Chapter Text
Shane stared down at the plate of food that Jackie, his teammate's wife, had cooked for him and the guys. Usually, Hayden’s house was the one place where he could eat something cooked by another person without feeling uncomfortable.
Tonight, however, was not like usual.
None of the food laid out on the table were things Shane had eaten in years, maybe even in his entire life. He could feel the cold seeping into his bones that always came with eating something foreign.
Shane had, however, managed to put a couple things on the ceramic plate that he felt abided by his diet. Three strawberries and half of a sweet potato.
He frowned, maybe the potato wasn’t right, Shane didn’t usually eat them after all. Would Jackie be upset if he didn’t finish it? Shane pushed slightly at the orange mush with his fork; it didn’t look like anything he had eaten recently.
Yeah, this was definitely not right.
“Hollander, you okay?” Hayden asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m good.” Shane looked up from his plate. “Why do you ask?”
Hayden shrugged. “Your plate is looking a little sad, buddy. I know you’re on that... diet, or whatever, but I’m sure you can eat some of the ribs Jackie made.”
“I’m not hungry. The game got me pretty worked up and I think I lost my appetite.” The lie slid out easily and Shane attempted to smile at his best friend.
Hayden nodded and opened his mouth to say something more. But before he could get a word out, J.J. smacked his back and started talking to him.
Shane's heart settled slightly; whatever Hayden was trying to say, Shane had the feeling he did not want to hear it.
LILY: Are U busy?
JANE: No.
LILY: Let me come over.
JANE: Why?
LILY: Because. I miss you.
Shane chewed on his hoodie string and smiled. Ilya was usually the cure for days when he felt a little offbeat.
JANE: OK, see you soon.
As Shane climbed down his flight of stairs, he opened his fitness app to check his food log for the day. He frowned as he examined the entries. Everything looked as it should, no unusual foods or drinks. Shane had even met his protein level and hadn’t exceeded his calorie limit.
Why did he feel so off kilter then?
Shane’s previous reasons for feeling anxious had been food related, so he cut down on stuff that made him uneasy. It was one of the few things he could control in his life, and it felt good knowing he made the decisions about what went into his body.
Food was a good motivator as well. When Shane was younger and less... disciplined, he wouldn’t let himself eat until whatever shortcoming was fixed.
It might sound harsh, but hunger was a far better companion than failure.
Controlling his food fixed his panic and fear, so he really shouldn’t be worried.
But here he was, sitting in the stairwell waiting for his... waiting for Ilya and his stomach hurt in that achy way only anxiety could cause.
What was wrong with him?
Shane chewed on his fingers, maybe he was overreacting. It’s not like he was having a full-blown panic attack or anything. It was probably just left over adrenalin from his game earlier.
His phone dinged, pulling him from his thoughts and shoving him into reality.
LILY: I am waiting patently outside, Hollander.
JANE: *Patiently.
LILY: Fuck you.
Shane smiled, his former anxiety dimming slightly.
See? Everything was fine.
He stood, pushing the door open and letting Ilya in off the street.
“Hello there, Hollander.” Shane grinned at the prominent accent.
“Hey Rozanov, how are you?” Shane asked, leading Ilya upstairs to his apartment.
“I am okay.”
“Really? After a loss like tonight, I’m surprised you even texted me,” Shane teased, walking up the narrow stairs.
Ilya snorted and shoved Shane into the wall, bolting up the steps.
“I will not lose again, Hollander,” Ilya called behind him.
“Bastard,” Shane muttered under his breath and ran to catch up with his Russian hockey player.
“I will give penny for thoughts,” Ilya announced, breaking the silence they had cultivated for about an hour.
Shane smiled into Ilya’s arm.
“Who taught you that saying?”
Ilya sighed smugly. “Shane, I am native English speaker, I know all the sayings.”
Shane smiled. Ilya always switched to calling him “Shane” the later it got in the night. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he didn’t want to ask and ruin the whole thing.
Shane looked up at Ilya. “What do you want to know?”
“What are you thinking right now?”
“I’m just remembering how great it felt kicking a certain American team in the-” Shane’s words were cut off as Ilya smacked a warm hand over his mouth.
“I lie, I do not wish to hear anything come out of this mouth,” Ilya said solemnly.
“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Shane laughed.
He took a deep breath before continuing.
“I was thinking about how great everything’s been recently. Hockey has never been better, I’ve scored tons of brand deals, and there’s talk of me winning MVP. But...” Shane paused for a second and Ilya rubbed his shoulder encouragingly.
“But I can’t help but feel like I cheated my way into this, you know? I’m not as good as half the players out there, yet I’ve gotten this far? It just feels weird.” Shane decided to leave out the part where his brain felt like collapsing sometimes.
Ilya sighed.
“You sound ridiculous, Shane. The hockey people would not give awards and such if they did not think you were good. You have earned everything and trust me; you are best hockey player in league.” He paused. “Well, second best, I am number one of course.”
Shane rolled his eyes and snuggled closer to Ilya.
“You really think I deserve this?” He asked quietly.
Ilya nodded.
“Yes, Shane, I do. And I also think that things will only get more good, so you have to know that you earned it, or you will feel worse.”
Shane wanted to believe him. He really did. But something in his gut was telling him the exact opposite.
Shane really should have listened to his gut.
In a way, Ilya was right. Shane had gotten nominated (once again) for MVP and subsequently emails came flooding into his inbox.
Virtually every brand Shane could think of wanted to work with him and the media had even nicknamed him “Star Hockey Player.”
Shane knew he should be over the moon about this. All this publicity would only boost his fame and therefore increase how valuable he was as a player. This was good for his career but sometimes Shane wanted to melt into the background.
Honestly, he wanted to try enjoying his rise to the spotlight. Maybe he would have, if he had any time to think about everything going on.
Currently Shane was looking over his calendar for the next month and nearly every day was taken up either by an event or the time it would take traveling to an event. The only free time he had was going to be taken up by practice or working out.
Shane was beat. Completely and utterly exhausted.
He hadn’t seen Ilya since the night he encouraged Shane to accept his success, and they had barely texted over the past two weeks. Shane knew this was probably good considering how dependent he had gotten on Ilya recently. He didn’t think it was healthy to miss someone this much, especially considering the fact that they weren’t even dating.
His alarm went off, jarring Shane from his thoughts. It was five p.m., which meant he needed to get ready to have dinner with his parents.
He was meeting with them to discuss his upcoming brand deal with Rolex. Well, mostly he was meeting with his mom, who handled the business side of his career.
Shane stood up from his couch and stretched, cracking his back, and walked into his bedroom.
Undressing, he looked in the floor length mirrors and frowned.
Shane knew he was muscular; most hockey players were. But he couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable with his naked body. The curves and indents formed by his muscles made his skin crawl and hands twitch.
Shouldn’t his body be smooth and symmetrical?
Shane ate right, worked out five days a week, and played hockey. All things considered he was doing things perfectly.
So, why wasn’t his body perfect too?
Shane’s eyes burned with disgusted tears. This was why he had no choice in his life; the one thing he could control was completely broken.
Swallowing, he ripped his eyes from his reflection and snatched the nearest dress shirt. Buttoning it swiftly over his torso.
Shane’s heart pounded slightly as he yanked on his pants. His unease only increased as he picked up his phone and saw three missed calls from his mom.
Immediately, Shane dialed her back and waited barely a second before she picked up.
“Shane! Where have you been? You’re half an hour late for dinner; this isn’t like you. Is everything okay?”
Shane tried to process this information.
He was late? Shane was never late. Besides, they were supposed to eat at six-thirty, and it was half past five.
“Mom, what do you mean? It’s five-thirty, there's still an hour before I have to get to the restaurant.”
Yuna paused on the other line.
“Shane, dinner started at five sharp. We picked the time last week, remember?”
Shane felt his stomach drop, with everything going on recently he must have gotten it mixed up. His throat closed up; this was not normal. Shane Hollander was one of the most controlled, disciplined, and responsible people ever. He didn’t get dinner times mixed up.
Absently, Shane realized he was still on the phone with his mom.
“Sorry, mom, I lost track of time I guess.”
Yuna sighed softly.
“It’s okay, just get here soon, okay?”
“Sure, goodbye.”
Shane’s hand twitched slightly and he felt light-headed. Why was he so uncoordinated recently? What was wrong with him?
Swallowing hard, he stumbled to his front door and down the stairs.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, he managed to flag down a cab to drive him to the restaurant.
The whole ride to meet with his parents, Shane kept running through everything that had been going wrong recently. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, but it was hard to stop once he started.
When the cab pulled up to the restaurant, Shane handed the driver a wad of paper, not bothering to count and stumbled slightly to the entrance.
Walking into the warm, crowded building felt like entering Hell.
Shane swallowed and looked for his mom.
“Shane!” A voice called from a booth near the back; His mom.
Hopefully it wouldn’t be so loud back there, Shane thought as he made his way to his family.
Immediately after he sat down, Yuna shoved a plate of lasagna in front of his face.
“Since we’re running a bit behind schedule it’s probably best if we skip the updates tonight, yes?” Yuna didn’t pause before jumping into the rundown of the photoshoot.
Shane felt a bit bad for tuning her out, but everything she was saying was already in the email Rolex had sent. Shane decided to focus on the food set out, instead.
Clearly his parents had ordered for him when he didn’t arrive on time.
Besides the lasagna under his nose, there was a glass of wine, soup, and a side salad.
The only thing in front of him that didn’t set off alarm bells was the salad, so Shane reached for that first, pushing the messy lasagna away.
The first bite of salad Shane took was fine. It was clean, expected, and neat.
However, after he managed to swallow it, Yuna mentioned how late Shane had been and how unusual it was.
His second bite turned into ash between his teeth. All he had heard coming from his mother's mouth was “unusual.”
A normal word. Perfectly fine, really.
But Shane grew up in a world where “unusual” was a direct synonym to failure.
Failing was his worst nightmare. Who was Shane Hollander without success?
Shane stood up abruptly and gripped the table. His chest was pounding.
“Shane?” David asked, “Are you okay?”
He nodded in response.
“Yeah, yeah, just... just need to use the bathroom.”
Shane pushed his chair back and bolted to the bathroom.
Failure.
Shane, you are a failure.
Everything in Shane's body hurt. His throat itched and his fingers tingled.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
He barely managed to make it into the bathroom and immediately locked himself into a stall; sliding down the door and sitting on the floor.
Shane’s stomach felt dirty, why had he eaten that salad? He knew he didn’t deserve food, he was a failure, and failures didn’t deserve to eat.
Shane was shaking as he knelt in front of the toilet; he didn’t want to do this.
His whole body was screaming at him to stop, but he knew he had to stay disciplined somehow.
A sob escaped his mouth as he shoved two fingers down his throat.
Clean. He wanted to feel clean.
You are what you eat.
Sometimes the spotlight felt a little too much, maybe Shane wanted to try being nothing for a change.