Brotherly Love
Chapter 1/1
||Henrik’s POV||
I was lying on my bed in the hotel room I shared with my brother, Daniel. I had just watched my teammates beat the Chicago Blackhawks 3-0, with Daniel getting a goal and an assist. I let my head fall back on the pillow as a wave of nausea and muscle pain rippled through me. I always hated getting sick, but it was worse when it was the flu.
After lying there for a few more minutes, I decided that I needed more Tylenol, so I rolled slowly off of my bed and stood up. I instantly ran to the bathroom to empty the very few contents of my stomach into it. I dry heaved for a solid 20 minutes afterward. The door opened and closed very slowly.
“Henrik?” Daniel called out. He walked into the bathroom and raced to my side. “Are you all right?” He asked. I shook my head as another dry heave racked my body. He wrapped an arm around my waits, muttering soothing words to me in Swedish.
“Daniel, I feel horrible,” I mumbled as I fell back against him. He helped me up and to the sink. I rinsed my mouth out with water while he flushed the toilet. He helped me back into bed and got me a glass of water, some Tylenol and called room service to get me some soup.
I fell back on the pillows again as I took the Tylenol and downed the water. I closed my eyes and felt myself drifting to sleep.
||Daniel’s POV||
I watched as Henrik fell asleep before he got a chance to eat anything. He needed sleep, though. I sat on the bed next to him, holding him in my arms and stroking his hair gently. I rocked him back and forth as he started to shake, like he normally did when he had a nightmare.
“Daniel!” Henrik cried, his eyes flying open. He struggled against me.
“It’s all right, I’m right here,” I said softly, holding him close against me. He relaxed and rested against me. “I’m here,” I said again, turning him to face me. He buried his head in my shoulder and I stroked his hair while he cried. “What did you dream of?” I asked softly. I knew him best; he always talked about his dreams.
“I dreamt that I was alone, completely alone,” He whispered hoarsely. He shuddered. “There was no one else, no one at all.” I knew how scared Henrik was of being alone, so I held him tighter.
“I’m here, Henrik. I always will be,” I promised. Henrik shivered and I held him closer. I kissed his forehead gently and sang him to sleep.
||Henrik’s POV||
I must’ve fallen asleep in Daniel’s arms after telling him about the dream, because he was still holding me when I woke up. I snuggled into him and my lips gently brushed his cheek. I closed my eyes and noticed I was feeling a lot better.
Daniel opened his eyes and smiled down at me.
“Morning, Hank,” He said.
“Morning, Dan,” I responded. We stared at each other for a few minutes longer before getting up. I stretched and yawned.
“How’re you feeling?” He asked. I grinned.
“I feel like I could go out there and win the Art Ross Trophy,” I said excitedly, cleaning up the stuff from last night’s sickness. Daniel grinned and wrapped and arm around my shoulders.
“Sounds great, Hank. I might just hold you to winning the Art Ross,” He said. I laughed.
“You just watch. I’m going to do it!” I said. He laughed as we packed our things and went to join our teammates.
||Daniel’s POV||
We got onto the plane and I took a seat next to Henrik. I always hated flying. As the plane started down the tarmac, Henrik grabbed my hand and held it tight. I closed my eyes and he squeezed my hand, letting me know he was there for me.
Once the plane was in the air, I opened my eyes and Henrik let go of my hand. I smiled at him.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Anytime,” He responded, giving me a light hug. The other guys were in the aisles talking to one another while Henrik and I cuddled in our seats on the flight back to Vancouver.
As the plane began to land, Henrik kept his arms tight around me while I buried my head in his chest. He rubbed my back and stroked my hair, telling me it was okay. Once we landed, he helped me up and we got our things.
Henrik left for his house, and I left for mine. We met up with our wives and we went out to dinner together to celebrate. It was almost the end of the season, and Henrik was still very much in the running for the Art Ross Trophy. I had confidence he would win it.
||The Next Night||
It was the last game of the regular season, and we were all nervous. I think Henrik was the most nervous of all of us. He went out on our first shift and immediately started to work well.
By the end of the night, he had 4 assists. He was leading for the Art Ross Trophy like he’d promised. We treated him to dinner.
The next morning, we got up early and decided we would watch the Capitals last game against the Bruins to see if Alexander Ovechkin would edge out Henrik for the Trophy. The Bruins took it to a shootout and won, holding Ovechkin without a point.
“Henrik, you won the Art Ross!” I exclaimed. We jumped up and hugged, kissing each other softly as we fell back onto the couch.
I was lying on my bed in the hotel room I shared with my brother, Daniel. I had just watched my teammates beat the Chicago Blackhawks 3-0, with Daniel getting a goal and an assist. I let my head fall back on the pillow as a wave of nausea and muscle pain rippled through me. I always hated getting sick, but it was worse when it was the flu.
After lying there for a few more minutes, I decided that I needed more Tylenol, so I rolled slowly off of my bed and stood up. I instantly ran to the bathroom to empty the very few contents of my stomach into it. I dry heaved for a solid 20 minutes afterward. The door opened and closed very slowly.
“Henrik?” Daniel called out. He walked into the bathroom and raced to my side. “Are you all right?” He asked. I shook my head as another dry heave racked my body. He wrapped an arm around my waits, muttering soothing words to me in Swedish.
“Daniel, I feel horrible,” I mumbled as I fell back against him. He helped me up and to the sink. I rinsed my mouth out with water while he flushed the toilet. He helped me back into bed and got me a glass of water, some Tylenol and called room service to get me some soup.
I fell back on the pillows again as I took the Tylenol and downed the water. I closed my eyes and felt myself drifting to sleep.
||Daniel’s POV||
I watched as Henrik fell asleep before he got a chance to eat anything. He needed sleep, though. I sat on the bed next to him, holding him in my arms and stroking his hair gently. I rocked him back and forth as he started to shake, like he normally did when he had a nightmare.
“Daniel!” Henrik cried, his eyes flying open. He struggled against me.
“It’s all right, I’m right here,” I said softly, holding him close against me. He relaxed and rested against me. “I’m here,” I said again, turning him to face me. He buried his head in my shoulder and I stroked his hair while he cried. “What did you dream of?” I asked softly. I knew him best; he always talked about his dreams.
“I dreamt that I was alone, completely alone,” He whispered hoarsely. He shuddered. “There was no one else, no one at all.” I knew how scared Henrik was of being alone, so I held him tighter.
“I’m here, Henrik. I always will be,” I promised. Henrik shivered and I held him closer. I kissed his forehead gently and sang him to sleep.
||Henrik’s POV||
I must’ve fallen asleep in Daniel’s arms after telling him about the dream, because he was still holding me when I woke up. I snuggled into him and my lips gently brushed his cheek. I closed my eyes and noticed I was feeling a lot better.
Daniel opened his eyes and smiled down at me.
“Morning, Hank,” He said.
“Morning, Dan,” I responded. We stared at each other for a few minutes longer before getting up. I stretched and yawned.
“How’re you feeling?” He asked. I grinned.
“I feel like I could go out there and win the Art Ross Trophy,” I said excitedly, cleaning up the stuff from last night’s sickness. Daniel grinned and wrapped and arm around my shoulders.
“Sounds great, Hank. I might just hold you to winning the Art Ross,” He said. I laughed.
“You just watch. I’m going to do it!” I said. He laughed as we packed our things and went to join our teammates.
||Daniel’s POV||
We got onto the plane and I took a seat next to Henrik. I always hated flying. As the plane started down the tarmac, Henrik grabbed my hand and held it tight. I closed my eyes and he squeezed my hand, letting me know he was there for me.
Once the plane was in the air, I opened my eyes and Henrik let go of my hand. I smiled at him.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Anytime,” He responded, giving me a light hug. The other guys were in the aisles talking to one another while Henrik and I cuddled in our seats on the flight back to Vancouver.
As the plane began to land, Henrik kept his arms tight around me while I buried my head in his chest. He rubbed my back and stroked my hair, telling me it was okay. Once we landed, he helped me up and we got our things.
Henrik left for his house, and I left for mine. We met up with our wives and we went out to dinner together to celebrate. It was almost the end of the season, and Henrik was still very much in the running for the Art Ross Trophy. I had confidence he would win it.
||The Next Night||
It was the last game of the regular season, and we were all nervous. I think Henrik was the most nervous of all of us. He went out on our first shift and immediately started to work well.
By the end of the night, he had 4 assists. He was leading for the Art Ross Trophy like he’d promised. We treated him to dinner.
The next morning, we got up early and decided we would watch the Capitals last game against the Bruins to see if Alexander Ovechkin would edge out Henrik for the Trophy. The Bruins took it to a shootout and won, holding Ovechkin without a point.
“Henrik, you won the Art Ross!” I exclaimed. We jumped up and hugged, kissing each other softly as we fell back onto the couch.