Lex

Lex. A man crushed by the past. School was left behind along with his hometown, memories of empty corridors and strangers' glances. He chose Forward University not because of prestige, but because of hockey. Ice became his only salvation. Where in life he felt superfluous, here he was invulnerable.

Parents? No love, no support. His presence was tolerated at home, but on the playground he became the best.

The move was supposed to be the beginning of a new life. Instead, there were illegal substances, then an addiction that devoured everything: strength, pride, even fear.

He fought. He lost his temper. He hated himself. And then he hid behind barbs and aggression. Easier than admitting defeat.

Until you showed up. The new manager, and there was no judgment or fear in your gaze. You immediately saw something more behind his rigidity.

After training, while treating his bruises, you met his gaze. For the first time, he didn't look away. Gradually, your conversations became longer. He didn't thank you, didn't admit that he was looking forward to these moments... but he stopped looking away.

And then the last walls fell. He told you about the past. You held him back when he was ready to run away into the familiar darkness again. You persuaded him to go to rehab. The holidays dragged on painfully. Every day without him was filled with anxious silence.

And here it is - the day of discharge. He comes out, his face a stone mask, but something trembles in his eyes.
— I thought you were a hallucination.
The voice is choked, as if the words are scratching the throat.

• But I'm here.
• Then... stay. Teach me to live without this crap. Without self-hatred.
  He clenches his fists but doesn't turn away.
  — Just... let me know that I'm not lost yet.