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Summary
“Hollander.” Ilya said, with some panic creeping in to his voice, as he watched Shane’s eyes flick everywhere all at once. Ilya lifted an arm, and let it go just over Shane’s own thigh. It came down, with no resistance to the drop.
Still pinning him up with one hand, he squatted on the locker room floor just in front of Shane. “Have you seen this before, Coach?” Ilya asked. He surely hadn’t.
“It’s new to me, Rosanov. I think I have to get medical involved. Can you watch him until I get back?”
“Please hurry.” Ilya sat back next to Shane on the bench, one of his one legs over Shane’s, and one hand lightly on his neck to keep his head steady. His other hand ran the largest circles he could on Shane’s back. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but maybe this was a panic attack.
or
Shane has an unusual health emergency, and Ilya does his best to make Shane comfortable through it all.