Chapter Text
When Shane wakes up the next morning at an awful, routine-shifting 11am, Ilya's gone for church. The hatchback isn't in the driveway either, and dad's sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee. At Shane's usual spot is a huge glass of water and the massive bottle of Costco brand of Tylenol they usually keep in the kitchen cabinet.
Which is nice because Shane's head hurts like crazy. Last night was so screwed up. He knows he shouldn't have been drinking, but everyone else was, so it would've been beyond weird if Shane didn't. They've called him a baby before for less. Plus Ilya was drinking too and then he was off with the girls and Madison's massive house felt way too small and then he was throwing up in front of Daunis Peltier, the coolest girl in their grade.
"So," Dad starts, much to Shane's chagrin as he tosses two pills back and chases them with water. "Had a good Halloween?"
"No."
"No?"
Shane shakes his head, regrets it immediately as his vision swims. What. The. Hell. He rubs at his temples with a whine, "I know I messed up, okay?"
"Yeah, I know you do, kiddo. I just want to know why."
"Everyone else was doing it!" Shane snaps. Sometimes, he feels like his parents expect way more out of him than everyone else's parents expect out of them. "Even Ilya, who was drinking actual liquor by the way."
"Shane." Dad's voice is warm, soft, and as gentle as always. Shane tilts his face away, hating how badly his eyes burn with tears he doesn't want to let fall. He hates disappointing his parents and he knows he's disappointed them in a big way. "Ilya's in trouble too, okay? Why do you think Mom's not here?"
Oh.
Oh.
Dad sighs, "I just want to know what was going through your head. We've talked about this over and over again…"
"Yeah I know. Don't drink, don't smoke, don't do drugs even if someone really wants me too."
"And you were drinking."
Shane sniffs, "Everyone else was."
"That's not a good enough reason, Shane."
The real reason is unknown to Shane. He'd just been so angry that Ilya left him with the rest of the boys to go hang out with the girls. Shane gets along decently well with everyone else in his grade, especially the hockey boys, but he knows they don't exactly treat him the way they treat each other; and he doesn't know why or what he did that makes everyone but Ilya keep their distance.
Shane wanted to watch Nightmare on Elm Street with Ilya, he wanted to eat pizza and show Ilya Aero bars and Smarties, Coffee Crisp too. The fudge Ilya brought from Russia was so tasty and Shane's been rationing so he doesn't run out before Ilya goes home.
Because Ilya will have to go home at the end of June, and that's terrifying because Ilya's the first best friend Shane's ever had.
And Ilya ditched him for Daunis.
"Buddy, you can tell me anything. No judgement here. I only want to know what's going on in your head."
"There were girls," Shane says weakly, kicking at the table leg. "They were hanging out in Madison's basement and Ilya went to hang out with them, like, immediately."
"Ah."
"And everyone else was drinking upstairs anyway and I didn't want to say no because they might call me a baby or something and they…" He remembers very clearly now, Madison slurring his words, calling Ilya that word. Shane's been called lots of that words on the ice before. Mom has a stink every time Shane mentions what the other teams call him when they're shoving him into the boards, so he's learned to stop telling her and pretend he's fine even when the words get to be too much. "Madison called Ilya a faggot." And Shane didn't want to be called that word too, so he kept drinking.
Dad's eyes go wide for a moment and he blinks a lot like he's got a lash stuck behind his eyelid. "Geeze, that must've been a lot."
"It was. Ilya uh, he handled it in his own way, he's very cool about stuff, I guess." Much cooler than Shane is. Ilya didn't tear up and lose his voice, Ilya didn't run away or put his hands over his ears as if he could somehow block out the power of the word. Ilya just fooled around like he's always doing. He got the girls on his side and then he left Shane alone. Shane wrinkles his nose, "I'm pretty sure he was making out with Daunis in the bathroom too. Ugh."
"Ugh?"
Sometimes, Ilya feels the same age as Shane— thirteen— then he'll do something like not react to being hit by a teacher or make out with a girl he barely freaking knows and then he suddenly feels so much older. Shane doesn't get it, he doesn't get Ilya until the precise moments in which he does.
Yet they're still friends, and Shane isn't really mad at Ilya, he's mad at Daunis for taking Ilya away from him. Shane bets they'll be going to winter formal together.
"Oh, and Janelle and I are going to winter formal together, she wants us to color coordinate."
"Alright."
"Am I in trouble?"
"Oh. Big time."
Shane wilts, he'd been sort of hoping to not be seeing as this was really a one-time thing and he thinks he learned his lesson by puking in front of Ilya and Daunis. God, Daunis is so pretty too and tall, just like Ilya. No wonder she dragged him off and no wonder Ilya followed. Shane's not sure what's so good about girls but apparently Ilya does considering he's got you know, girlfriends back in Russia or something.
"We're not watching hockey reruns for a week," Dad says firmly.
Shane's heart plummets, "Dad! They're already on lockout—"
"Yep, so there's nothing new and you've already seen last season's games—"
"That's not fair! Ilya and I were going to watch the Fight Night recording!"
"Not anymore."
Tears dampen his lashes, "Dad."
"Shane," Dad sighs, heavily. "We've talked about this— we talked about it before you and Ilya left. No drinking, no smoking, no drugs even if everyone else is doing them. That's our one rule when you leave the house and you and Ilya broke it."
Well, Shane knows this much, "Ilya doesn't even like hockey like that!" Not like Shane does, at least, but he's wicked smart about hockey, really knows what he's talking about. He's Coach Braum's new favorite. Shane thinks he might hate Ilya a little bit. Everyone likes him more than Shane, including Shane. It's. Not. Fair.
"Which is why he'll be facing different consequences. Both of you knew better and both of you didn't listen regardless."
"I," Shane breathes, chest heaving, "I have never broken a rule ever." Except maybe to sneak onto the family computer after midnight to watch hockey compilations, but that's different, even Mom said so.
"Shane Tadashi Hollander."
Shane's jaw shuts the second his middle name comes out of his dad's mouth.
Dad scrubs his hands through his graying hair with another weighted sigh. Shane feels like the biggest disappointment on the face of the Earth and before he knows it, he's crying. The tears slip hot and fat down his cheeks, landing in thick droplets over the table.
Then the front door opens, letting in a whip of cold air. Shane looks up on reflex as Ilya storms through the house, his face red and blotchy, curls a wild mane floating around his head.
"Kid—"
"David," mom warns, toeing her shoes off at the door, following Ilya up the stairs. "Don't."
Dad lifts his hands in surrender and says, without missing a beat, "So this is having teenagers…"
Shane sniffles, "I'm only thirteen."
And he remembers mom's words to Ilya in the car only last week. There's nothing wrong with being a thirteen-year old boy. Is this all being a teenager is? Feeling like a messed up disappointment? Making stupid mistakes because he's afraid of what everyone else might be thinking about him? Shane has a lot of stuff stacked against his favor. He's weird, for one thing, and he's half-Asian in a school where only one other kid is and he's half-Chinese with an actual Chinese last name, and Shane's short and always a half-step behind everyone. Always.
"Okay, kiddo. We've talked. What do you want for breakfast?"
Shane doesn't want to eat, his stomach is still all messed up from puking last night, but he murmurs, very quietly, "Eggs."
Dad's big hand lands atop his head, ruffling up Shane's sleep-mussed hair, "Eggs it is."