One.

From her seat, Yuna can see the agitated twist of Shane's lips and the deep line between his brows. He has his foot up on the bench in front of him and he's tugging at the laces of his skate with a lot of force. He's recently mastered lacing and tying his own skates up so she had been letting him deal with it himself but there is something there. Something off, and it hurts her heart just a little.

She gathers her bag and makes her way to where Shane is sitting and grunting at his skate. His face is red and when he glances up at her, she can see the build up of unshed tears in his eyes.

“Hey, hey. What's the matter?” Yuna asks, crouching in front of the bench, dropping her bag to the floor.

Shane looks at her with his wide, wet eyes and he opens his mouth but the only sound that comes out is a crackling gasp of air. Shane has always been on the smaller side and, true, he was only six but as he stares up at her all Yuna can see is her precious little baby. She reaches out and gently pries his hands from his laces and folds them with her own.

“Squeeze,” she instructs softly.

And he does. Shane squeezes her hands tightly to the point that it hurts just a little, but she grins and bares it. “Breathe, honey. In, and out,” she murmurs, squeezing Shane's hands back.

He tries. He really tries. And Yuna demonstrates, taking her own steady breaths until Shane is a perfect mirror of the action. His chest rises and falls in an easy rhythm, and the flushed color in his cheeks slowly begins to fade.

“What's wrong?” she whispers softly as Shane's grip on her hands begins to lessen.

Shane sniffles.

“My skates. They're too loose. I can feel my feet moving and I can't get it right,” he explains. His voice is soft, and tired, and wet.

Yuna lets out a long breath of air.

“Let's take them off, okay? I've got some thicker socks in my purse. That should help.”

Shane nods, and allows Yuna to unlace his skates to pull them off of his feet. She digs in her bag for just a moment to produce a pair of thick black socks. She easily slips them over the socks that he is already wearing before putting his skates back on. She stands in front of him, braces his skate between her knees and helps to tighten them.

“Better?” she asks, holding the laces in her hands.

She can feel his foot wiggle slightly in the skate, but a wobbly little smile spreads across Shane's face.

He nods, “Better.”

Yuna finishes tying the skate, and moves on to the next. When she is done she crouches down in front of Shane, smiling softly up at him. “You ready to skate?” she asks, squeezing his hand.

“Ready,” he says confidently.

When he moves to stand, Yuna gets up and out of his way. She watches him grab his stick before heading off toward the ice. Something in her chest twinges painfully at his little silhouette against the stark white rink. She knows that hockey is a tough sport and her son absolutely adores it, but sometimes she can't help but worry for her sensitive little boy who feels so much that it leaves him voiceless and tearful.

Two.

The first crack of a firework echoes loudly across the lake, and the sky is filled with fizzling golden sparkles and shimmer and fall back to the ground. The air is warm, the drinks are cold, and the desserts are sweet on Yuna's tongue. She leans back in her chair, watching another firework shoot off toward the sky, letting out a content sigh.

Canada was something special to her. Her parents had loved being able to celebrate and really feel at home in their new country, so she always had a warm spot in her heart for the summertime festivities.

There is music being played and children shrieking as they play tag in the dwindling light.

Looking over, Yuna pauses when she sees the chair beside her is empty. Shane had been sitting there, enjoying his strawberry shortcake, just a few moments prior. She sits up, eyes scanning the yard down to the lake and then back up to the house. She can barely make out the dark shadow of her son through one of the windows.

“I'll be back,” she says, patting David on the knee.

Yuna pushes herself up from her chair and turns to head back up to the house. Shane is standing at one of the large windows, staring out over the lake, with his hands covering his ears.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks, walking into the living room.

Shane flinches but doesn't remove his hands from his ears. He's eight now, still not much bigger than he had been at seven, or six. “It's… so loud outside,” he mumbles, not looking at his mom.

Yuna hums and takes a seat in the armchair beside where Shane is standing. “You know, you used to say that the noise of fireworks or the ocean scared your ears,” she says softly, smiling at the fond memory.

“I'm not scared,” Shane grunts defensively.

His shoulders are tense and his jaw is clenched. Yuna sighs. “I didn't say you were,” she reassures.

Gently, she reaches out and wraps her fingers around Shane's elbow. She gives a small turn which has Shane stumbling over to her. He climbs into her lap without a word, laying his head against her shoulder. Yuna smiles, moves Shane's hand away, and lays her own over his ear to press gingerly keeping one ear against her shoulder and the other covered. His whole body slumps.

They stare silently out of the window at the flashing lights and sparkling fireworks.

“The lights are pretty,” Shane murmurs.

Yuna nods and presses a gentle kiss to the flop of dark hair on top of his head. She is glad that he can enjoy this, in his own special way. And maybe selfishly, Yuna finds herself wishing for him to stay this small so that she will always be able to make space for him in her lap and shield him from whatever is distressing him.

Three.

The front door being slammed open is the first indicator that Yuna has to her son's mood. The sound of a hockey bag clattering to the floor and sticks falling all over is the seconds. She can hear David saying something but then there are heavy footsteps and Shane is stomping into the kitchen.

Yuna looks up from where she is making tea to look at Shane as he enters.

He's a bit taller now at ten years old but still scrawny. Her mother often calls him a little chopstick which she knows gets on Shane's nerves. His hair is still wild from his helmet and his face is pinched. Before she has a moment to ask about practice, Shane barrels into her and presses his face into her stomach. There are wet patches from tears beginning to form on her shirt.

David enters the kitchen behind Shane and looks just as bewildered as Yuna feels.

Wrapping her arms around Shane’s shoulders, she squeezes him closer to her. “Long day?” she asks, keeping her voice low. Shane nods jerkily against her. “Loud, too?” Her only reply is another nod.

This has been happening more and more often. Sometimes things just get too much for Shane and by the end of the day his nerves are rubbed raw. Yuna can commiserate, she often longs for a quiet moment alone after a long day of dealing with other people.

With a soft exhale, Yuna ducks enough to wrap her arms under Shane's thighs and hoists him up. He is dead weight against her, limbs hanging loose and his head falling against the crook in her neck. She keeps one arm under his bottom and the other wraps around his waist as she twists to brace herself against the counter.

This was easier when he was much smaller, and part of Yuna can't help but worry when the last time she'll be able to do this will be.

She lays her head against Shane's and sings softly under her breath, “You'd think that people would've had enough of silly love songs. But I look around me and I see it isn't so. Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs and what's wrong with that?”

Continuing to hum, Yuna rocks gently from side to side in an old familiar motion that used to make baby Shane fall asleep instantly. She can feel his breathing level out and the tears stop falling against her neck. She lets out a soft breath and relaxes against the counter, rubbing soothing circles on Shane's back.

“I love you, Mom,” Shane mumbles.

Yuna's heart clenches and she holds him tighter, “I love you too, sweetie.”

Four.

For years, all Shane had ever wanted to do was play hockey. Ever since he wore his first Timbits jersey all Shane could talk about was being a professional hockey player. Yuna and David did their absolute best to support his dream and get him where he always dreamed of being. Which is how they found themselves in Los Angeles for the NHL draft.

Yuna couldn't be prouder of Shane and all of his hard work. But as more and more people wander over to speak to Shane and congratulate him on being the second overall pick, for going to play for Montreal, Yuna can see the far off look in Shane's eyes. She can see the flex of his jaw like he's trying to say something but can't force the words out.

Handing her glass to David as they are finally left alone, Yuna gently lays a hand on Shane's bicep. He doesn't say anything as she leads him away from the noisy hall, but when they enter a quiet corridor outside his shoulders visibly relax.

“Hey. Are you okay, honey?” she asks softly, gently brushing some hair from his forehead.

Shane nods stiffly as he stares at the floor.

Without a word, Yuna reaches into her purse to pull out an Altoids tin. When the lid is popped open, Shane's eyes cut up from the spot they'd been fixated on. She holds the tin out and Shane carefully picks up a mint, and places it in his mouth. He takes a few deep breaths in through his nose and exhales heavily.

Yuna smiles, putting away the mints, “Is this disappointment or just a long and loud day?”

“I don't want to be ungrateful,” Shane mutters through gritted teeth.

“It's not ungrateful to be a little disappointed, honey. You wanted something and it didn't happen the way you planned. That's frustrating,” Yuna says in a smooth and soothing voice, squeezing Shane's shoulders. “But, you are going to be a Montreal Voyager. You are going to play professional hockey just like you've always wanted. Plan changed a bit, but the outcome is still good.”

Shane nods and swallows harshly, finally looking up at Yuna.

“Still good,” he replies.

Yuna can tell that he is forcing the smile on his face. It's too rigid and wooden to be genuine but it is all that Shane can muster in the moment. So it is good enough.

Five.

Yuna is trying to mind her business, she is.

But, in a way, Shane is her business.

It hurts her heart to see him upset even if he is a grown man and no longer a frustrated child tugging at his skate laces. She watches the way his leg bounces under the table and how the string of his sweatshirt is soaked and fraying from being ground between his teeth. His hair is a wreck from fingers pushing and pulling at the strands.

He's been on edge since the season ended.

Since he got back from the NHL awards where Rozanov had beaten him.

Yuna walks over to the light switch on the wall and flicks it off. Of course Shane's apartment has huge floor to ceiling windows but the natural light is probably better than the overhead lights. Shane's head snaps up from his laptop and he stares at Yuna with wild eyes behind his glasses.

“It's time for a break,” she says, walking over to close the computer.

Shane opens his mouth to complain but Yuna holds up a hand to silence him. “You can reply to the emails later. You need a break. Go get a blanket and lay down on the couch. I'll make you something for lunch and you can relax,” Yuna says, already shooing him from the table.

“You're going to cook me lunch?” Shane asks with a disbelieving laugh.

Yuna narrows her eyes at him, “If you don't want katsu-don just say so.”

Shane's eyes widen, “No! I do. I do want katsu-don.”

“So go lay down,” Yuna laughs, nudging Shane toward the couch.

She watches as Shane grabs a heavy blanket and curls up on his sofa. He is suddenly not a 23 year old man who has won an Olympic medal and numerous other accolades. No, he is her tired and overstimulated son who just needed permission to let his nervous system relax.

As she turns back to the kitchen to make one of the few dishes she can, she wonders briefly if she'd still be able to pick him up and sing Wings to him as he lays against her chest.

Maybe she should be going to the gym more often.

+1

Yuna recognizes it right away. The far off look in Shane's eyes and the stuttering breath getting caught in his throat. It's an all too familiar scene as he bends and presses his forehead into the table in the valley of his folded arms. Slowly, Yuna lowers her fork back to her plate. She is prepared to get up from her seat and talk him through it when she is beaten to the punch.

Ilya Rozanov lays a gentle hand on the back of Shane's neck, squeezing and rubbing there as if it is where his hand belongs.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey. You are good here,” he speaks softly, leaning closer into Shane's space. He momentarily glances up to make eye contact with Yuna and she feels her heart clench beneath her ribs. “Your family is here.”

It has always been Yuna helping Shane down from these moments. It is strange to watch someone else take the reins and know just how to handle Shane.

“Your boyfriend is here. We're good,” Ilya says, like it is the most simple thing in the world.

Slowly, Shane lifts his head and peers back at the other man. “My boyfriend?” he asks with a hint of boyish innocence in his tone. Like he didn't drive Ilya Rozanov over to her house and announce that they were in love less than an hour ago.

“I think so. Yes, probably,” Ilya replies. He leans in, lifting Shane's head with delicate fingers under his chin, and kisses him sweetly.

Yuna feels tears in her eyes. She has spent more than twenty years loving and protecting Shane with her entire heart, and now he had someone who could do that when she wasn't around. He had found someone he trusts completely with all of the sharpest and ugliest parts of him that Yuna knew he struggled with.

She almost felt bad for wishing for his downfall during every season.

Especially now that she knew the truth.

“Since rookie season,” she breathes out in disbelief, fondly shaking her head.