requested by @kyloren-egade

you had been drafted into the nhl to the vancouver canucks a few years prior. you were 20 years old now and still weren't quite ready to make your start, so you spent your days playing for the vancouver giants of the whl.

you were from nowhere near vancouver and barely even spoke english, so it was a struggle. you weren't ready to live on your own and you wanted to live with someone close to your age, so that's how you ended up living with elias pettersson.

to say you had a terrible day was an understatement. half of the day you were trying to prevent yourself from having a full on breakdown. you were playing terribly, you had a horrible practice that day, the media you did that morning consisted of the press grilling you about stuff you already were giving yourself a hard time for, and social media was bubbling about how the canucks were so wrong to draft you. not to mention that you were already in your head before anyone had made it worse.

you had promised teammates that you would go out to dinner with them and you weren't about to not go. you tried your best to have fun, but you just felt like you couldn't.

all you wanted to do was go home and at about 10:00 your wish was granted.

you walked into yours' and elias' apartment. it was dark. the lights were all off. you remembered that elias had a game tonight. you flipped on the lights in the hallway and slipped off your shoes. you breathed deeply as you walked down the hallway into the dark kitchen.

you changed into your pajamas and laid down in bed.

at about 10:30, you heard the apartment door open telling you that elias had come home from his game. he knew not to bother you once you were in your room. it was a privacy thing that both of you had established.

the hands on the clock made their rounds, but your eyes just wouldn't close. your mind was racing with too many things to be able to get some rest.

all you could do was stare at the things on your walls; a picture with your family from the draft, a picture with some of your vancouver giants teammates, and a picture with some of the canucks.

you let out a frustrated sigh and threw the covers off yourself and quietly exited your room. you made sure not to wake up elias, knowing he had his own busy night.

you got a glass of water and chugged it. you looked out the window at the vancouver skyline. it was beautiful. you loved living here.

you softly walked to the sliding door that lead out to the balcony. you clicked the lock and slide the door open silently. you stepped into the cold air of the vancouver night and sat down on the couch on the balcony and curled yourself up. you stared at the dark skyscrapers that are usually lit from the bottom to the top.

the night was always such a peaceful change from the bustling day.

you were caught in a trance until the door slide open. your glance shot to the door. you saw messy blond hair and knew it was elias. you relaxed again.

"can't sleep?" he mumbled tiredly.

you shook your head in response, not taking your eyes off the night sky.

"what's wrong?" elias asked as he sat down next to you.

that's when every emotion you had been feeling all day had hit you.

you bit your lip to prevent yourself from crying. you moved your glance to the floor. you took a deep breathe and a sniffle came with it.

"y/n?" he said, worry coating his tone.

you shook your head, "elias..." your voice cracked.

"are you crying y/n? what's going on?"

"elias, i've been playing like shit. the media was coming at me all of my interview today, along with social media just shitting on me. i'm all in my head which making nothing better. i fucking suck. i can't do this anymore."

you closed your eyes and tears emptied out. a sob shook your being as your body and mind collapsed in on itself. you began to cry your eyes out.

elias rubbed your back silently as you cried. he knew that you needed to cry it out before he even tried to console you.

"y/n, please don't give up. i've watched you play and every time i do, you amaze me. the media are going to be assholes and don't even look at social media. social media is horrible for us. i had to be told that a short while ago too. it's not good for confidence." elias consoled you.

"petey, maybe they're right. maybe i don't deserve to go to the nhl." you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"they aren't right y/n. you are so talented. the canucks are looking for the right time to bring you up. there has been some serious rumors floating around the locker room that you'll be up soon." elias smiled at you.

you looked up at elias timidly, "you're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"no." elias shook his head, "coach green has showed us some of your tape after our bad games to show us how we should be playing."

you perked up a bit.

"everyone has bad stretches y/n/n. you'll get over it and start tearing the ice apart again soon. i'm damn sure of it."

you finally had enough courage to meet your eyes with his, "thank you petey."

elias wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap. he trapped you in his embrace. you snuggled into his arms and put your head on his shoulder.

the cool vancouver wind blew against the two of you, but neither of you paid any mind to it.

"please come to me if you're having issues y/n. i love you too much to have you feel like this." elias mumbled in your ear.

you shot up confusedly and looked him in the eyes, "what did you just say?"

"what did i say?" elias asked.

"you said you loved me too much to have me feel this way." you repeated his previous words.

elias' eyes widened, "oh no i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to make this awkward, it just slipped out." he began to ramble.

"petey!" you knocked him out of his ramble, "you like love me love me?"

elias nodded, looking at the balcony floor.

you grabbed his chin and lifted his head so you could see his eyes. you moved your hand to sit on his cheek comfortably and kissed his lips delicately.

you smiled gently, "i love you too elias."

elias breathed out and a smile took over his face as he pulled you in for another kiss.