Work Text:
It comes to him in flashes.
Blond hair, splayed across dark pillows.
Murmurs in a language he doesn't understand.
Lips, once open in a gasp, then a bright grin, then twisted into a frown, but always the same shape, the same shade of pink.
Laughter, loud and carefree.
And always, always that tugging feeling in his chest, the knowledge that he is still missing something.
Someone.
LILY
Ilya
Cna you come here please
Please
where is here
[location sent]
[Read 11:02]
Yuna is worried about Shane.
Well, she has been worried about him ever since the accident, but it has gotten better lately - he's insistent that he can still play hockey and he's got the skill on the ice to back up his claims, the doctors are happy with his progress (physically at least - they still don't want to make any definite comments on his amnesia), and despite his memory loss he seems to get on well with his teammates and friends, especially Hayden.
But today...
He's like a ghost, walking through the house on auto pilot, never speaking, barely glancing at her when she asks him something. He's carrying his phone around with him all day, she'd try to take it away from him but he hasn't actually looked at the screen much as far as she noticed. She tried to ask him whether he was waiting for a call, but isn't sure whether he even heard her, he hadn't acknowledged the question at all.
She'd be even more worried if he hadn't had instances of muteness in the past, though they had become infrequent after childhood. Yuna doesn't think that this is related to his injuries, at least not directly. That doesn't mean that Shane's behavior isn't worrying in its own right. Something's wrong with him, and how can she help him fix it if he won't tell her about the problem?
Maybe she has pushed too hard, pressed the issue too often. Shane snaps at her to "Shut up!", loud and angry in their otherwise quiet house. His eyes are blazing, his hands curled into fists as he sways forward just a little, getting into her space.
"I - sorry, I - I'm just trying to help you, honey." Never before had she been afraid of her own son. She still isn't, not really, or not really of him, just - afraid he might do something he'd later regret, while he is in whatever state he is currently in. Physically, he could certainly easily overpower both her and David, her little boy not so little anymore for many years now. But he has always still been her sweet child, even without his memories he had never acted any differently...
Stumbling backwards, Shane shakes his head, shakes his whole body like it is clinging to something painful.
"Shut. I can't. I can't, okay? I'm - it's so much, and I'm remembering - just leave me alone!"
"Okay, honey." Yuna whispers. Remembering. She withdraws back to her office, forcing her breathing to calm down. Oh, Shane. Of course he's overwhelmed if he's getting his memories back, after being confused about the last decade for so long. But this is a good sign, surely? Once he worked through the new-old memories, he'll be better. She has to hope that he will be better.
"Hey," David pokes his head into her office, giving her an encouraging smile. "I'm making tea, maybe Shane will have some if I put his cup down next to him. Did you want any?"
Oh, thank god for David and his practical thinking. She had entirely forgotten that Shane might not remember to eat and drink while he's so caught up in his own mind. Placing comfort food in his vicinity has sometimes worked in the past.
"Green tea, please. And get Shane a ginger ale, too?"
"Already did." They share a smile.
"He's remembering, he said." Yuna whispers. "Do you think - I really hope -" she doesn't finish either sentence, not even sure what she is hoping for. That Shane will be alright, of course. She knows not to bring up hockey though, David hadn't been in favor of Shane going back to the rink when the doctors wouldn't quite give him the all clear about the concussion. Yuna has been torn about it as well, of course she wants what's best for her son, not what's best for his career, but... Shane's whole life is hockey. She wants him to be alright, and she isn't sure he can be if he loses that.
David comes around the desk and leans down to give her a hug. "It'll be okay."
The doorbell rings.
Fast, loud footsteps from Shane's room to the front door.
A choked cry, she almost doesn't recognize her own son's voice.
"Ilya!"
When she and David peak out of her office down the hallway, it's to the sight of Ilya Rozanov standing in front of Shane, barely any space between them.
'What on earth...'
"You're such an asshole," Shane gasps, falling forward - into Ilya Rozanov's embrace, who catches him easily, presses his nose against Shane's hair as Shane buried his face against Ilya's neck.
"Why didn't you fucking tell me?!"
"I didn't -" Rozanov sounds just as chocked up as Shane does. He clears his throat, carefully rubs circles over Shane's back. "I did not want to make worse for you. Thought, you do not remember me, okei, is better if you don't have to deal with... With us."
"You don't get to fucking make that decision for me!" Shane snaps, still not letting go of Rozanov. "I fucking missed you, and I didn't even know why, and why the fuck would you - you're such an asshole!" He's crying now, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Yuna wants to go and comfort him, but she can't make herself move. Whatever it is that she is seeing in front of her, she knows she isn't a part of it.
Next to her, David is just as still.
Rozanov looks stricken.
"I did not - Shane, moy lyubov, I swear I did not know. That you - that, even without memory, that you would still -"
"Love you?" Shane croaks when he won't finish the sentence. "Fuck, Ilya."
Rozanov - Ilya, she can't keep using the last name of the man Shane is so very clearly in love with - makes a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob. "Shane - lyubleny - Shanya-" he tilts Shane's head up with a hand on his chin, peppers his face with little kisses, cheeks, forehead, nose, the freckles under his eyes. "I love you so much."
Shane sobs, fists his hands in Ilya's jacket and pulls him in for a bruising kiss.
"And why the fuck did you pretend to be some married woman?" Shane gasps against his lips. "Who does that?"
Ilya flinches. "I did not want you to know is me, and know you know you would not cheat with married woman, and you're gay, so. But... I had no other way to know you were ok. I try to stay away, for you, but when you text..."
His words falter.
Shane leans forward, his forehead landing on Ilya's shoulder. "I missed you. So much."
"Sorry," Ilya whispers, wrapping his arms around Shane, holding him tightly.
David tugs on Yuna's sleeve, trying to pull her back into the office. The movement draws Rozanov's eye, and between one moment and the next he is back to being Boston's most vicious attacker, his eyes cold and calculating as he - shoves Shane behind himself, steering him towards the door?
Shane blinks in confusion, then his gaze meets Yuna's and he seems to understand something.
"Hey - hey, Ilya, it's okay. They're not - my parents aren't like that. We're safe, I promise."
Yuna gasps. Shit, that isn't anger in Ilya's eyes, is it? It's naked fear, and his first instinct in that terror is protecting Shane from the perceived danger.
"You are sure of this?" Ilya's hands are shaking. His voice is flat, emotionless, worse than the mask Shane often wears when talking to the media (and, too often for Yuna's comfort, when talking to her).
She steps out into the hallway, tries to smile as reassuringly as possible. "It's nice to meet you, Ilya - can I call you Ilya? Why don't you come in - I'll, we'll put the kettle on, you can go get situated while we make some tea -"
She's not proud of the way she's fleeing, walking backwards already as she is talking, but if no child ever looks at her with so much fear in their eyes ever again it'll still be too soon.
Shane mouthes 'thank you' at her before she turns around to walk into the kitchen. Yuna suppresses a sob. Why would he need to thank her for, what, showing basic decency to his guest? After essentially spying on their private conversation, no less. They really should have gone back into the office sooner. Though maybe that would have startled Rozanov. Ilya.
What's done is done, anyway. No use crying over spilt milk.
David comes in after her a moment later, Yuna isn't sure whether he's said anything to the boys. Her ears are ringing.
"Fucking hell."
He pulls her into her arms, and Yuna tries not to hyperventilate. "Who hurt that boy so much that he'd think - and Shane, why did he never tell us, this clearly isn't new, they're in love David, what did we do to make him think he couldn't -"
"He said he knows we're safe," David murmurs soothingly. "Promised, even."
Yuna nods. Small mercies, to know that he doesn't think they're actually a danger to them. Jesus.
There's talking from the living room, first muted then a bit louder, finally a laugh.
Shane's laughter, louder than she has heard it in a while. Since before the accident, at least. She isn't sure whether she has heard him laugh like that since he was a child.
"He's happy." there are tears in her eyes again, but this time she is smiling through them.
Shane gives it a moment after his parents disappear into the kitchen before he tugs Ilya towards the living room. Ilya follows easily, tangling their fingers together. He looks around, curiously taking in the wide windows, the TV and the shelf full of books before turning back to Shane.
"You remember."
"Yeah, that's kind of what that was all about," Shane snarks, then wipes at his eyes in frustration when he realizes that the tears are spilling over again.
"You remember... Everything?" Ilya grips Shane's arms, to steady Shane or himself Shane doesn't know. The touch is grounding to him either way.
"Mostly. I mean, there's still gaps, I think? But it's not like I remember every single moment of every day in my life anyway, and I think I've got all the big things now..."
"Big things, yes?" Ilya smirks and pushes his hips towards Shane. The effect is kind of lost due to the redness of his eyes and the way his lip wobbles, but Shane still snorts.
"Asshole. But yeah, that too." He can feel himself blush, quickly changing the topic. No way is he talking about sex with his parents in the next room. "I meant like, the cups and all stars, and... the talk we had, while you were in Russia. And I actually remember the game and the hit now, I -" he trails off, his gaze going distant.
"Shane?" Ilya asks, worried, when Shane doesn't continue after a moment.
Shane blinks rapidly, staring at Ilya with something like wonder in his eyes.
"I remember wanting to ask you something, after the game... I was hoping you'd come to my cottage this summer, instead of going to Russia. ...why aren't you in Russia?"
"Was nothing there for me, anymore," Ilya shrugs, then grimaces. "Might still have gone, but... Couldn't leave you," he adds, because it's the truth, and because Shane deserves it after he kept so much from him these past weeks.
Shane's smile feels fragile, yet full of hope. "I remember hoping you'd be my boyfriend, maybe, if we spent the summer together." He bites his lip. "I really like you."
For a moment, Ilya is frozen, then his expression lights up, he beams at Shane like he is the sun. "I like you too. Think we covered this when I confess my love to you in hallway in front of Hollander parents..."
"Oh my god," Shane laughs. He's giddy with happiness and relief, and it feels so good to joke around with Ilya again.
"Yes, yes, so we are lovers now."
"Ilya!" Shane groans and pushes him away, Ilya let himself drop onto the couch in a theatrical swoon.
"We are not on ice, Hollander, you do not have to push me over!"
"You're still an asshole!" Shane complains, but he's grinning as he says it, and when Ilya sits up properly, he quickly climbs onto his lap.
"Asshole? I know you call me this all the time, but really? I say I love you and you say I am asshole?"
"Noo, I'm calling you an asshole because you still haven't agreed to be my boyfriend!"
Ilya tilts his head. "Lovers, I just said. Is the same, no?"
Shane grimaces. "It really, really isn't. Please don't say that in front of my parents, I don't want to talk about sex with them, like, ever." His dad tried to give him the talk once, after Shane had already learned way too much in several locker room conversations - and subsequent research sessions, because he wasn't stupid enough to trust those guys. He had cut the conversation short and was glad to never bring it up again.
"What? People move, are movers, act, actors, dance, dancers, skate, skaters, we love each other, but are not lovers? English is stupid!"
"Yeah, I guess," Shane snorts with a grin. "Sorry."
Ilya rolls his eyes and grumbles something in Russian.
Shane squirms a little. It's not like he is really worried that Ilya will reject him now, but still...
"Oh," Ilya looks at him, takes in his expression, smiles. His hand captures Shane's chin, forcing him not to turn away. "I will be your boyfriend, Shane Hollander. If you are mine also."
Shane smiles so wide, his cheeks kind of hurt. "Yeah."
Ilya's hand slides from Shane's chin to his neck, and then he's being pulled in, his eyes flutter closed in anticipation, shutting out all senses except touch and taste when Ilya's lips meet his, open and warm, so very warm.
"Fuck, Ilya," Shane gasps, wraps his arms around Ilya's neck.
Ilya's touch, a moment ago nothing but sweet, turns possessive, hands on Shane's back and his ass, and he sucks Shane's tongue into his mouth.
Shane can't quite suppress a moan.
Shit, he still doesn't want to have sex in his parents' house, but surely making out a bit is okay? They better knock before coming in, anyway.
He's breathless by the time they pull apart, and Ilya isn't looking much better.
"I missed you, Hollander." The last name doesn't hurt anymore, it feels gentle, like a cherished memory.
Shane wipes a tear from Ilya's cheek.
"I'm sorry you were alone, and I didn't even know," he sniffles. "Even though that's totally your fault for trying to let me forget you," he tries to joke.
Ilya huffs. "Will not make same mistake again," he promises. "You are not getting rid of me now."
"I'm glad." Shane smiles, and believes him.