But the second they’re in the locker room again, David can tell the subject hasn’t been dropped. There are enough murmurs and side-eyes that you’d think a major trade had just gone down.

“All I’m saying is it’s a good thing Lapointe’s signed to the Leafs basically forever,” Merchant says to Vopni from beside David. “Because I wouldn’t want to deal with that kind of gay bullshit in my room.”

David freezes.

“Dude, shut the fuck up,” Jake says from across the room.

Merchant looks over at him. “Hit a nerve, Lourdy? There something you want to tell us?”

“Leave the kid alone,” Hamilton says. “It’s the twenty-first fucking century, Merchant, you’re the only one who gives a shit. Sure there isn’t something you want to tell us?”

“The fuck are you saying, Hamilton?” Merchant snaps.

“Shut the fuck up, all of you,” Caldwell says. “Jesus fucking Christ, Merchant, do you ever shut your mouth?”

Merchant silently fumes, and David watches Hamilton roll his eyes and nudge Jake’s shoulder, which gets him a quick flash of a smile in return.

The atmosphere is stifling throughout the afternoon, Merchant still pissed and everyone avoiding him, Jake throwing looks at David that David keeps catching, until David half-thinks that everyone must realise he’s doing it, realise why.

There’s less chatter than usual after practice before everyone starts filtering out, and David doesn’t feel like sticking around either. He calls a cab on his way out the door, because he’s not good company right now, not for anyone. Not for himself, but he doesn’t have any choice in that. He knows he’ll read all the articles on Lapointe the second he gets back to his hotel room, even the ones that will make him feel simultaneously sick and guiltily grateful that the articles aren’t about him.

He waits further down than he usually does, but Jake still pulls up in front of him.

“C’mon,” Jake says.

“I got a cab,” David says. “You go ahead.”

“Not moving,” Jake says, almost sing-song, and doesn’t.

David narrows his eyes.

“It looks weird if you suddenly stop catching rides with me,” Jake says, raising his eyebrows.

David frowns. “No one would notice. You’re just trying to convince me.”

“Then no one would notice if you got in,” Jake says, then, cheerfully, “Is it working?”

David sighs and gets in the car.

“Besides,” Jake says, pulling away from the curb once David’s put his seatbelt on. “You don’t want to do anything that would make Merchant happy, do you?”

“You shouldn’t have said that to him,” David says.

“Why not?” Jake asks. “If no one tells him off then he’s just going to keep spouting that shit.”

“But now he’s going to think you took it personally,” David says.

“I did take it personally,” Jake says. “And I would have told him to shut up even if I’d never sucked a dick. He’s a homophobic asshole.”

David flushes, looks away.

Jake laughs. “I can suck your dick but I can’t talk about it?”