Chapter Text
The first person to notice the pin was Shane.
Not because it was particularly eye-catching, and not because he spent an unusual amount of time staring at Luca’s belongings. In fact, he almost missed it entirely.
The morning had already started badly. Ottawa’s practice facility was busier than usual, with equipment staff moving between rooms, coaches preparing for video review, and players drifting into the dressing room carrying coffees and half-finished conversations. Shane had arrived early out of habit, hoping to get a workout in before the rest of the team appeared. It was a routine he had maintained for years, one of the many small rituals that helped quiet the constant pressure that seemed hardwired into his brain.
He was halfway through unpacking his gear when Luca hurried into the room.
The younger player looked flustered, a fact that immediately caught Shane’s attention. Luca was many things—energetic, enthusiastic, occasionally chaotic—but he was rarely late and almost never visibly stressed. Yet this morning he was juggling a backpack over one shoulder, a duffel bag in one hand, and a cardboard tube tucked awkwardly under his arm. Whatever he had brought with him looked like enough equipment to survive a week-long road trip rather than a single practice.
“Moving in?” Shane called.
Luca laughed breathlessly as he nearly dropped the tube.
“School project.”
“You still have those?”
“I am twenty-one, not seventy.”
“You make a compelling argument.”
Luca rolled his eyes and continued toward his stall.
The exchange was brief enough that Shane didn’t think much of it. He returned to organizing his gear while conversations slowly filled the room around him. It wasn’t until several minutes later, when he happened to glance across the dressing room, that something registered.
The backpack Luca had tossed beside his stall wasn’t one he normally carried.
Shane knew that because Luca almost never used a backpack at all.
Most days the younger player arrived with little more than a hockey bag and whatever coffee he had purchased on the way to the rink. The backpack looked older, well-used, covered with small pins and keychains that suggested it had been part of Luca’s life for years.
One pin in particular caught Shane’s attention.
His gaze lingered for a second longer than necessary.
Yellow.
White.
Purple.
Black.
The non-binary flag.
For a moment he wondered if he was mistaken.
The pin wasn’t large. It wasn’t positioned to draw attention. If anything, it looked like the sort of thing someone attached to a bag for themselves rather than for other people to notice. But there was no mistaking the colours.
Shane felt a small flicker of surprise.
Not discomfort.
Not confusion.
Just surprise.
Because in all the years he had known Luca, the younger player had never mentioned being non-binary.
Then again, Shane reflected, there were countless reasons why someone might not volunteer that information. Hockey was changing, but it wasn’t always the easiest environment to navigate when it came to personal identity. Even within a supportive organization like Ottawa, deciding when and how to share something so personal wasn’t necessarily simple.
His eyes drifted toward Luca.
The younger player was laughing at something Boodram had said, completely unaware of the attention his backpack had briefly attracted.
Shane looked away.
Whatever the pin meant, it wasn’t his business unless Luca wanted it to be.
Still, the thought lingered.
The rest of practice passed normally, but Shane found himself noticing things he had never paid attention to before. Not because Luca had changed. Luca was exactly the same person he had always been. Rather, Shane was beginning to realize how little he had ever questioned certain assumptions.
There had been moments over the years.
Little things.
Comments that had seemed insignificant at the time.
Luca never appeared particularly attached to masculine labels. Whenever teammates jokingly referred to one another as “the boys” or “the guys,” Luca participated easily enough, but there was always a subtle hesitation whenever those words were directed specifically at him. Shane had never thought much of it before.
There had also been interviews.
Questions from reporters.
Conversations during community events.
More than once, Shane recalled hearing someone refer to Luca using they instead of he. Most people corrected themselves immediately. Luca never did.
At the time, Shane had simply assumed the younger player hadn’t cared enough to bother correcting strangers.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
By the end of practice, Shane had almost convinced himself he was reading too much into a backpack pin.
Almost.
Then he caught Ilya staring at it.
The captain was standing near the doorway, half-dressed and waiting for Shane to finish changing. His expression was thoughtful in a way that immediately made Shane suspicious.
“You noticed.”
Ilya glanced toward him.
“Da.”
Shane wasn’t surprised.
Very little escaped Ilya when it came to his teammates.
The captain cared too much not to notice things.
For a moment neither man spoke.
Then Ilya asked quietly, “You think means something?”
Shane considered the question.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe.”
Neither of them elaborated.
Neither of them needed to.
Because the real question wasn’t whether Luca might be non-binary.
The real question was whether Luca wanted anyone to know.
And neither of them intended to force that conversation.
The problem was that hockey teams noticed everything.
Within forty-eight hours, half the roster had seen the pin.
Nobody said anything directly.
Nobody made jokes.
Nobody gossiped.
But people noticed.
Boodram noticed while waiting for practice to start.
Wyatt noticed because goaltenders spent strange amounts of time observing random details.
Troy noticed while sitting beside Luca during a team flight.
Even Dykstra noticed, though only after several days had passed.
The strange thing was that everyone seemed to reach the same conclusion.
If Luca wanted to tell them something, he would.
If he didn’t, that was okay too.
The matter should have ended there.
Unfortunately, Luca eventually realized people had noticed.
It happened during a road trip.
The team had just landed after a delayed flight and everyone was exhausted. Players sprawled across the hotel lobby while waiting for room keys, carrying on several conversations at once. Luca had wandered off to grab a drink from a vending machine down the hallway.
The problem was that he returned at exactly the wrong moment.
“…not our business,” Shane was saying.
“Da,” Ilya agreed. “If Luca wants tell us, Luca tells us.”
The conversation had been quiet.
Respectful.
Private.
But Luca heard enough.
Shane knew it immediately.
The younger player froze halfway down the hallway.
For a split second, their eyes met.
Then Luca looked away.
The expression on his face lasted only a moment.
Shock.
Then panic.
Then something much worse.
Fear.
Before Shane could call out, Luca turned and disappeared around the corner.
A knot formed in Shane’s stomach.
“Oh no.”
Ilya frowned.
“What?”
Shane sighed.
“I think he heard us.”
The captain’s face immediately darkened.
“Shit.”
The next few days were difficult.
Not outwardly.
Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed anything had changed.
Luca still laughed during practice.
Still joked with teammates.
Still participated in drills.
Still showed up for team dinners.
But the players who knew him best could see the difference.
Something was wrong.
The younger player seemed tense all the time.
Distracted.
Like he was constantly waiting for something bad to happen.
Ilya hated it.
The captain had spent enough of his life hiding parts of himself to recognize the look.
He remembered years of secrecy.
Years of wondering who would stay and who would leave if they learned the truth.
Years of carrying fears that grew larger every time he tried to ignore them.
Seeing even a hint of that same anxiety in Luca made his chest ache.
The breaking point came three days later.
Practice had ended early.
Most of the team had already left the dressing room when Ilya noticed Luca sitting alone at his stall.
The younger player wasn’t changing.
Wasn’t scrolling through his phone.
Wasn’t doing much of anything.
He was simply staring at the floor.
Something about the sight stopped Ilya in his tracks.
For several moments he hesitated.
Then he walked over and sat beside him.
Luca looked up.
“Oh. Hey.”
“Hey.”
Silence settled between them.
Not uncomfortable.
Just heavy.
Eventually Ilya spoke.
“You okay?”
The answer came too quickly.
“Yeah.”
A lie.
An obvious one.
Ilya sighed.
“You are terrible liar.”
A weak laugh escaped Luca.
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
For a few moments neither spoke.
Then Luca looked down at his hands.
“I think everyone knows.”
Ilya’s heart sank.
There it was.
The thing neither of them had wanted to force.
The thing Luca had been carrying alone.
“Knows what?”
The younger player swallowed.
For a moment it looked like he might back out.
Then the words came rushing out all at once.
“The pin. On my backpack. I forgot it was there and then people saw it and I heard you and Shane talking and I know everyone’s probably figured it out and—”
His voice broke.
The room fell silent.
Luca stared at the floor.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”
Something painfully vulnerable lingered beneath the words.
Not embarrassment.
Not shame.
Fear.
Fear that everything might change.
Fear that people might see him differently.
Fear that the place that had become home might suddenly feel unsafe.
Ilya understood that fear better than most.
For a long moment he simply sat there.
Then he said quietly, “Luca.”
The younger player looked up.
“If team knows, team knows because team cares.”
Luca blinked.
“What?”
“We notice things because we care.”
The captain’s voice remained calm.
Steady.
“You think we spend days worrying because pin changes anything?”
Luca didn’t answer.
Which was answer enough.
Ilya shook his head.
“Idiot.”
Luca let out a startled laugh.
“What?”
“You are idiot.”
“Ilya—”
“No. Listen.”
The captain leaned forward.
His expression softened.
“You are good player. Good teammate. Good person.”
Luca stared at him.
“You think pin changes any of that?”
The younger player’s eyes immediately filled with tears.
“No.”
“No.”
Ilya nodded.
Then, after a brief pause, he added gently, “Do you want tell people?”
The question hung in the air.
Not demanding.
Not pressuring.
Just offering.
Luca was quiet for a long time.
Then he whispered, “I think so.”
And for the first time in days, some of the tension left his shoulders.
The team meeting happened later that evening.
Not because anyone organized it.
Not because there was a formal discussion.
Simply because this was the Centaurs.
People gathered naturally.
They checked on one another.
They stayed.
By the time Luca arrived in the players’ lounge, nearly the entire roster was there.
The sight made him hesitate.
Then Shane stood and smiled.
Not a forced smile.
Not a pitying one.
Just Shane.
Warm and familiar.
And somehow that made it easier.
A little.
Enough.
Luca took a breath.
Then another.
“There’s something I want to tell you guys.”
Immediately the room became quiet.
Every eye turned toward him.
Nobody interrupted.
Nobody rushed him.
Nobody filled the silence.
They simply waited.
Luca’s hands trembled slightly.
For a moment he considered backing out.
Then he remembered every person in that room.
Every joke.
Every road trip.
Every late-night conversation.
Every moment these people had proven they cared.
“I…” He swallowed. “I’m non-binary.”
The words landed softly.
No dramatic reaction followed.
No shock.
No confusion.
Just listening.
Luca felt tears threatening.
“I use they and them pronouns.”
The room remained silent for another second.
Then Boodram smiled.
“Okay.”
Just that.
Okay.
Simple.
Easy.
Like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Because to him, it was.
Others nodded.
Wyatt offered a thumbs-up.
Troy looked visibly relieved.
Shane smiled.
And Ilya—
Ilya looked almost offended.
“As if we stop liking you now.”
Laughter broke through the tension.
The kind that made Luca’s chest hurt for entirely different reasons.
Relief flooded through them so quickly it was overwhelming.
“You knew?”
“Kind of,” Shane admitted.
“The backpack gave it away.”
Luca groaned.
“Oh my God.”
“The world’s least stealthy secret.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be a secret.”
“Sure.”
“It wasn’t!”
The room filled with laughter again.
And for the first time in weeks, Luca found themselves laughing too.
Really laughing.
The fear was gone.
Not completely.
Maybe it would never disappear completely.
But it was smaller now.
Manageable.
Because the people around them hadn’t changed.
Shane was still Shane.
Boodram was still Boodram.
Ilya was still Ilya.
The team was still their family.
And as the conversation shifted into teasing and jokes and arguments over dinner plans, Luca realized something that felt almost unbelievable.
Nothing had changed.
And somehow, everything had.
Because for the first time since joining the league, they weren’t waiting for people to discover who they were.
The people they loved already knew.
And they had stayed.