Coming Up for Air (cole caufield x oc)

Twenty-Nine

𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙚

A boy with dirty blonde hair and a wide frame answers the door. He's around six feet tall, blue eyes sweeping up and down Cole on the doorstep, apathetic.

"Who are you?" the guy demands.

Cole's voice gets stuck in his throat, and he finds himself scrambling. It takes him a moment to gather, "I'm Cole-uh-Caufield. Cole Caufield." He straightens a little, trying not to fold, and adds, "Are you Mac?"

The guy furrows his brows and narrows his gaze on Cole. "Yeah," he remarks. After several long seconds, Mac inquires, "Are you related to the hockey player named Caufield?"

Unexpectedly, a little chuckle escapes Cole's chest. "Yeah, that's me," he replies with a smile.

"Okay," Mac mutters, now crossing his arms over his chest. "What are you doing at my house?"

"Is Freya here?" Cole tries, voice soft.

Mac glances over his shoulder into the hallway behind him. "Yeah, but I don't think she's in the mood to see anyone," he tells Cole. "You know her?"

Cole nods and runs his fingers through his hair, which already feels sticky from the Florida heat. "She's my friend. I play in Montreal." He clears his throat awkwardly. "I just wanted to check on her."

Despite the glare with which Mac levels Cole, he steps aside and motions for Cole to follow him down the hall.

The house is beautiful: high ceilings and a chandelier above the staircase-nothing like the house Cole grew up in. As he's admiring the photos on the walls, he bumps right into Mac, who has stopped in the middle of the hallway.

"Sorry," Cole apologizes, heart-rate picking up a little. He says it again, "Sorry."

Mac responds, "Just wait here for a second, and I'll go see if she's up for talking to you."

Cole nods his understanding and watches Mac head to the end of the hall, where he knocks on the last door and then steps inside. Anxiously, Cole cracks his knuckles, bouncing a little on his feet in an attempt to eradicate the nervousness from his bones. It's been weeks since he's seen Freya, and a part of him worries she'll throw him out before he even gets a chance to make sure she's okay.

He pulls out his phone to update Nick.

-------

Messages

Conversation with Nicky Suz

Cole
made it to her place. thanks
again for letting coach know i can't
skate today. texted him but haven't
heard back. i'll be back for the game
tomorrow, though.

Nicky
yeah, of course. have you talked
to her yet?

Cole
not yet, but i'll keep you posted.

-------

Fine, maybe it was a little crazy to get Freya's address from Riley and hop on the next flight from Phoenix to Jacksonville. But somehow, it doesn't feel all that crazy to Cole. He didn't even think twice before telling Nick he would miss tonight's skate back home in Montreal. Nothing else mattered to him in the moment besides her.

When the door at the end of the hallway creaks open again, Mac steps out. He leaves the door slightly ajar, motioning for Cole to come forward. Cole obliges in a hurry, meeting Mac in the center of the corridor. "She was asleep, but I woke her up and said you were here," he tells Cole. "She's not doing so great, but you can go in."

"She said it was okay?" Cole stammers.

Honestly, he didn't expect to get this far.

But Mac offers him a nod of assurance and moves out of the way so that Cole can get through.

-------

𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕪𝕒

Freya barely has the strength to lift her head up when she hears the door to her room open again. When she sees Cole, his expression filled with sadness, she starts to cry again. Her eyes are nearly swollen shut from the tears already, but Cole still looks at her the way he always has-with the softness and adoration Freya feels she doesn't deserve.

He sits down on the edge of the bed beside her, though he doesn't move to touch her. He just breathes, "I'm so sorry, Frey," and shakes his head.

"Why are you sorry?" she stammers.

"That this happened to you," he replies, eyes a little glassy.

Freya, aching at the distance, moves a little closer to where he's sitting and reaches her hand out to touch his thigh.

It's then that he seems to notice the marks on her wrist, even though Freya is quick to pull her arm back under the covers.

"Was that him?" Cole asks, voice weak.

Freya, inexplicably embarrassed, nods slowly.

"Did he do anything else?"

Now, Freya can't even bring herself to nod. She just pulls her knees up into her chest, crying harder now. Cole's fingers brush against her cheek, warm and comforting.

"Please, Frey," he whispers, "let me help."

Freya sniffles, lifting her chin to look up at him. He looks close to tears, which does nothing to ease to Freya's own cries. Somehow, though, she manages, "He grabbed me by my hair-and he just pulled so hard." She slides a hand up into the back of her hair, where a little square is missing, swollen and painful to the touch. "And-and then he basically held me-up against this wall." Freya moves the covers, just enough to lift her t-shirt so that Cole can see the marks on her side.

She sees his jaw tighten, anger only half-hidden in his dark gaze. Perhaps feeling Freya's eyes on him, his expression softens.

"Cole," Freya prompts, trembling as she speaks, "why did you come all the way here?"

He runs a hand up and down his cheeks, where the thinnest layer of light stubble has formed. Freya wants nothing more than to pull him down by her side, to be held by him again. Still, she keeps her composure as he replies, "Because I needed to be with you. I couldn't know you were here and hurting-and not come."

That's all it takes. Freya's sobs return, and she reaches for the bottom of Cole's shirt. "Please," she requests, tugging gently, "lay down."

Cole asks no questions, swinging his legs up onto the bed and settling beside Freya. He slips one arm beneath her neck so that she can nestle close to his chest. His right hand finds the back of Freya's head, and he ever so softly brushes his fingers against her scalp, soothing the pain that stings her there.

"It's gonna be okay," he murmurs before planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You're safe now."