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She is 98% sure Shane is gay.
The 2% stopping her is purely because Jessica, and even that actress, Rose, that Shane briefly dated. Granted, neither had her son acting like this: hooked on his phone, a smile tugging at his lips, relaxation in his limbs. David and her glance at each other on the couch, Shane seated in the middle, rapidly texting someone. All Yuna can see, if she leans in a little, is the letter ‘L’.
Yet.
One of the biggest reasons- something she probably should tell Shane but hasn’t yet found the time or courage to- is from last week.
Yuna had thought helping Shane unpack from his roadtrip would help relieve some of his stress- she knows how to fold his shirts, knows where they go in his wardrobe, which trousers go where, knows the little particularities. And by the time Shane is back from dinner with the Pike’s, at least three quarters of the suitcase would be neatly put away.
Maybe she should have first realised that Shane is an adult. Her adult son, who has a life that she does not know everything about.
In the zipped-up, side compartment of the suitcase, she stumbles upon condoms. Lots and lots of condoms.
And lube.
Yuna Hollander does what she does best.
That much condoms and that much lube - Shane must have been seeing this man for a while, must be comfortable around him if they’re this sexually active. Packed in his suitcase, which means they must have met during the roadtrip… maybe the mystery man had sat in the crowd and watched Shane play? Maybe they’d gone out together afterwards. Maybe, if the man could weave his way around work, he’d secretly accompanied Shane on the trip?
Shane being into men… is not that much of a surprise, is something her and David thought about together. Yuna stares at the ceiling in the darkness, thoughts racing. It must be past midnight now. Does Shane feel uncomfortable? At the thought of telling his parents? Is that why he never talks about relationships and hastily declines invitations to meet people? She would never forgive herself.
Yuna falls asleep around 2:00am, and wakes up bright and early, the sun looming heavily outside. If Shane ever invited his mystery man over, would they sleep in Shane’s childhood bedroom? Is it even big enough for two men? Maybe she should buy more throw pillows.
She grabs her phone from the nightstand and opens Google, ignoring the blinding white light in the dim room:
how to subtly show you are not homophobic without being obvious
Yuna huffs at the most basic WikiHow links and closes her phone, turning instead to David as he wakes, grumbling in the soft light. He throws an arm around her, thumb stroking her back, pulling her close. He has an aura of warmth that she can’t help but sink herself into, and has been her anchor for as long as she can remember. Yuna hopes Shane has found something like this.
“Are we homophobic?” she whispers.
David startles awake. “What? No.” He closes his eyes again on the verge of drifting back to sleep. “Yuna. If Shane is gay, we love him. If he’s not gay, we love him. If he’s secretly married to a lumberjack, we still love him.”
“A lumberjack,” she repeats faintly.
“Very sturdy. Good benefits.”
Yuna stares at the curve of David’s ear. There’s something strumming in her stomach, a bubbling cauldron. “What if he’s scared to tell us?”
David cracks one eye open. “Then he’s our son.”
Boston is playing New York on the TV.
Shane joins her in outrage whenever a player gets checked, receives an undeserved penalty, comments on the quality of the hockey played. There’s bowls of popcorn in their laps, water and ginger ale on the table, David in the armchair, half watching and half on his phone.
Unsurprisingly, Boston wins. Ilya Rozanov, she hates to note, is playing beautifully. He’s a dickhead, Shane’s biggest rival, and it is deeply irritating how he takes over the rink with a kind of relentless intensity, skating like the game owes him something.
It’s when Shane leaves that David turns to her. “Did you notice?”
“Notice what?” When hockey’s on, she notices very little else.
He checks to make sure the door is closed, and then lowers his voice. “Shane didn’t cheer the Admirals on. I watched him watch the match and he- he looked… he was smiling.”
Yuna raises a brow. “Smiling?”
“I think it was whenever the commentator mentioned Boston. He almost looked fond.” David stares thoughtfully at the TV. “Maybe he and Rozanov have lost that rivalry of theirs.”
“I highly doubt that. Shane hates the guy,” she says, because it’s the truth.
In bed that day, she realises that she has not considered the chance that the man Shane is seeing could be a hockey player. Is that why he’s so secretive about it - would others question if it’s wise to have a relationship with someone who’s also playing during the season?
So over a cup of morning coffee, she casually asks Shane about his teammates. Yuna’s eyes don’t stray from his face. It’s always the little things- a smile or a twitch in his lips or his eyebrows relaxing- that reveals Shane’s feelings. She just has to look carefully.
And nothing. He smiles when talking about JJ and Hayden- but Hayden is a very married man and JJ… Yuna doubts Shane is seeing JJ.
She sighs, maybe she’s missing something and it’s right under her nose. If it was a fellow Montreal player, how could Shane possibly keep it hidden like this? Her coffee is now cold. “Anyone you’re looking forward to playing this season?”
Shane shrugs. “Boston’s always good.”
Yuna hums, agreeing. There’s something electric when Boston and Montreal play each other. Probably something to do with the rivalry set up between her son and Rozanov, another reason probably due to the raw talent radiating from the both of them.
And when she looks at her son, there’s a very small smile on his face.
Well. Fuck.
The next time she notices anything, is when she and David are watching a Bears V.S Voyageurs game on the TV.
It’s Shane and Ilya for the face-off, as is expected. Usually, her eyes would be on her son, fingers crossed that he’d win the puck, studying the angles of his body, watching the small smirk his face always wears in these matches. This time, her gaze snaps to Rozanov, who’s saying something that the cameras can’t pick up. Probably a chirp, something rude, something to purposefully aggravate Shane. Her son used to say Rozanov’s chirps became something of a tradition on the rink.
What Yuna has never realised before, is that Shane’s small smirk appears on his face directly after Rozanov’s chirp. Shane’s lips move, and Rozanov’s response is a smile.
She’s suddenly seeing things she’s never seen before.
Like when Rozanov is in the penalty box for two minutes, and she can swear Shane is hovering closer than need be. This is perhaps not unusual, Yuna could very much be seeing something when there is, in fact, nothing. But on the next face-off, she squints and is pretty sure that Shane is… trying not to laugh? Does Rozanov usually make his opposing players laugh during a face-off?
And when Shane scores, the camera pans to the Voyageurs, and Yuna sees Rozanov distantly on the ice. He’s looking at Shane. She doesn’t know how else to describe his face other than… fond.
That night, Yuna is on a mission.
She finds a variety of the Bears’ matches on youtube, focusing mainly on the games against the Voyageurs. At first, she’s hunting for any other Boston players that Shane may be appearing close to, but quickly realises that the chances of him dating an enemy player is quite ridiculous, and an explanation for the copious amounts of condom and lubes is probably because the man in question is a fan of the Bears.
By 1:30am, her eyes are wide, and she is thinking something else entirely.
A deep-dive of Ilya Rozanov confirms what people say- he chirps, he aggravates, he smirks loudly and fiercely. While Shane skates like he has found his purpose, Rozanov skates like he has something to prove. Beyond that, she has discovered that, while he may occasionally chirp during face-offs, never has he said something to make his opponent laugh. The responses are usually a mouth twitch or an eye-roll or, if she’s lip-reading correctly, something along the lines of ‘fuck off, Rozanov.’
But the games against Montreal… it is truly interesting to see Shane’s expression in the play-offs throughout the years. It’s almost as if he looks less annoyed, and in the last few matches, it’s like she can see something like delight on her son’s face.
There’s something she’s missing, a piece of the puzzle that would make it complete. But David wakes up and drags her to bed.
A week later, as Yuna scrolls through the #IlyaRozanov tag on twitter. She stops at a particular image, where Shane and Ilya are bent for a face-off, but the person had paused the video to capture both of them looking up at the other. The tweet doesn’t have a substantial amount of likes at all, but the caption makes her blink.
atp I’m just waiting for hollander and rozanov to kiss and get it over with lmao #ilyarozanov #shanehollander #hollanov
Hesitantly, Yuna clicks the #hollanov tag. There aren’t many tweets, seeming to be a joke or not something people genuinely believe, perhaps increasing in quantity since the recent All-Star game. Her eyes remain glued to her phone, scrolling for forty minutes through slowed-down clips, zoomed-in screenshots, side-by-side comparisons.
Yuna has managed Shane’s entire career- every practice, tournament, interview. And somehow, only now is she discovering a subsection of the internet that’s mapping out a romance between her son and his rival in the early hours of the morning.
The bubbling cauldron in her stomach begins to spill over. The puzzle is, perhaps, maybe, complete.
My son is maybe having sex with another hockey player. My son is most likely having sex with his long-term hockey rival. Yuna swallows.
My son is 100% having lots of fucking sex with Ilya fucking Rozanov.