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    Summary

    Shane said nothing else. He just sat there, completely fucking numb, and watched with hot bile rising in his throat, as that first damned medic leaned over Ilya’s chest, hands locked, counting loudly, repetitively. He winced as he watched Ilya’s chest dip with every compression, his precious ribs probably cracking under the sheer pressure. There was a mask over Ilya’s nose and mouth, the same sweet, perfect nose that Shane liked to nuzzle with his own, the soft, pink - and helplessly parted - lips that Shane liked to kiss with his own. 

    “Dyshi, Ilya,” Shane was crying now, entirely fucking inconsolable as he watched the man he was engaged to marry lie on the ice, lifeless and cold and dead. “Dyshi, pozhaluysta. Breathe, Ilya. Please.” 

     

    shane hollander took a hit from cliff marlow years ago. he can't remember much of it.

    ilya rozanov takes a hit from one of shane's old teammates, and shane sees red. but it's not because he wants to kill jj. it's the blood pouring from ilya's nose and staining the ice.

    it's watching the love of his life die in front of him.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    38,678
    Chapters:
    4/?
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