Work Text:
At nandito pa rin ako sa paraiso
(And I’m still here in paradise)
Pinangako na sabay nating binuo
(With the promise we built together)
Wakas (End), SB19
Tick. Tock.
Shane tosses and turns from where he’s sleeping on the side of the bed.
He’s been trying to get back to sleep for the past hour, but it’s proving to be very difficult at the moment. He’s never been like this - sleeping has always been an easy thing to do. Especially since it’s the beginning of a new season, when practices are grueling and long. He often goes home exhausted and ready to hit the sack. Why is it so difficult to do it today?
“Ugh.” Shane utters as he turns around again, reaching out his arm towards the other side of the bed, his hand landing on cold sheets.
Oh. Ilya must’ve left early for practice. He’s been working so hard lately - as captain of the Centaurs and one of the best and most sought after players in the league, the pressure is very high on him. His team recently acquired a new coach as well, and a few new additions to their roster; so while Shane was captain of the Metros himself, he knows that Ilya is carrying more burden than he does these days. So it’s understandable that he would’ve left early for practice and didn’t wake Shane up when he did so. He probably saw how exhausted Shane was when he came home last night and didn’t want to disturb him.
But now he’s bordering on awake. So much for getting his well deserved sleep.
Tick. Tock.
Shane rolls on his back and opens his eyes. This is getting annoying. He turns his head towards the table on his side of the bed and lets his eyes adjust to the darkness. However dark it may be, he could still see the framed photo that was resting on the table, the smiles of the two people gleaming in the darkness. Shane couldn’t help the smile that’s tugging on his lips as he reaches out to turn on the lamp next to him.
His and Ilya’s grinning faces greeted his vision. He grins right back at the photo.
Soft warm light now fills the room, making Shane’s eyes hurt and water a little. He raises his hand to rub them, wincing a little as he did so - his eyes feel a little puffy. He sighs and slams both of his arms on the bed, using that as momentum to sit up.
There was no use going back to sleep now, might as well start the day earlier than planned.
Tick. Tock.
He swings his leg and drops his feet on the floor, then peers at the clock perched on top of the shelf near him and sees that it’s almost 5 in the morning. He sighs but gets up and fixes the bed, carefully tucking the covers and pressing the sheets as straight as he can before he walks to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. He turns on the light and sees himself in the mirror. He looks absolutely haggard despite having slept, albeit just a little. There’s also bags under his eyes and dark shadows around them. He takes a deep breath then reaches out for his toothbrush, next to Ilya’s, and begins to brush his teeth.
Tick. Tock.
Shane washes his face next and winces again. His eyes really hurt a bit today. He looks at himself in the mirror again, worry etched on his face. He studies his eyes- they’re red-rimmed and swollen. He doesn’t seem like he’s developing anything concerning though, maybe just sore eyes or a stye. He sighs. He really needs to sleep more, but he has practice today and he absolutely cannot miss that. He shrugs it off for now and reaches out for a towel to wipe his face with. He should probably press some ice on his eyes to help calm the puffiness.
Tick. Tock.
He moves toward the kitchen to find ice and prepare his breakfast– not like he needs to prepare so much, as he’s still on his macrobiotic diet, but just the same, it would help pass the time. He opens the fridge and notes the stack of prepared meals inside. He and Ilya decided to make them so it’s easier when they’re in a hurry to get to practice. Ilya didn’t like them all that much, especially since they’re on the healthier side due to Shane’s insistence, but he’s been taking them nonetheless and that’s what’s important.
The stacks were still complete though. Ilya must’ve skipped his for the day, Shane thought, rolling his eyes. He’d talk to him about that later and also remind him that he shouldn’t waste food just because he prefers to eat a huge burger (or two) for lunch instead.
He takes some ice cubes from the fridge, places them on a clean towel he grabbed from one of the drawers, and gently presses it on his eyes. He feels the cooling relief immediately and then walks around the kitchen to prepare his meal.
Tick. Tock.
He fills the blender with everything he needs for his smoothie and presses start. He watches the ingredients morph into a jumbled mess inside the blender, colors mixing together, until they reach a smooth consistency - while alternating pressing the cloth on both of his eyes.
He feels absolutely exhausted and wants to crawl back into their bed, but he might oversleep this time around and miss out on practice.
That absolutely cannot happen, or coach will kill him.
The house is silent, save for the sound of the blender whirring in front of him. Shane places the towel on the table, presses the stop button, and pours the smoothie on an empty glass he pulled from one of the drawers. He takes a sip, makes a face (he really hates the way these things taste but he’s never going to tell Ilya that) and then gulps down everything.
An alarm sounds off in the distance, shattering the silence of the house.
He finishes his drink, places the glass on the table and runs toward his phone. He finds it on top of the shelf next to the digital clock. He swipes stop on the phone and Ilya’s grinning face comes up. He grins right back at his lock screen and checks the time.
6 AM.
Why he set his alarm way too early is beyond him. Practice is normally in the afternoons and he didn’t have to get to the rink before 1 PM at least. He tries to rack his mind for the reason but can’t come up with anything. Shrugging, he places his phone back on the shelf and decides to go for a run.
Outside, the air is a bit cold, perfect for the morning run. He decides to take a route he’s never taken before, letting the quiet morning settle around him. There’s not many people around yet, some are just about to wake up, there’s not many cars passing through this early and everything feels like it’s on a lull, except for the birds chirping in the distance and the sound of leaves dancing in the breeze. The sun isn’t fully out at the moment but it’s already casting a glow on the horizon.
He takes a few laps of this new route, not thinking of anything, deeply focused on his run. He decides to end his run as soon as the sun has settled in the sky. Drenched in sweat and panting, he goes back inside his apartment and checks his phone.
He opens his messages and sees that Ilya hasn’t messaged him yet.
Strange.
Actually, what’s even more strange is that it looks like Ilya hasn’t texted him in a few months.
Huh.
That can’t be right.
He surely texted Ilya just recently about something.
He resolves to messaging Ilya instead of waiting for a text from him. He taps on the reply area and is about to type in his first letter when his phone starts to ring.
Hayden’s name registers on his screen.
He swipes to answer and raises the phone towards his ear.
“What’s up, Hayd?” he asks, voice cheery.
“Hi… Shane.”
Hayden sounds careful.
Shane’s eyebrows scrunch. “How are you?” Hayden adds.
“I’m great.” Shane leans against the shelf, looking at the clock now reflecting 7:05. “Just finished my morning jog, actually. What’s up?”
“Oh. That’s… good.” A pause. “I’m just calling to check on you.”
Shane’s forehead creases. “I’m fine, Hayd.” He lets out a small chuckle. “What time is practice again?”
Silence.
Shane wipes the sweat at the back of his neck. “Hayd? You still there?”
“Yes!” Hayden’s voice comes out high pitched. He clears his throat. “It’s at 10. Yeah. Ten.” A short pause and then, “Are you coming?”
Hayden sounds unsure. Shane frowns slightly.
Why is he asking me this?
“Yes.”
“Really?”
He huffs a laugh. “Yes, Hayden, of course I’m coming to practice.” He shakes his head. “Why are you even asking that?”
“Oh. I—I just thought maybe—” Hayden trails off.
“Maybe?”
He takes a deep breath and exhales. “Nothing. It’s fine. I’ll see you at practice.”
Shane nods, amused. “Alright. I’ll be there.”
“Do you want me to come pick you up?”
“Hayd, I can drive myself.” Shane deadpans.
“Right, right. I just—okay, yeah. Don’t mind me. I’m just worried, that’s all.”
Shane shakes his head, smiling. “Worried about what?” He lets out a chuckle. “You’re being weird, Hayden. See you in a few hours.”
“Okay.” Another pause. Then softer, “Um… Shane?”
Shane straightens, alert. “Yeah?”
“You sure you’re alright?”
Shane laughs—full this time and relaxes. “Yeah, man, what’s wrong with you?” He runs a hand through his damp hair. “I’m absolutely fine. I’ll see you later.”
Hayden sighs. “Okay… okay. See you.”
He ends the call and stares at his phone.
That was weird.
Is Hayden alright?
Maybe something’s going on with him and Jackie. Or the kids.
Shane bites his lower lip as he stares at his phone.
Maybe he should’ve asked.
What kind of best friend was he, not even checking when Hayden clearly sounded restless—and unsettled?
He sighs. I’ll ask him when I see him.
He places the phone back on the shelf and heads for the shower, the thought of texting Ilya slipping from his mind as his worries about Hayden settles in its place.
As he cleans himself in the shower, his thoughts drift to divorce, to one of the kids getting sick, to something horrible happening to someone in Hayden’s family.
He eventually shakes his thoughts as he finishes his shower and steps out of the bathroom, a towel draped on his torso. He takes a peek in the mirror and sees that his eyes now appear normal.
The puffiness is gone.
Good.
Although he still looks a little tired, which was obviously from the lack of sleep. Promising he’d sleep when he gets some free time, he gets dressed and looks for his gear bag. He finds it all dumped in one corner of the room, looking like he threw it there. Raising his eyebrows he leans down and picks it up and sees the chaos inside it. His nose scrunches as he lifts some of the clothes inside, all of them dirty and looking like they haven’t been washed for months.
He frowns.
He takes everything out of the bag, carrying it gingerly towards his laundry hamper, and then goes back to his bag to clear it out.
Good grief. He must’ve been so exhausted these past few weeks he’s starting to become so disorganized. Ilya’s going to call him out on this one of these days, if he hasn't already.
What in the world is going on with me?
Taking a deep breath, he cleans the bag and organizes all the things he needed for their practice that morning. He looks up at the digital clock again and finds it’s already past 8 and hurriedly checks on his gear. After making sure that he has everything he needs, he takes one last look at himself in the mirror and runs down to the kitchen to grab 2 meal packs, placing them inside his bag.
He closes the fridge and takes a post-it note by the counter and decides to write something for Ilya. Just in case he comes home before he does, he doesn’t know how long the practice is going to take today.
He pauses, thinking, pen hovering on the note, then writes:
моя любовь,
Just at practice.
I’ll see you when I get back.
Let’s have pasta tonight?
I love you.
He sticks it on the door of the fridge and then places the marker back next to the post-it notes. There’s only a few left. Shane notes to buy more later, after practice.
He heaves his bag into place and exits the apartment, making sure it's locked securely. He places his bag in the trunk, gets into his car, and settles in the driver’s seat, then drives towards the practice rink.
* * *
The drive to the rink was uneventful, thank goodness. He was there with plenty of time to spare, so he could change into his gear before he entered the ice. He arrives at the locker room and finds it empty. His team must’ve already hit the ice. He drops his bag in front of his locker and changes into his gear as fast as he can.
He steps out of the locker room and heads straight into the rink.
He was right. The entire team was already there, huddled near the bench.
They all turn around as he approaches.
Shane stops in his tracks.
They’re all looking at him… surprised.
“Is there something…wrong?”
He looks at each of his team mates faces, noting the color draining from some of them.
No one speaks, they’re just staring at him. Some are opening their mouths, as if trying to say something but deciding against it. He could see their coach looking at him skeptically.
“Guys?” Shane starts again, worry creeping on his chest, “you all look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He says trying to sound amused though worry is clear in his voice.
“You could say that.” JJ, one of his bestfriends, says in disbelief.
Shane frowns at this. What?
He opens his mouth, surprised—and a little annoyed.
Their coach looks at him seriously and says, “Shane, you-”
“Are a little late today.” Hayden says, voice a little high, as he appears from behind one of their team mates. He looks a little panicked, one of his arms reaching for their coach as if to stop him from speaking.
Their coach turns towards Hayden’s direction, frowning a little. Hayden looks back at him and shakes his head vigorously.
Shane tilts his head, notices the exchange but doesn’t know what to make out of it, “Am I?” he asks curiously, “Didn’t you say 10? It’s not even 10 yet.”
Their coach swivels to face him, face clear, “We started at 9.” he says calmly, Hayden lowers his arm, face relaxing.
“Oh. Hayden said 10. I'm sorry for being late then.” Shane says forehead creasing, he looks at Hayden and lifts an eyebrow.
Hayden looks at him sheepishly, “Sorry?”
Shane shakes his head, “Sorry coach, I’ll make up for lost time,” he says, a little amused and a little irritated at his best friend’s mistake.
Their coach looks at him, all serious, “You better.”
Shane purses his lips and nods his head, “I will, I promise.”
The team immediately disperses after that. Hayden meets him at the entrance of the ice, looking apologetic. Shane shakes his head and pats his best friend’s shoulders as he enters the ice and immediately skates towards the middle.
JJ follows him and pats his shoulders, “Nice to see you again.”
Shane’s face registers surprise, “Sure, JJ.” he says amused, “It’s not like we haven’t seen each other recently.”
“Well, we-” JJ starts to say, but is cut off by Hayden who pushes him aside. JJ scowls at him. Hayden shakes his head vigorously, says something Shane couldn’t distinguish. JJ looks at Shane again, smiles and then skates away. Hayden shakes his head looking at JJ’s back and then swivels towards Shane’s direction.
“What was that about?” Shane asks, confused.
Hayden shrugs, “He’s just being JJ.”
Okay?
Their conversation is cut off as their coach calls for everyone to begin the practice. They take their places, and as soon as they begin, Shane feels exhilarated. He feels so very alive whenever he’s on the ice, like he’s flying sometimes. They do a few new game plays and Shane executes them easily. Coach looks at him pleased, nodding and even grinning at him whenever he does the move he’s been instructed to do. His teammates keep thumping his back, now looking at him happily. JJ playfully shoves him toward the boards—fails—and Shane skates away laughing.
He passes by Hayden who is looking at him with such a soft expression on his face. Shane grins at him and then playfully pushes him to the side as he circles him on the ice. Hayden tries to get away but ends up slamming into one of their teammates who catches him laughing.
Practice took a few hours, with their coach wanting to run the gameplays so many times until everyone had at least grasped it. By the time it ended, Shane felt like he was literally going to melt into the floor from exhaustion. They all proceed towards the locker room, with Hayden flanking his side, talking animatedly about what the twins were up to the other day.
Shane notes, relieved, that Hayden didn’t seem to have anything serious going at home. Actually, he seems to be in high spirits now, telling Shane so many stories as if he’s catching him up with whatever was going on with his life.
They enter the locker room and everyone takes their turn to shower. Shane passes by the board where the schedule of their games are normally posted. His eyes fly to the first one and grins.
They’re scheduled to face the Centaurs in their first game of the season.
“Shane?”
Shane turns around, grin still on his face as he faces Hayden who is looking at him with concern on his face.
“Yeah? Need anything?”
Hayden looks up at the schedule, then back on Shane, worry on his features. “You don’t have to, you know,” he says looking at him seriously.
Shane looks at him confused, “Don’t have to what?”
“Play.” Hayden says, “Against Ottawa.”
Shane frowns, “Why wouldn’t I want to play against them, Hayd?”
Hayden looks at him seriously, studies his expression, eyes scanning his face as if he hasn’t seen him for a very long time. His brows knit together, his breathing uneven.
Shane looks back at him, raising his eyebrows. What is wrong with Hayden today?
Actually - what is wrong with everyone today?
Hayden shakes his head, inhales and then shrugging says, “Nothing. Don’t mind me.”
“Are you alright man? You’ve been acting - strange today.” Shane says, raising his hand towards Hayden’s shoulders, squeezing a little. Hayden looks at his hand and then on his face, disbelief registering on his features.
He makes a funny face and then bites his lower lip, “Yes.” a pause, he looks at Shane seriously, “I’m fine.”
Shane nods slowly, looking unsure. “Okay, if you say so,” he says, giving Hayden’s shoulder a pat and then letting go.
Hayden nods right back which Shane finds amusing. He tilts his head to signal he’s going to the showers, which Hayden responds to with a thumbs up. He shakes his head and proceeds to take his shower and then dresses up immediately after.
The lockers were clearing up, with people saying their goodbyes to each other. Several of their teammates pats Shane’s shoulders smiling - they all seem really happy about his presence today, Shane notes.
He organizes his stuff inside his bag and then picks up his phone to check for messages.
Still nothing from Ilya.
Must’ve been a serious practice then.
He’ll probably text later.
They’re probably preparing for their first match against the Metros as much as the Metros are preparing for them. The thought excites him. He’s always loved playing against Ilya. He’s always sure it’s going to be a great time because Ilya matches his energy and his passion on the ice so well.
And even off the ice, Shane thought cheekily.
“Hey, want to have dinner with us?” Hayden says, disrupting Shane’s thoughts.
Shane shakes his head, “Nah, I can’t. I promised-” he stops, looks around and lowers his voice, “Ilya” he whispers, “that we’re going to have dinner together.” he finishes voice returning to normal.
Hayden frowns at this. “Shane, that’s -” Shane raises his eyebrows, Hayden breathes, “great.” he finishes, raising his hand to pat his shoulders.
Shane grins at him and then picks up his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow Hayd!” Shane says as he walks towards the exit of the locker room. Hayden purses his lips, giving him a small smile and a nod.
As he leaves the locker rooms, he sees Hayden bury his face in between his hands.
What’s going on with him?
He’d have to talk to him soon. His best friend is acting so weird and it’s very concerning.
* * *
He catches up with some of his teammates near the exit. They notice him and wave enthusiastically before disappearing to their own cars. At this point in his career, Shane’s already used to people being excited whenever he’s around - even his teammates who he’d known for quite some time now still get thoroughly impressed with him and act like don’t play with him on a daily basis. He doesn’t let it get to him though. He loves everyone on his team and treats them as his family. He takes it all in stride, grateful, and is happy that they appreciate him in whatever way they can.
He’s about to cross the pedestrian going to the parking lot when his phone buzzes in his pocket.
Thinking it’s from Ilya, Shane reaches for his phone excitedly and opens it to find a message from his mom.
Hi honey, dad and I are coming over for dinner. We’ve made your favorite.
He smiles at this and is about to reply to the message when he hears a voice across the pedestrian in front of him.
Shane looks up.
It’s Ilya.
He’s talking to his team mate, Zane Boodram. His face is all serious, listening attentively to whatever Boodram was saying.
Shane grins and takes a step.
Ilya turns around and sees him.
Shane stops.
"I can't do this anymore."
The grin on his face slowly disappears as Ilya’s eyes narrow, color draining from his face.
Boodram is still talking.
"Shane, I'm tired."
It feels like air got sucked out of Shane’s system as a flood of memories return in his mind in succession. He sees Ilya’s face—the one right across from him, panicked—and another, exhausted and broken.
His hand flies towards his bag’s handle, gripping it until his knuckles turn white.
Ilya.
And he finally sees what’s been wrong with his day.
It wasn’t Hayden.
Or his coach.
Or his teammates.
It was him.
He remembers his face looking back at him in the mirror this morning. Gaunt, with eyes swollen and red-rimmed from crying the entire night and for so many nights now. He could see his face staring right back at him, but couldn’t recognize or register the changes.
He looked lifeless.
He remembers the empty side of the bed - Ilya’s side. The sheets are cold because he hasn’t been home for months now. Shane has kept it empty in hopes that he’d come back and fill his space in their bed, in their home, in his life.
"It's killing me Shane."
He remembers the meals they prepared - Ilya sneakily trying to put chicken parmesan in them - left untouched in the fridge for months now. All of them expired, he’s certain—even the ones sitting in his car right now.
He remembers the post-its on the fridge. So many of them stuck on top of each other - green, blue, pink, yellow, orange, white - some slipping, some sliding and some already on the floor.
Ilya, I love you.
Ilya, come home.
моя любовь.
Please come back.
Don’t leave me.
Come home.
"I'm tired of being your secret."
I’m waiting for you.
I miss you.
I love you
“I can't love you like this anymore."
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
Across from him, Ilya schools his face into nonchalance and nods at whatever Boodram was saying.
Shane’s breath catches as his hand falls from the crushing grip he has on his bag.
He suddenly wants to turn around; go back inside the locker room and find Hayden, but Ilya and Marleau start walking and Shane, despite his legs feeling like lead, feels himself take a step forward.
As if magnetized by Ilya’s presence.
Ilya doesn’t look at him - he looks straight ahead.
As if Shane wasn’t right in front of him.
As if Shane wasn’t breaking right in front of him.
As if Shane did not exist.
Shane drags his feet and continues walking.
Ilya turns his head and smiles at Boodram.
So this is what it feels like to be ripped into pieces.
To exist and be acknowledged by everyone else except the one that matters.
Shane couldn’t help himself - he looks and looks and looks at Ilya’s face - trying to memorize the new changes in them.
He cut his hair. It’s shorter now. His curls, ever so golden, are in disarray.
He looks thinner.
He has a 5 o’clock shadow.
His smile, though genuine, did not reach his eyes.
"I think we should end this."
They were almost right next to each other now - Shane could smell Ilya’s cologne, the one he’s been chasing in the pillows he’s left behind.
He takes a deep breath as Ilya turns to look at him again.
And holds his gaze.
“I'm sorry."
Shane’s lip quivers - he bites his lower lip, openly staring at Ilya now. He can feel his eyes starting to sting.
No.
No.
No.
Boodram finally notices him, gives him a small smile and nods.
Shane nods, tries to smile but manages what he’s sure is a grimace.
Ilya notices the exchange, eyes narrowing a little and clears his throat.
“Hollander.”
Shane grips his bag, tries not to cry.
“Rozanov.”
The world feels like it is moving in slow motion. Shane was sure it is - as they pass each other, Ilya’s hand grazes his in the slightest of touches.
"I love you, Ilya Rozanov."
A tear falls down Shane’s cheeks.
He immediately reaches up to wipe his face.
He takes a deep breath and releases it - feels the quiver in his exhale and walks a little faster. He grips his bag again and stops himself from looking back. He could feel the skin that Ilya touched tingling, like it’sburning. He flexes his hand, trying to shake away the feeling.
He could hear Ilya and Boodram’s voice slowly disappearing as he reached the end of the sidewalk and walked into the parking lot. He stops in his tracks, trying so desperately not to look back, but gives in to the temptation anyway.
He takes a glance and catches Ilya’s back as he enters the doors to the rink.
The doors swing, revealing Ilya’s face as he turns towards Boodram’s direction and laughs.
Shane could almost hear it.
Then it was gone.
The door fully closes.
Ilya’s gone.
Shane turns and almost runs towards his car. He opens the door to the passenger seat and throws his bag inside, not caring what might break. He slips into the driver’s seat, starts the engine and drives out of the parking lot.
He drives away from the rink.
Away from Ilya.
He could feel tears finally falling down his cheeks - now, as he’s hidden from the world and in the safety of his car, he could break.
He keeps on driving.
He passes by buildings, houses, people - all in a blur. A part of him was afraid he was going too fast, but he really doesn’t care. He needs to get away, he needs to be as far away from everything as possible.
He needs to - he needs -
"I love you, Shane Hollander."
Shane grips the steering wheel and suddenly turns it.
He can’t do this anymore.
He parks the car somewhere - he’s not sure where - he’s on a highway, maybe, probably, he doesn’t know. There are cars zooming past him but he couldn’t care less.
His vision is blurry from the tears that are endlessly falling down his eyes, he looks ahead, at the road leading him away—away from everything, away from Ilya. And he could feel his heart breaking, as if it wasn’t already broken.
He desperately wants to go back to the rink and beg Ilya to come back.
To come home with him.
To come back to him.
He bows his head, resting his forehead on the steering wheel, could feel his hands shaking as a sob escapes his lips and more tears escape his eyes, falling now on the steering wheel and onto his lap.
His chest feels so tight he was certain his heart was bleeding and wondered why he wasn’t drenched in his own blood yet.
He could see the post-its he’s written, slowly falling down in his vision. His words scribbled on those tiny colored papers - his love etched on them waiting to be read by the one person who matters in his life more than anything and everyone else.
That one person who has left his life - forever.
Shane’s hand flies towards his chest, gripping his shirt, more sobs escaping his lips.
Everything hurts.
“Ilya.” Shane mutters through his sobs.
I love you.
He wants him to hear his words so badly - maybe - maybe he will come back if he did.
No Shane, he won’t.
Because Ilya is tired.
Because Ilya is done.
Because Ilya -
Is gone.
Gone forever from his life.
There was nothing left now.
Only memories.
And the pain that Shane would carry with him for the rest of his life.