#this also happened to me on the bus and puke literally covered the entire cabinet wall

[haydnfleury]

Flatline

**MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH DISCLAIMER**

Who: William Nylander, Zach Hyman

Type: Dark Fic

Word Count: 2.4K

Addendum: Title is from the song Flatline off the Hotline Miami soundtrack.

~AO3 Version

 The next morning seemed like any other winter morning in Toronto. Frost forming on the windows from the dropping temperatures, the sound of early morning traffic on the streets below, and the alarm blaring its usual tone. Except, something’s different. Wrong.

 “I love you Zachy.”

 “I love you too Willy.”

 They kissed and held each other closely under the covers, beginning to fall asleep.

 The next morning seemed like any other winter morning in Toronto. Frost forming on the windows from the dropping temperatures, the sound of early morning traffic on the streets below, and the alarm blaring its usual tone. Except, something’s different. Wrong. Zach is usually the first one to get out of bed anyway, but Willy doesn’t seem to have woken up like he always has when the alarm went off before practice- in fact he doesn’t seem to have moved at all from where he was the night prior.

 “Honey?” Zach asks trying to shake him awake.

 Nothing. A little louder and harder this time- nothing. Starting to panic, Zach bursts into the closet digging around for their travel suitcases. After having thrown half of the clothes out, he finds them, and grabs a small hand-held mirror from the toiletries bag. Holding it under Willy’s nose the glass starts to fog up. Good, he’s not dead at least.

 Zach hurriedly throws on some clothes and phones up emergency services, as well as the new coach and several teammates. EMT’s arrive within five minutes of him calling, and rush Willy out to the ambulance, constantly monitoring his dangerously low vitals on the way to the emergency room.

 By the time he was stabilized and Zach was let into the room, the entire team had arrived, bleary-eyed from sleep but still quite visibly concerned. The doctor began to explain that he suffered from a stroke sometime in the early hours of the morning, and that he was stuck in a coma. The rest started to become a blur as Zach got lost in his own thoughts, How did he get a stroke? We’re both too young for-- When is he going to wake up-- Is-- is he going to wake up? Please don’t leave me like this. I don’t--

 The thoughts are interrupted by Mitchy’s hand on his shoulder.

 “Hey, are you okay?”

 When he looks up the doctor had already left, and everyone was looking at him, all with the same question on their face.

 “I. I don’t know,” is all he can manage to say, he doesn’t really know the answer to that himself yet.

 “In light of events this morning, we’ll move practice to tomorrow,” Keefe decides and everyone nods in agreement, “Hyman, take the week off if you need it, I won’t think any less of you if you need more time off.”

 Outside in the ward, they start to hear a growing chatter, and the clattering of equipment. The Media.

 “Oh boy, already? I need to go take care of this. John? Do me a favour and call Kyle, have him restrict the media for injury protocol.”

 And with that the coach goes out and closes the door behind him, and Tavey steps into the bathroom to make his phone call. Zach pulls a chair over to the bedside and sits down, grabbing Willy’s hand. At this point he can’t hold back, lowering his head onto his hand and bed underneath it, as the tears start to break through.

 Mo makes his way over and puts his arm around Zach. Mitchy is suddenly reminded of his own boyfriend, Marty, being suddenly taken away from him when his plane crashed on his way back from the off-season, and starts tearing up. Tys pulls him into a hug and lets him cry into his shoulder. Everyone else in the crowded room just looks on solemnly.

 Zach stays at the hospital for three days. Initially Tavey steps up as captain and visits them first, bringing Zach food each day so he’d remember to actually eat. Everyone else visits in their own time.

 After the third day Zach returns to practice, something to hopefully take his mind off of what’s going on. It works well enough, returning to drills and playing on the first line for games. Focus. Focus on something else. The team. The game. Getting that puck into the net. Focus.

 It’s been three weeks since that cold morning. Zach’s thoughts are composed enough now, and they’re in the middle of a game at home. He’s in a face-off when he sees Kyle entering the player bench on the phone, they’ve been discussing different trade opportunities lately- a Marlie or two for a player from one of the other teams- so he doesn’t think much of it. When the play ends though to an off-side, he calls a timeout. Yeah, they’re losing 5-2, but they’re still in the second period, so they shouldn’t need it yet right?

 But when they all come together, there’s no whiteboards, no iPads, no talk of plays or strategies. Keefe seems to have lost his tongue, shuffling in place, so Kyle speaks up.

 “He’s gone. William. He’s gone.”

 It’s dead silent on the bench, aside from the few who had dropped what they were holding, and Zach’s world seemed to be crashing down along with them.

 “It was about four minutes ago, I had just got off the phone with the doctors. We um, we’ve decided to forfeit the game; I don’t think any of you wants to continue playing now.”

 Nobody seems to have the strength to respond. But they all stand up and make their way down the tunnel to the locker room while Kyle radios to the staff to forfeit, and block all media personnel from the Leafs’ sections of the building. When they’ve all dressed and make their way to the parking garage Zach is the first person to even say a word since Kyle told them.

 “Morgan, can you drive me home? I can’t really think straight.”

 He agrees and, and he’s not exactly wrong. At the moment everything is just noise, bright and blurry colours, and the cold air; he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between 60 km/h or 150 km/h, or a red light on an intersection with a car coming from the other direction. Not to mention the fact he couldn’t bring himself to drive in their car, knowing Willy would never be in the passenger seat again.

 When they get to Zach’s apartment, he fumbles with the keys to get the door open. But seeing their home, *his* home now, makes his stomach churn. He bolts nearly through the bathroom door and pukes his guts out in the toilet. Composing himself, he gets himself back up and washes his mouth out in the sink, as his mind becomes a tempest of emotions: anger, frustration, despair, guilt.

 As he looks in the mirror, the anger takes over and he punches the glass with his hand, cracking it, and drawing blood from his knuckles before he collapses against the wall, bending his legs towards him and crying. The sound of breaking glass had Mo rushing over to see what happened, only to see the shattered reflections, and his teammate in tears on the floor.

 “Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay,” he bends down and then notices the blood, “shit, we better fix that.”

 Having been to their place enough times, Mo knew his way around, and so he dug through the cabinet to find the first aid kit. First examining the hand, then grabbing the tweezers to pull out the remnant shards of glass. Switching to a piece of cloth and wetting it with alcohol, he cleans the wound. It draws a sharp, pained breath from Zach.

 “Sorry, I know this probably hurts like hell,” once it’s cleaned, he wraps it tightly.

 He manages to get Zach ready enough for bed and sits on the couch, figuring he should probably stay and keep an eye on him for a while. Meanwhile Zach tries to sleep, but his thoughts are racing. He’s gone. William. He’s gone. - I love you Zachy. That’s the last thing I ever heard him say… and I can’t ever hear his voice again, or see that smile of his, the deepness of his eyes, his- his- his fucking laugh that could brighten an entire room. - Why wasn’t I there… Why- why him? Why do bad things happen to good people? It- it should’ve been me, not him, never him. I- I can’t- I’ll never be able to feel his touch again, never be able to hold him- I- I-… his thoughts trail off, and he’s whisked away to sleep.

 In the morning the tears are gone. There aren’t any left. Period. In its wake is just emptiness. A void which can’t be filled. Mo had made breakfast for them by the time Zach got out of the bedroom. They eat in near silence, Mo tries several times to say something, but can’t find the right words to say. All he can think of is “I’m sorry,” which the only response he gets is Zach looking up at him before looking back at the food.

 That night, he tries drinking his problems away. Forget. Just forget. It works for a while, but it always comes flooding back in the morning. The time they visited Niagara Falls with the team, when they were on the Ferris wheel together, the first time they kissed literally during a game, moving in together when his lease on the last place ended, all their date nights, the stroke-- he stopped. What was the point if it was only temporary.

 The funeral services had been arranged by Tavey and Kyle, it was an extremely private ceremony, attended by teammates and the bereaved family. Zach was quite visibly a wreck, but no one was really much better. It had shaken up everyone, he was more important to everyone than they had even realized. Zach managed to speak in basic Swedish that he learned from Willy to his family. David [Pastrnak] also showed up to mourn, on the verge of quitting his career in hockey- he just lost one of his oldest friends.

 Within the week, a joint statement was released by Kyle and Keefe about the death, to a shocked nation. Everywhere, from Los Angeles to Halifax, or Vancouver to Miami, almost every major city in Canada was pouring in support and remembrance. Everywhere Zach went, he would see some calibre of remembrance on a poster, billboard, or bus- a constant reminder, He’s gone.

 Cigarettes was the next thing he tried, but to no avail. He had felt the exact same as before after one, and so he threw the rest back into a drawer to be forgotten.

 The team had taken nearly a month away from playing, but had gotten back to it. But it wasn’t the same. You lose a player they’re usually either traded or retired. Their place in the lineup or their stall in the locker room would be changed out, but they’d still be around, just not under the same colours. Not this time. No team would ever have him again. The players just keep moving forward, it’s all they can do, but the thought always lingers in the back of their minds.

 Mo didn’t intend to, but he effectively moved in with Zach until he thought it was fine for him to be alone, besides Gards would keep their place up until then. It never really improved though. Zach would just go through the motions. Get up, eat, practice, sleep. Get up, eat, play, sleep. Repeat. He could definitely still score, and help the team, but the celebrations never had the same feeling. There was always someone missing that would never come back, and be on the ice, be on the lineup. Life had started to lose it’s luster, and nothing changed that. Get up, eat, practice, sleep. Get up, eat, play, sleep. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

 Time didn’t seem to have a meaning anymore either. It could be seconds, days, weeks, or months, Zach couldn’t tell the difference. It was always the same cold, dark world that it was yesterday. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. He’s gone. He’s fucking gone.

 Was there any emotion left? No one knew. Everyone was consoling each other, but Mo, he didn’t know how to help. He’d never lost someone that close to him, Gards was there and waiting for him to come home. He did what he could, but even before starting to talk to a therapist he could see Zach was a husk of what he used to be. Everything was cold. Cold and dark, all of it a blur.

 Mo was already asleep on the couch, and Zach in bed when the city’s power grid failed and plunged the Greater Toronto Area into darkness. Zach walked out of the bedroom and through to the veranda, and sat on the railing. He looked up. Stars. It felt like eons since he last saw them. There’s something. A memory. Faint, but still there. Willy. When they both joined the Leafs in 2016, Zach was lost. It was a new place, new people, new everything. Willy was one of the first people he met. Willy had been to and from Toronto so many times as a kid with his father, he knew the area well. One of the first things they did together was drive out to a spot Willy would always go to. Since he was a kid, there was always this one place outside the city he would go to. It was a secluded little clearing where at night you could see the stars above. They had become friends quickly after that. It felt like centuries ago now though.

 Zach can’t feel anything anymore. He could be falling, but he doesn’t know. He swears he could hear someone calling his name, but it seems so far away and distorted. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes to check, everything is cold and dark, and the world around him is the same, there’s no point to. I love you Zachy. I love you too Willy. He feels like he hears that being said again, but it’s coming from everywhere, and nowhere. Then, nothing. Oddly, it becomes warm, warmth he hasn’t felt in who knows how long it’s been now. He feels something touch him. It’s familiar, yet completely foreign.

 “Zach.”

 Willy. Zach actually has the willpower to open his eyes now. Willy is pulling him up. He feels oddly weightless, and disorientated. He’s on the sidewalk. He tries to look behind to where he was but Willy holds his head with his hand and stops him.

 “Don’t.”

 He stops. By now he notices they’re both hovering off the ground.

 “Are we dead?”

 “Afraid so.”

 Willy moves over to the side of Zach and holds his hand as they both float away.

 “Where are we going?”

 “I don’t know, but I waited for you. Wherever it is, we’ll find out together.”

 “I love you honey.”

 “I love you too, forever and always.”