Bradley Simpson Imagines

hockey boy (img, 110)

You had been friends with Bradley for as long as you can remember, your parents being bestfriends most of their lives, ultimately making the two of you inseparable.

He was a hockey boy.

His mom had passed away a few months ago, but the coaches were set on keeping him on the team, allowing him to participate in whatever he wanted to, and also allowing him to leave when he needed.

He was a mommas boy for sure.. everything he had to show for, was for her. Even when she was still around.

They were close. And you promised him you wouldn't leave him, and he's grasping onto that with his entire being.

You had no intentions to be more than friends with him— not that you would refuse to the idea if it ever came up though.

You had made it a habit to come to all his games and practices, todays practice being mid day.

You say quietly in the stands, a tims in your hand as you watched him run drills with the rest of the team.

It seemed as though they had decided to try a scrimmage to keep the boys awake, Brad, and the boy that caused the most trouble, Tyler, were face to face waiting for the puck to drop.

Tyler said something to him, causing his shoulders to stiffen, but he stayed staring at him.

You shook it off, not worrying about what he could've said because Brad was still standing straight—

Throwing his stick on the ground with much aggression, he threw his gloves off not long after and skated off the rink.

You rush down to the hallway he went through, worry coating your veins.

"Brad—" you came face to face with him, his helmet in his hands as he throws it to the ground, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

"I love you." He whimpers into your neck, your hands find their way to his shoulders as you lightly massage them.

"I love you too.." you murmur, running your hand through his wet hair, your eyebrows still knitted together as he holds you close.

"He brought mom up.. I couldn't.. I—"

"Shh.." you whisper, wanting nothing more than to punch Tyler in the balls. "I'm here.."

"I—" he sobs, his body becoming more and more weak in your hold.

You back up to lean against the wall, letting him fully support himself on you.

"I just don't get why he had to—"

"I know love.." you mumble, tears coating your eyes. "He had no right,"

"Fuck.." he cries. "I miss her so, so much.. Y/N.. I just.." he chokes on one of his sobs, your body weighing with sadness.

He didn't deserve this. Any of this.

Yet there was nothing you could do to make it better.

So you stayed there. Because all you could do was be there for him, and you weren't planning on leaving.

Running your hands up and down his jersey covered back, you kept him close to you, letting him take his time in calming down.

Once he was ready to change, you had decided, you were going to fight Tyler— or try to.. I mean... he can't hit a girl anyways.

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sorry for such little updates... i've had 5 straight days of migraines & and am exhausted