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Shane was practically running off the stage the second his cue went. He didn’t listen for Ilya, whatever he was trying to tell him anyways. He just walked in whatever direction his legs carried him.
His ears felt hot, in the way they do when all the bloods rushing through his head and he can’t just think for a second. They were ringing too, his ears, and he hadn’t quite decided if the loss of hearing was actually comforting or just adding to the building panic that had been bubbling up all day long.
It had started in the hotel that morning, and he woke up just after his alarm. Sure, it wasn’t a huge deal, but it was annoying. His mom had him talking to sponsors and other various things that would help boost his career. He knew she only cared, nothing more, but it was overwhelming in a way. By the time he was in the awards venue, he was shaking softly, going over his short monologue in his head. Then, he stood and waited.
Every second Rozanov was late, was another second he started to worry.
What if he didn’t show?
What if he had to go on by himself?
But, he did show. 5 seconds before they had to go on a stage in-front of hundreds of people, probably more who were watching at home.
Shane felt like his legs weren’t going fast enough. He couldn’t get himself out of there any faster without tripping over his own two feet. He could feel his heart racing.
From what? He wasn’t even presenting anymore, he was off stage, and he was still having issues.
He found a bathroom, tiny, but it would have to do. Shane could hardly keep himself from standing at this point. He took a second to glance under the stalls, double checking absolutely nobody was in here. The last thing he needed was somebody catching him fully having a panic attack right now.
He tried to keep himself steady, tried to calm down. Maybe he should call his mom? She knew what to do. She always did. She was always that eerie sort of calm when things seemed like too much to handle. Or he could call Hayden? He would probably be a good distraction. Once he got on the topic of kids he wouldn’t shut up. He’d never really asked Shane why he’d call him randomly, seemingly out of breath, stuttering over his words so bad he couldn’t speak.
It was just an unspoken rule that they’d agreed to over the years. Shane would call, Hayden would help, that was that.
Shane had his first panic attack when he was 6. He’d been so worried about an upcoming hockey tournament, and his parents were trying to help him prepare so he wouldn’t be nervous. The morning of, his mom made waffles for breakfast. Big mistake. He strictly ate cereal before games. He’d freaked out, he cried, and hyperventilated into his dad’s shoulder while they desperately tried to fix things. He didn’t go to the tournament that day.
Shane had gotten the diagnosis when he was 8. OCD. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. it didn’t make sense at the time, but as an adult, it started to. He got some medicine, and he went to a therapist for 7 years, but over time he stopped. He got too busy.
Shane sank down to the floor, adding to the list of thoughts flooding his mind. Everytime was the same. logically, he knew that. He could breathe, he could calm down, but it felt to heavy to try and even attempt. He didn’t know his plan, he didn’t know who he should even begin to ask for help. He couldn’t move, he felt stuck on that floor.
The longer he sat there, the more he felt trapped. He knew he needed to do something. Call somebody, or at the least text. But his brain was saying to do it, and yet he wasn’t moving.
Then, the door opened. Not slow, like somebody who was being gentle. It slammed open like someone knew he was here.
and he did.
Rozanov.
Shane could see him, he recognized the jacket he had on, but other than that he would’ve been lost. He would’ve been a lot more than lost had he been able to think straight, and realize he was having a panic attack right infront of Ilya fucking Rozanov.
“Hollander, why are you doing this? we are not even on stage anymore.” He said, just looking at Shane.
God.
So now he suddenly cared? Typical.
He wanted open his mouth and give him a snarky response but he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t, couldn’t, come out. All he could manage was a weak head shake and what sounded like a somewhat heavy exhale, though considering he was hyperventilating, it wasn’t much improvement.
Ilya wasn’t sure why it was so shocking for him. He’d kind of assumed Shane was an anxious person, hell, he’d seen him literally freak out multiple times, but never like this. This was like a true panic attack. One he didn’t seem like he could really get control of. And for once, he was speechless for a second.
“Hollander, is just me.” He finally said, noticing the terror in Shane’s eyes, and it must’ve dawned on him that Ilya was actually there just watching him freaking out. “Is okay. is just us in here, yes?”
Ilya bent down slightly to check and look under the stalls because Shane wasn’t really a reliable source right now.
He sat down on the ground, opposite of Shane, quietly, treading carefully. Ilya didn’t really know what to do right now, and he needed to figure it out.
“Hollander, breathe. You will pass out if you do not breathe.” He said, watching Shane press his eyes shut, resting his head against the wall as if trying so desperately to calm down. and he was trying. He wanted nothing more than to calm down, and ignore this ever happened.
“You can go.” Shane finally managed out, and if it weren’t for the way his ears were stilling ringing making him unable to hear his voice, he would’ve been annoyed at himself. it didn’t sound confident at all. It more solidified that Ilya wasn’t leaving.
“You cannot breathe, and you are shaking. I am not leaving.” Ilya said calmly.
“I can breathe—“ Shane cut in defensively, though again, it didn’t sound confident. It sounded weak, like he was trying to fight it more than just accept it and calm down.
“Then breathe.” Ilya said, a bit softer this time. Though he’d never admit it, he was worried. Like a big amount. He’d seen Shane upset before, the man was a bit of a worry wort, sure, but this? god this was killing him to watch. He wanted to fix this for Shane, he wanted to be able to take all of it away and just let him relax and he knew that he couldn’t.
There was little progress in Shane’s erratic breathing. He’d leaned his head back against the wall again, pressing his eyes shut tightly. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart rate was pounding so hard he thought he could hear it. He didn’t know what to do. He’d never really been able to calm himself down on his own. He’d never had to. His mom, or his dad, or somebody had always helped him. And now he didn’t have anyone.
Well, he had Rozanov. But what help would he possibly be?
“Hollander.” His voice cut through Shane’s whirling thoughts. When Shane forced his eyes open, he saw that Ilya had moved to sit closer to Shane. Still plenty of distance between them, but close enough he’d be able to reach out and grab him. Not that he’d need to or anything of course.
“Come on. Like me, yes?” Ilya said, modeling a few breaths for Shane. He could see his eyes weren’t really reaching him. The words weren’t getting to his brain to make any sort of sense, but Ilya was entirely lost, so he just kept doing it until it clicked for Shane. “There you go. In through nose, out through mouth, good.”
He tried. He really did.
He inhaled, exhaled, over and over again until he felt like his throat was going to rip open. His shirt was too tight, and his shoes were too loud, his pants were scratchy, the lights were too bright. Everything was going horribly wrong right now.
“I can’t— i can’t— just go, please go.” Shane practically begged him. Spare him this humiliation for Gods sake.
“Shh. That is not breathing. You need to breathe.” Ilya said, as if it weren’t what he was clearly trying to do. Despite the confusion and Panic Shane was in, he could’ve sworn that Ilya was trying to be comforting. He’d expected teasing maybe, or even just telling him to get it together, but not this.
They sat there for a good 10 minutes before Shane calmed down. He didn’t realize it, nor would he for a while, but ilya had his hand gently running up and down Shane’s back, as if trying to help him stay in time with his breathing. When Shane pushed off of the floor to stand, Ilya followed.
“Good?” he asked, and received a small nod in return from Shane. “Good. Is good.”
”Yeah. Thanks.” He nodded softly again, looking down at the marble sink. “Sorry. I— normally i don’t do that.” He said, looking up. He met Ilya’s gaze, one he hadn’t seen on him before. He looked genuinely concerned, and trying to cover it up.
“No, Do not apologize.” He said simply, leaning against the wall slightly. He watched Shane collect himself, wiping down his face, and fixing up his suit. Trying to act like nothing happened.
“Probably should head back. Somebody will probably start to worry.” Shane finally said, already heading for the door. Ilya watched him go, the door shutting with a soft click behind him. He’d probably try again later at some point, try and talk to him, apologize for ghosting him or something. But he couldn’t now. not after that.