12: Twist and Shout

ROCKET

The plane is dark. Redeye style. Tampa to Regina, no stops. I should be sleeping but I just can't, I'm fidgety. It feels like my muscles are itchy but I know it's just the RLS from my ADHD. I'm shifting my legs as often as I feel is socially acceptable, but I have an un-killable urge to get up and walk up and down the aisle to get them to stop feeling as restless. If I don't move for too long, my thighs start twitching and pulling involuntarily.

I know if I don't manage to fix this or distract myself, I'm going to have a fit. I don't want to end up getting really bad on a plane. My brain is telling me to go go go go go go go go go but I'm stuck buckled into a seat with an entire dark plane full of people that DEFINITELY don't need me walking up and down the aisles and moving around because I'm struggling to keep myself still.

I definitely don't want to have a fit. It starts with the twitching and then I get a couple of specific tics, my shoulders jump, my face starts to twitch, eventually, if I can't get up and drain the pent up energy, I have to start talking to myself like I'm crazy. It starts to feel like I'm going to explode and I need to vent off some of the pressure somehow.

Fuck it.

I unclip and stand up, putting my hands on my head and starting a short walk to the back of the plane, stepping over stray legs here and there from people that are definitely asleep and don't need me stepping on them. I pace back toward the front of the plane, taking deep and slow breaths, trying to get that feeling of go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go to stop. It's working, somewhat, as I pace back to the front for a third time.

Then the other part of the ADHD kicks in and I stop paying attention, which leads me to accidentally kicking Jorgen's leg.

One of his eyes flies open, staring up at me.

"Sorry," I keep my voice as low as I can. "ADHD." .

He nods, closing his eye again. "Yeah, your involuntary motion was bad today."

Does he fucking catalog everything? Jeez, dude. Next thing I know he's going to be keeping track of all of our blood oxygen levels.

Plus, I don't really have noticeable involuntary motions like Jorgen says. Mom divides them into 'tics' and 'stims.' She's got a Czech Psychology degree that has a certificate that doesn't transfer to Canada, but I trust her on this kinda stuff. She's the one that finally, after literal years of it being ignored by school teachers and the people that normally catch it, brought me in to the doctors to get diagnosed with ADHD, though I'm fairly certain it was obvious to most people who knew me at the time. From what she's told me about all of it, I've got it bad. I developed tics and more stims than a normal person. I don't tic a lot, only when I'm absolutely exhausted or ridiculously overwhelmed, sometimes if I get drunk too; it was worse when I was little, but I still get a head-jerk and a nose-scrunch and an eye twitch when I'm in those kind of situations.

On the other hand, the stimming is something that most people, if not all, have. Everyone I've met fidgets when they're nervous or wiggles a little when they're excited. I just get it more often. I'll put my hands in my hair or rub my opposite shoulder, sometimes I'll rub my fingers together like some sort of hand-grasshopper and then there's the leg shaking and regular hand fidgeting. When I was little I developed a couple slightly self-destructive stims, biting the insides of my cheeks until I forced myself to stop because I was wearing away the skin to blood, and picking at the skin on my thumbs being another one. As I got older I learned to redirect those into less damaging things. Suppressing the itch to stim can get incredibly uncomfortable, that's where people start to call it fake. If I can voluntarily force myself to stop shaking my leg or rubbing my fingers down the outside seam of my pants, according to people that don't get urges like that, it means I'm just making it up. The problem, however, is that if I force myself to stop, I get uncomfortable and feel all gross and restless. Yes, I can stop, but it kinda sucks.

And then I get other types of restless and gross, RLS, for example. Restless legs syndrome. Sounds fake and 99% of the time you don't need to go to a doctor to diagnose it or whatever. 1 in 10 people have it and it's insanely common for people with ADHD. It happens during the evening and at night. It feels like my actual muscles are itchy, but I know that I can't stretch or scratch to get it to go away, all I can do is move them around. Again, just like the stimming, suppressing the urge to move around makes it way worse.

Which is why I'm on lap 16 of the plane aisle, rubbing my hands through my hair and tapping my tongue against the backs of my teeth.

Everyone else is completely asleep. Including Yeti, which is a new thing. His head is back against the headrest, mouth closed. He looks relaxed, more so than normal, every time I pass him I keep my eyes on him for an extra second or two, enjoying the way the moonlight from outside the plane window is making his white hair glow.

I walk to the front again, spinning on my heel and walking back.

"Rocket?" I hear a very familiar low Swedish tone that makes my insides leap into my throat with excitement even though I know this crush is a very very bad idea.

"Yeah?" I stop at our seat, looking over at him.

"What are you doing?" He blinks at me a couple times, his voice is deeper and growly due to being asleep for the last three hours.

"Pacing."

"Why?" He's rubbing his eyes, shifting and leaning forward to stretch a little.

"ADHD." I sigh, hoping he gets what I mean by it.

He nods, looking around for a second. "How long have you been up? And how long have you been pacing? Your hair is a wreck." He fires the three statements at me in quick order, sounding like a worried mother. It's a change.

"I never went to sleep, and I've been pacing for a half hour." I say, my voice as quiet as I can make it.

"Do you think you can sit? We can watch something or play a game if you want."

I take a deep breath, looking around. We still have two and a half hours in this hell-tank and I'm physically exhausted but mentally hyped up.

"Yeah, I might be able to sit." At this, I flop back into my seat, my legs are still gross and restless but if I kick my shoes off and rub my feet together like I normally do to fall asleep, it should be alright.

So I lean down and untie my trusty converse, pushing them under my seat the second they're off.

He hasn't said anything so I speak up again. "Want to watch a movie or something?" I ask, pulling out my phone. "I didn't have anything saved for today, but I can rewatch something?"

"Sure, because I saved a book and I don't think you can read Swedish." He gives a rather shy smile, a teensy quirk in his lip.

"No, definitely can't read Swedish." I hand him one of my earbuds and we lean together, shoulders touching. "Have you seen The Office?"

"More than once."

"It's the only thing I have saved."

"I didn't say I wouldn't want to watch it all over again," he raises his eyebrows at me.

"That's the spirit." I lean on my elbow and pull up the very first episode and we get to it. About halfway through one episode, we have to pause it and reshuffle our position, moving the armrest up and getting closer. I end up sharing the blanket I brought with him so it's spread across both of our laps. He pulls down both tray tables and uses a couple of pencils and a rubber band that was in his jacket to make an impromptu phone stand. So far, rubbing my feet together and keeping one hand busy rubbing the seam on my sweatpants is seeming to work.

Then, out of nowhere, he produces a bag of trail mix.

"And you didn't share that before?" I look at him.

He waves his hands a little. "No? The whole team would've wanted some."

"Okay, fair point, but come on, man." Our hands brush on the way to the bag and we both pull back, then go for it again. It becomes an awkward fist-bump and hand-hold maneuver that makes us both red in the cheeks.

His blush is splotchy, mostly just because he's incredibly pale already, but it colors his cheeks and his nose, then by his jaw and all over his ears. It's mind-boggling.

Then we settle in, one episode quickly becomes four and us sitting awkwardly spaced becomes my head gently leant against his. It's fine, a little weird, nobody else would do this to me, but it feels good.

We're also having a hard time keeping down the laughter. The Office was probably a bad idea, considering it's three am and everyone else is asleep. It's weirdly intimate, in a way, both of us tucked up under a blanket together, watching the office while the rest of the plane is passed out.

His eyes flicker over to me after another episode, "every once in a while I think they should make one of these for a sports team."

I raise an eyebrow, pulling my head off his to look at him, "how would you frame it?"

His blue eyes flicker over mine, one of the first times I think he's ever made eye contact with me, "the coaches have no idea what they're doing, maybe there's one person on the team that sleeps around too much, maybe there's an older guy who's the 'my wife' stereotype and maybe there's like... I'm not sure."

I tease my tongue against the corner of my smile, "maybe one is a big Swedish dickwad and one is a funny and obviously amazing Czech goaltender." I tease, hoping he takes the bait.

"I am not a dickwad," he grumps, a frown pulling down his eyebrows.

"Big... hm," I try to come up with a good adjective. "Brooding? is that better?"

"I think you're looking for quiet."

"Yeah, but quiet in, like, a tortured soul, victorian-era-english-royal-told-to-go-to-the-sea-for-their-health type of way."

He frowns, "I really cannot figure out how you work."

"Like a human, I've got blood and then the blood and-"

"What the fuck is going on over there?" I realize the soft snoring stopped, Steph is staring at the two of us. "Seriously, what are you doing?"

"Nothing, go back to sleep." I say, waving it off. "shhh, I swear it's nothing."

He frowns, but tucks back up again, falling back asleep in moments.

Yeti catches my eye and we sit there for another second before I have to turn away again, hiding a laugh.

"We should probably read that Swedish book, you know, keep down the noise," I mumble at him.

"That's probably not a good idea." He snorts, "I'd have to translate it to you."

"It can't be that bad, you know, just the weird O's."

He raises his eyebrows.

I continue. "What's it even about?"

"It's like, you know Call Me By Your Name?"

"Yeah, I've watched it, haven't read it."

"It's that, but older and Swedish based."

I nod at this, "I didn't like Call Me By Your Name."

"Me neither," he responds. "Something felt wrong."

"I think it was the age difference." I settle back into the seat. "You know, something just felt off about that whole aspect of the story, the kid was basically a teenager."

"It just felt funky, you know, like it was done beautifully, the cinematography or whatever, but I just didn't like the relationship."

"Plus," I run my thumbnail down the seam in my pants again. "My mom and I went to see it in theaters together." We went because we make an event of going to see every Big Gay Production that comes out. So far, I've seen Love, Simon and Call Me By Your Name with her. Not much else.

His mouth drops open, "you did that with your mother?"

"Yeah, it was that bad," I chuckle, desperately trying to purge the peach scene from my mind.

He's still gaping at me, "oh, I can't imagine..."

I nod, then change the subject, desperate to forget I even brought that up, "so what's the book about? Like, the story."

"Dunno, haven't read it," he gives me a tiny quirk in his lips that I read as a smile. "According to reviews it's like this 1960s based story with two guys in Gothenburg, you know, back when being gay was illegal, though Sweden was one of the first countries to see it as acceptable, back in 1987 with a cohabitation law set thing, I dunno. So it's two guys in Gothenburg that spend the whole story-"

I interrupt him, "does it have to do with Vietnam in any way?"

He frowns, "no, Sweden wasn't involved in Vietnam, why?"

"This is giving me Twist and Shout vibes."

That makes his eyebrows go up, "you've read that?"

"Most of it."

"Yikes," he puffs out his cheeks. "I almost did but I stopped early on."

"You read it too?" I sit up. "No way."

"Yeah, but again, like, not much."

"I dunno, I just, I've never met anyone out in the hockey scene that was also involved in the Ao3 part of things too. I thought I was the only ex-scene kid out here."

That gets a little laugh out of him, "my parents wouldn't let me get anywhere near scene kid even if I had wanted to."

"My mom wouldn't either, so I just had to act like it. Twist and Shout was one of the first books I could read in English."

"Jeez, and it's on the harder side of material too, wow."

"Not fun, did a lot of translating," I give him a grin. "So tell me more about this Swedish edition."

"So it's based around the time of the Stonewall riots and the reverb they had in other parts of the world, it's all supposed to be really good, but again, I haven't started it, a friend recommended it to me. I've yet to start it, it's been a couple months."

"A friend?" I poke at him with that and he shrugs, closing off a tiny bit.

"Just a friend. We don't talk much now that I'm in-season."

"That sucks, you should reach out to them."

He looks like that's the worst idea I've ever had and picks up his head, "um, no."

"But if they're your friend?"

Yeti shakes his head, "not like that."

"Oh, oh." I break into a grin.

He doesn't appear to understand and I get closer.

"You coulda told me you had an offseason fuck buddy who gives you book recommendations, that would've been a fun way to explain that," I smile, almost nose to nose with him. "So what are they like, do they wake you up reading you shit? Does that turn you on, oh my god are you attracted to smart peo-" he slaps a warm hand over my mouth.

"I'm attracted to you shutting the fuck up," he growls, trying to keep quiet. I hope my evil grin is shining in my eyes because he can't see it on my mouth. I lick his palm and he doesn't blink. I do it again, long and slow and wet. "You act thirteen."

"I was way more serious at thirteen," I mumble into his hand. "I'm making up for it."

"Can you not make up for it on my hand?" He pulls his fingers away, wiping them on his shorts. "Fynn Karlsson isn't a fuck buddy and we don't talk anymore because we're no longer friends, explain enough?"

My mouth goes dry, "yeah, I, um, sorry, I guess."

"It's fine," he sighs. "I just don't really want to read it but also do at the same time? You know."

"Like spite, but like not really, because it's their thing but also you want to read it?"

"Yeah, exactly that."

"Well, keep me updated then," I pull the blanket back up over my legs. "Sounds like it's less traumatizing than Twist and Shout."

"I didn't even watch Supernatural, I just read it because someone told me to."

"Hey, man, Ao3 is just like that sometimes."

He lets out a soft snort, "I signed off a couple of years ago when I came across something written about me, I ducked out quickly after that."

I tauntingly pull out my phone, opening it up, "about you, you say?"

"No, no no no no," he smacks my hand. "Don't even think about it."

"Why, was it bad?"

"Very," he snorts, "I never wanted to think about it again, but here you are, bringing it up."

"You were the one that brought it up, big man, now I'm going to read it-"

He stifles a laugh, "unless you want to read about me getting absolutely railed by Finnie I would suggest against it."

My jaw drops, "it was one of those?"

"Yes," he's still trying to smack my phone out of my hand. "Full detail and everything."

"Oh my fucking god, and you read it front to back? Holy shit."

"Not front to back, jeez, what am I? Crazy? No, I read it until the clothing wasn't involved and then I came fifteen feet from jumping into the pits of hell."

"Finnican?" I look around to the back of the plane. "And how did you know you were the bottom if you didn't read the whole thing, huh?"

"That's where it was going."

"But it could've had a power switch in the middle, you never know."

He shakes his head no, "not, no, not even close. I was tied up."

"I dunno, I guess it fits," I squint at him. "I can see you as a bottom."

He makes a fake gagging noise, keeping his voice down. "No, god no. That is something I am not."

"Aw come on, someone out there thought you had enough bottom energy to warrant getting topped, so there's that."

"No, ew, plus, I fight too much to be a bottom."

My eyebrows go up at this, "maybe that's why though."

That gets a little splutter out of him. "Reverse psychology?"

"So you're saying that said Ao3 writer is wrong and that you're a top?" I squint at him. "Dunno, sounds pretty gay of you to deny being a bottom not deny being gay."

"I'm not, in the first place, but for real, do I really come off with bottom energy?"

"Uh, maybe to some people, why are you so concerned about rubbing off as a top?"

He flushes red but gives me a cocky little smirk. "Dunno, the ladies seem to like it." ope, shit.

"Nah, I guess, but they don't particularly like it when guys are into guys."

"Okay, okay, lay off," he snorts. "But the point is, don't ever look yourself up."

"I gotta have something interesting, you know I've got to have something interesting." I open up google on my phone, connecting to the plane's Wi-Fi.

"Don't-"

"I'm like, super niche in hockey too, like, I'm a collector's item fanfic because I'm not important."

I open up Ao3 on google and then search my name. Stuff comes right up.

"Check it out." I pass him the phone. "Me and Steph, right here at the top."

He frowns. "I wouldn't open that considering the tags on that thing. It's not quite Dead Dove, but it seems close."

"We're doing it."

"No, no no no no."

"It can't be that bad, right?" I open it and scroll a little to the middle. "Nevermind."

"What does it say?"

I raise my eyebrows at it. "First off, he's tied up, second off, this is impressively in character."

"What?"

"Tied up," I read a little further. "Interesting progression..."

"What's going on now?" He asks after a couple of minutes. I'm horrified but it's like watching a car crash, I can't look away.

"Oh, a, a lot of shit, here," I hand it to him and he squints down at the screen, then reads.

His eyebrows raise and keep going up, disappearing into his white hair. It's always a little messy, but it's short and well maintained. He looks over at me. "Didn't know you were into that."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, just a corruption kink." He frowns and keeps reading.

"No way," I peek over his shoulder and read with him, both of us having to read excruciatingly slowly because I'm shit at reading English and so is he.

"Ohhh, gross." He mumbles. I hit that line a second after him.

"I'm never going to look Steph in the eyes again," I respond, sticking out my tongue. "Poor guy, that probably hurt."

"Are you suggesting that you could physically pull that off? I'm not so sure." He pokes me in the stomach. Then he reads softly out loud. "Miloš, with abs of steel-" His eyes drift to my stomach. "yeah, I don't think so."

"Shut up, Captain Sweden," I grumble. "If I don't eat or drink I swear I have more than one."

He chuckles at this. "Okay then."

We go back to reading, slow as hell, each of us deciphering each word as we go. I'm a little quicker because I went to English high school, but I'm still not quick.

"Oh my god," he whispers, horrified. "I also could've sworn that Steph's had more sex than this."

I look over at my sleeping teammate. "Yeah, a lot."

"Then why the hell are you the one with the corruption thing."

"Dunno, Steph's just the innocent lookin' one," I respond, "but there's no way in hell he could be in his first year in Boston without having had sex already, I remember him in the OHL."

Yeti snorts at this. "What a wheel, huh?"

"What a wheel."

We go back to reading, horrified, but not looking away. That is until he gets his seat kicked and Nico leans over the top.

"You two are loud as hell at two in the morning," she yawns. "And stop reading smut fics about yourselves, that's fucking stupid."

"His idea." I point at Yeti. He points back.

"He was the one that pulled it up."

"He was the one that mentioned it."

"He was the one that insisted."

Nico waves her hand at us. "Just keep it the hell down, I'm trying to sleep."

I yawn, looking back at Yeti and raising my eyebrows.

Then my eye twitches. Once... again. It scrunches up four times before stopping. Alright, so maybe I am that exhausted.

He's frowning at me. "Something in your eye?"

I shake my head, then feel my eye scrunch again. "Just a tic."

"You have tics?" He seems only curious, not anything else, just curious.

I yawn again, settling down in my seat. "Yeah, when I get tired, or certain types of drunk, or stressed."

He takes it in for a second. "Anything I can do?"

I shrug, then feel my nose scrunch up once. Then again. "No, not really, but I gotta sleep, if that's okay?"

"Yeah, of course." He mumbles.

So I try my damn hardest to get my brain to shut off finally.

***

I know I'm out of my depth, but I just float in it

I try to do my best, stop picking fights with it

lavender bones - stand atlantic

***

kay hi, hello, how's it going, this is late, i have the SAT in 5 days