas1nvk: where are you in prague? I can drop by and catch up, I just got off work for the day.

rocket-stojanovic: really? awesome, I just got off the plane, I'm out in Smíchov by the river.

matyas1nvk: lucky you, I live in New Town area. I can meet you in Karlovo náměstí if you want.

rocket-stojanovic: it's been years since I've been here you'll be lucky if I don't get lost, but yeah, I can be there in 15

matyas1nvk: fantastic, and then when you get here i've got quite a long list of questions starting with how the hell did you end up in pro hockey

rocket-stojanovic: ;)

Paying for coffee is one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life.

I handed this poor woman a disgusting combination of quarters, toonies and euros, kroner, krona and the koruna I managed to get to try to pay the cents on my coffee so she didn't have to do the hard math.

"Lord I'm never going to live this down," I mutter under my breath, stuffing the change in my pocket and nodding to her, heading out with my cup of coffee.

I do get lost, but that's because my stubborn ass decides I don't need a map to cross a river, spoiler alert, I did.

I had parked the car in a garage somewhere near the coffee and decided to leave it, it was relatively within walking distance. I still stare at my phone and my google maps that's telling me that it's going to take 19 minutes and I mentally decide that I am above the internet. So, like I normally do with driving, I take 20% off that time, getting there in roughly fifteen minutes.

It's one of my bigger weaknesses as a person, cities. I adored living in Boston, it was vibrant, tied up with history and bright, Gothenburg with Håkon was similar, so was Oslo, though I don't remember much.

Regina? Uh.

I won't comment.

Prague is just like that, just like I remember, really. It's strong and it's so damn historical it makes Boston look like a preteen city, which, it is, I guess. Living a half hour outside of Prague for the greater half of my life doesn't prepare me to see it again with adult eyes. I just with I had Håkon here.

I have no idea who the hell I'm looking for. I remember Matyáš, he was short, a bit stocky, and one of the best wingmen on our youth hockey team, but I was 13 the last time I saw him in person, I can't imagine he looks the same.

I wander toward the center of the park and am just pulling out my phone again when:

"Hey, buddy, you got fucking tall." I whip around, looking for who said it. I spot him, a couple yards away, walking toward me. He's got his hands in his pockets, light collared shirt and a beard that reminds me vaguely of whatever Paxton has going on with his. He's still small and stocky, around 5'9 maybe. I might be able to deadlift him if put in a life or death situation.

Is it bad that I measure size by deadlift-ability?

"Hey, you didn't grow." I grin, responding.

"And you have an American accent."

"No, god no, why would you say that?" I laugh. "My mom says that all the damn time."

"Well she's right," he falls beside me, nodding forward and we start to walk. "So, pro hockey huh?"

I laugh. "Yeah, pro hockey."

"How the hell did you get there huh? I swear everyone back home thought you two disappeared off the face of the earth, then I turn on the T.V a couple years back and bingo, there you are, Miloš Stojanović starting for the Boston Bruins." he laughs. "I mean, I had to translate past you having your mom's name, but I was so alarmed by the whole thing."

I smile down at my shoes. "I've always wondered if you guys had discovered me or not."

"How did you go from house league here to pro there?"

I shrug. "Couldn't speak english. Hockey was the only thing I understood and the only thing I had in common with Canadian kids so I went wild with it. I got drafted to Major Juniors as a 16 year old, met my best friend, then went pro kinda randomly."

He shakes his head in disbelief. "And how did you get that nickname? Rocket? Really?"

"I'm a shit driver, but I'm fast." I take another sip of coffee. "I missed the team bus three weeks after getting my license and ended up getting in the equipment van with the staff and we beat the bus to Saginaw."

"Really?"

"Yup, a few weeks into my rookie season. Nobody knew me and there I was." I shrug. "That and nobody could read my name."

"Miloš isn't that bad, c'mon."

"The Russian kids knew how to say it but frankly they scared the shit out of me."

"What's all that even like?"

I shrug. "Overwhelming a lot of the time and I'm absolutely engulfed in attractive people and that's whew but it's fun. It's a dream."

"I can imagine." He pulls in a long breath. "Okay, so, it's lovely that you're back and all and all that but I have one burning question."

"Yeah?" I take another sip of coffee, trying to shorten my stride to match his so I don't speed off.

"Why did you leave in the first place?"

I pause, pulling the container away from my lips. "You never found out?"

"No, 'course not, your dad like..." he pulls in a breath. "Your dad like shut off completely after the whole thing, Jan had to take in Rey-" he coughs. "Roman, for about a year because he couldn't handle anything. We almost put him in a psych unit. Probably should have. The poor guy never ate anything, worst depression spiral I've ever seen."

I clear my throat. "What?"

"It took him three years to start functioning like a normal person again, I mean, it like, it was this whole mess, the whole town had to step up to keep him from going off the deep end. We had kinda assumed something was happening behind our backs with you and your mom or whatever, but we don't know."

I stop walking, looking absently up at the building in front of us, not really knowing what the hell to say to that. I look over at him, making eye contact, something I normally am not a fan of unless it's Håkon. "He disowned me. Mom and I never did anything to him."

"Why the hell would he disown you?" Matyáš is lost, clearly.

"Because I'm gay." I say, fully prepared to walk away from this if he says something stupid.

"That makes no fucking sense," he eventually says. "That makes no fucking sense."

"What? Me being gay? I have a boyfriend as we speak, big 'ol Swedish guy. He's not here but I can literally show you photos. I've been devastatingly queer since the second I saw the sunlight." Technically I'm probably bisexual but that doesn't really need to be mentioned. I have a point to get across.

"But, that's-" he runs his hands through his hair. "That's not possible. He wouldn't have kicked you out because you're into guys that's-"

"My last name is Stojanovič, Mat, not his. He disowned me because I had a question about sexual arousal in the boys locker room as a thirteen year old."

Matyáš shakes his head. "No, no it's not possible, it's not reasonable. There's no physical way he would have kicked you out for that and then have- ugh- and then there's all the little, god, no," he starts off in one direction. "Do you have means of transportation?"

I frown. "What the hell are you going on about?"

"Milo I-" he shakes his head. "Where are you staying?"

"As of right now, nowhere. My stuff's in a rental car back on the other side of the river. I kinda didn't have a plan."

He pinches between his eyebrows. "Okay, a lotta stuff isn't making sense right now and there's just things that don't make sense unless your father truly truly deeply hated you and wanted nothing but you to be gone." Matyáš was always an urgent person but never really like this.

"Ah?"

"You'll, god, you'll, I'll deal with it later, it's-" he pinches his nose harder. "Let me pack a bag, I live over on that street." He points. "Get that car and then we're going to Říčany."

I frown. "You sure you don't need a minute to breathe?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, I'll... I'll call Jan and Rey, but, there's things you need to know."

"So why aren't you telling me them?'

"Not my spot." He points over to his road. "You, car, go go go, shoo."

I raise my eyebrows. "Alright, then, I'll be back in a half hour, then you better do a damn good job of explaining why my raging homophobe of a father disowning me is so unbelievable."

He just shakes his head, then waves me off.

I head back toward the bridge, calling Håkon for some peace of mind.

"Hi," he picks up. "I miss you. How's Prague?"

"Weird," I respond. "And I miss you too. But weird. I somehow managed to contact Matyáš over instagram and we met up, he lives here now, I didn't realize how old 23 actually is but apparently I'd be in the workforce by now if I was on that path. Whatever, anyway, met up with him. We talked for like two minutes before he started getting all weird and confused about why my dad would disown me, but, whatever and the next. Now I think I'm heading back to Říčany, sooner than expected, but I didn't really have a plan."

Håkon stays quiet for a second. "Why would it be so unbelievable that your dad disowned you? Isn't he like the community renowned homophobe? You know, village idiot?"

I shrug on my end, "yeah. That's what I knew of him."

"But... if..." Håkon clears his throat. "Just stay safe, okay, and call me if you need anything, I can get there in like six hours if something goes wrong."

"I know." I laugh. "Europe is so fucking small, I forgot how tiny it is."

"You get desensitized to how vast the US is and then you come back and realize that missing an exit on the way home from work could land you squarely in another country down there." He clears his throat. "Also you left your old Bruins hoodie here."

I shake my head, walking over the bridge on the way back to the other side of things. "That was on purpose."

"But-"

"Mr I can't sleep in anything that isn't Milo's."

"Hey! I can sleep without a shirt on."

I shake my head. "And that's not clothing."

"Okay, fine," he lets out a little laugh and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Fine maybe I can't."

I smile, finishing off my coffee. "Don't worry, I've got your Swedish National Team shirt folded nicely in my luggage as we speak. Also you should check the pocket of that hoodie."

"Rocket," he mumbles, laughing. "What am I about to find?"

"Mhmm, nothing."

I hear him shuffle around on the other side of the line as I approach the spot where I parked, a block or two down from the coffee shop.

"It's a note? That's so sweet you left me a love note." He's trying to pick on me but I can hear the swoon in the back of his voice. "Håkon, while I may be spending the next little bit back home, I assure you that every moment where my full energy is not being taken up by my current predicament I'll be daydreaming about the way you ga-" he pauses, getting quiet. "You're hornier than a thirteen year old, Milo, I swear."

"You're flustered, I can hear it." I respond.

"I am." He mutters. "Not on my own choice, you're the one that reminded me how you looked-"

"I am in public."

"That doesn't sound like my problem," he lets out a sly little giggle.

"Rex, you're a menace," I root around my pockets for the keys to this damn car and eventually find them in my front pocket. "I hate driving automatic cars."

"Why is that?"

I shrug, though he can't see it. "I just don't. I don't trust them."

"But... it's like so much easier."

"But I don't trust it to do what it needs to. I feel a lot safer when I can control more of the car."

Håkon pulls in a breath. "You're a quirky one, goalie, always will be."

I ignite the engine. "You love me."

"I do." I can hear his smile. 

"Mhmm," I mumble, focusing on backing up. "I've been made fun of three times so far for having an American accent, thought you should know."

"Really now?" He lets out a little laugh. "Same thing happens to me my first week and a half or so back, though I expect it's gonna be worse for you since it's been ten years."

I put the car into drive, cringing at the lack of clutch. "God I miss my S10." I mutter, then: "yeah, I assume my accent is garbage. The nice old lady at the coffee shop asked how I came to want to learn Czech and I joked with her before telling her I'd just been away for a long time, that I'm actually from here, and then Matyáš pointed it out a sentence in. My mom does it too."

He hums in acknowledgement of what I said before coming up with a response. "Though, you do speak it at home, so, I assume that's some practice."

"Nah," I respond. "It's not that. I scrapped as much of my accent as I could as a kid in a Canadian high school, they couldn't understand me through it and I got made fun of. It just wasn't worth it to keep it so I changed the tonal center of my voice. Like yours is in your throat, all wide and deep and sexy, and mine is just flat and very American."

He lets out a soft laugh. "Still can't believe that you find my accent attractive, but, I'm sure once you're there long enough it'll dust it off. Day to day Swedish is hard to get back to after a year out there being one of two Swedes, just me and Backie, though I don't like him, but you just gotta be submerged in it again."

"I guess,"

"I did get grilled more this year for it, though, spending all my time with a very endearing guy I can only converse with in English has taken my literacy up a notch." He gives me a little laugh as I pull onto the street and then immediately onto the bridge I had crossed moments earlier.

"Well, I'm glad I made your ass smarter," I chuckle. "If you were here and not in Sweden I might give that ass a little loving pat but unfortunately you're in another country." I wiggle my way across the square to the far side, then down to his road. "Okay, we're actually picking Matyáš up, I'm keeping you on the line if you want but, he's actually-" I squint. "He's just hopping out of his apartment building. Baby, I forget how tall we are."

"I do too," he chuckles. "It's not often that I forget I'm huge, I hate walking into a room and being the center of attention by default, but, when I'm with you, it doesn't matter."

"Mhmm, a vote of confidence," I respond. "Fucking gotta parallel park."

"Glad I'm in Sweden so I don't even have to see it."

"Zip it, drahý."

"You love me," he uses my line.

"I do," I respond. "Like nothing else. Now stop being sappy and gay with me and-" I lean over and pop the door open. "Hey,"

"Hey," Matyáš sits down next to me.

"Håkon say hi, this is Matyáš." I nod at my new passenger. "Matyáš, this is my boyfriend, Håkon."

Matyáš frowns. "Håkon like... Rex?"

"Yeah, Håkon like Rex." Håk laughs on the other side. "It's a long story."

He frowns, looking at me. "Do tell."

"Uh," I smile. "Håk, you wanna take this?"

"Your dear childhood friend had the audacity to seduce me." Håkon's laugh rolls out. "Incredibly rude of him but also incredibly effective."

"Really now," Matyáš lets out a nervous little laugh.

"Alright, now," my foot waves around by where the damn clutch should be. "Get me the hell out of this city."

"Right, right," he lifts his hand to point and then fires off a quick couple instructions in Czech at me and I respond, fully aware Håkon is simply just vibing in the cupholder.

After Matyáš and I go silent, he pipes up. "Ya know, Rocket, I may not know Czech but maybe he is right that you do have an accent."

"Zip it, Rexy, I'll fill your twigs with water and freeze 'em the second I'm back in Regina."

"Oooh I'm so afraid." He mocks, then starts laughing. "I'll put water in your helmet."

"Gloves." I respond, helmet is fine, it makes my head cold. I do that voluntarily.

"You wouldn't."

"I would." I tap my head back against the headrest. "Is it really that bad that you can hear it?"

"No," he laughs. "I was fucking with you. I have no idea what the hell Czech is supposed to sound like. I'm sure Helen could give me lessons but I don't think my mouth could make those sounds."

I look at Matyáš to check to see how he's doing and he's just peacefully listening in. "it's not that bad, right, Mat?"

"It's..." he sighs, then can't help but break a smile. "I mean, yeah, you have an American accent, you can definitely hear it, but..."

"But what?"

"I mean, the last time I heard you talk was before your voice dropped, so I can't tell if it's just a different tone in you or your accent."

"Oh please do not remind me," I laugh, "prepubescent Milo. Disgusting."

"Do tell," Håkon pipes up. "I'd love to know."

"Håkon," I chide. "I'll ask Isa for your baby photos."

"Do you two threaten each other this much normally?" Matyáš asks. "Is this flirting?"

"Yes." Håkon responds for me.

"Absolutely," I laugh. "At least we're not still awkwardly discussing queer modern media in the back of the roadie plane trying not to out ourselves to each other."

Matyáš lets out a laugh. "You're telling me you discussed gay media without figuring it out about each other?"

"Oh, totally," Håkon responds. "We had a heated discussion of Twist and Shout and Call Me By Your Name."

"Oh, actually, I gotta ask you two about this because I don't really interact with gay men often, was that movie oddly..." he fades, coming up with an answer.

"Pervy?" I offer.

"Creepy?" Håkon tries. "Romantic but unsettling?"

He nods. "Yeah, just, just weird. I mean, it was pretty cinematography but it..."

"Gay people made for straight people. More specifically, gay men made for straight women." Håkon finishes. "Like Love, Simon. Don't get me wrong, I love that fluffy shit, but... c'mon."

"Right, yeah," Matyáš nods. "I knew I wasn't the only one that was weirdly put off by it."

"Mhmm," I respond. "So, anyway, back to whatever you're pulling on me."

"I'm not the one that should be explaining it to you." He sighs.