Work Text:
He could do this. He knows he can do this. He’s the Captain. It isn’t a big deal.
That was a lie.
It was a huge deal and Shane Hollander was doing everything he could not to throw up.
Shane and Ilya had a plan. They were going to be together, Ilya was going to switch to Ottawa and eventually they would be together. Now that they were officially a couple planning a future, Shane was tired of hiding. He was exhausted by his teammates constantly teasing him and trying to set him up on dates with women. After discussing it with Ilya he decided the easiest thing to do was start the season with coming out to his team. Start living more authentically. Well, as authentically as he could while still keeping the love of his life a total secret.
There was just one major issue. Hockey was still homophobic, and a lot of the guys on the team had used that kind of language as jokes for years. Shane never had and he tried to keep it to a minimum when he was around but it was a delicate line. As captain if he got too upset by the “jokes,” it would raise questions on why. Shane Hollander didn’t really care about anything that wasn’t stats and winning, he was laser focused. Policing chirps and locker room talk wasn’t what he was known for. He was known for being quiet and obsessed with hockey. When he became captain he had been too much of a coward to say much beyond “knock it off” if the talk became too much or didn’t end after one stray comment.
That reluctance to pick a side was biting him in the ass now. Training camp had started, everyone was back and getting their bodies used to intensive training programs, hours on the ice in practice, and sitting in the tape review room going over strategies. Everyone was on a high from the time off and riding that optimistic wave of a season not yet started. Shane knew it would be easier to come out now than it would be on the road somewhere. He needed to do it soon.
Every night he texted or FaceTimed Ilya, he would ask if Shane had come out and every time he would blush and make an excuse. Ilya was starting to doubt him, Shane was worried it was making Ilya doubt them. The truth was, Shane had never been more sure of anything. He just knew this was going to really suck.
Hayden knew. Hayden had been hard, but he had done it. JJ knew. JJ felt betrayed but had quickly pivoted to trying to set him up with dudes which wasn’t much better than trying to set him up with random women, but at least he knew JJ wasn’t homophobic. There were a lot of guys on the team Shane wasn’t sure about though.
He decided he was going to do it today. Before practice. They were all gathered in the locker room, he was going to stand up and make a team announcement and then practice would be the distraction needed to put the issue to rest. Which is why Shane was now sitting in his gear with his helmet next to him taking deep breaths and trying not to vomit. He only had a few minutes before guys would start wandering out of the locker room towards the practice rink and he needed to man up and do this.
Shane stood up and grabbed his helmet and raised his stick up to grab everyone’s attention.
“Listen up!”
Everyone stopped putting on gloves and helmets and turned towards their captain.
“I have an announcement before we hit the ice. I just…uh…” Shane was looking at each of his teammates in turn and felt himself shrivel a little on the inside.
His eyes met JJ’s and his friend smiled and nodded. Then he glanced at Hayden who just pressed his lips together and nodded. Guess that was the most he could hope for from them.
“I wanted to let you all know that I’m gay. I have been forever and it doesn’t change anything but just needed you to know. Ok? Let's go.” Shane really wanted to be done now. He had ripped the band-aid off and he just wanted to be on the ice.
There was a tense silence for a minute as players looked towards their best friends and started murmuring to themselves. Shane started to put his helmet on and take a step towards the door.
“Wait! Captain! You can’t just drop that and ditch! You serious?” That came from the corner, Miitka. He was standing there confused with his helmet in his hands.
“Yeah man, you dated Rose Landry! You’re a legend! Rose fucking Landry and now you’re suddenly gay?” Drapeau, the goalie, was stretching on the floor and shaking his head.
Shane hung his head. “Look, I just wanted to say something so you can stop trying to set me up with girls. I’m good. I don’t need anyone's help. I’m just tired of living a lie by keeping it a secret. It wasn’t even like a conscious choice to keep it a secret. I got drafted young before I figured it out, realized I was gay, tried to date Rose and realized I’m really gay and then by that time… I don’t know, it just didn’t seem like anyone’s business.” Shane shrugged.
“So why now then?” Miitka asked with a frown.
“I can’t even really tell you, just felt like it was time. I’m still the captain and I still play hockey the same. We are still going to go out there and try to win another cup this season. But you’re my team and deserve the truth.” Shane rubbed at the back of his neck, tugging at the hairs at his nape.
This whole conversation made his skin prickle with unease. He was waiting for the explosion, the slurs, the tempers to flare. He felt exposed. Raw. There was a buzzing starting in his brain that was starting to get overwhelming. The air felt thicker. His skin was crawling and itching. His body was screaming for movement but he knew it would look weird to others to pace or fidget so his brain started arguing with itself about holding still. One voice was telling him to stand straight, keep his shoulders back, and be solid. The other wanted to drop everything he was holding, pull his hair, rock or shift his feet, flee the room. Anything other than stay here under such intense scrutiny.
He may play in front of thousands, millions if you count everyone watching on tv. But he wasn’t aware of it in any real sense when it was happening. He was focused on the puck, his blades, the other bodies on the ice coming for him, looking for openings, watching for shift changes. Everything else was noise and blurred at the edges. Right now in this room he was standing on a stage with a spotlight on him and he hated it.
Murmurs had started. Side conversations. People were putting heads together and processing. Shane really needed air. The buzzing was getting louder. He had said what needed to be said, there really wasn’t anything more to discuss. His heart was starting to raise and he felt sweat starting to bead onto his skin. He was starting to have a panic attack or something.
He used to get like this as a kid sometimes. No matter how hard he tried to stop it, his brain just didn’t know the difference between being overwhelmed or being uncomfortable versus being in actual danger. It was a hard cycle to break once it started and he wasn’t always successful. It could take hours or sometimes it lasted until he passed out for the night. He’d wake up the next morning feeling more himself but tired. He wanted Ilya. He wanted his bed with comfy blankets, a dark room, the white noise from a fan spreading cool air around the space and most of all, quiet.
Maybe it was a mistake to do this at the beginning of practice. He should have done it at the end, but then everyone would be showering and that had felt more awkward. At least if it was at the end of the day he could flee back home and FaceTime Ilya. Just hearing his voice and seeing his face would be better than this. Although if this feeling started to build he wasn’t sure that was going to be enough. He needed to feel his arms around him and breathe in his scent. Hear his heartbeat beneath his ear. Why was he doing this now? He should have done this the first time they played Boston so he could have Ilya after! God he was an idiot.
Shane had been staring at the floor still tugging at his hair at the base of his skull, shoulders slumped as the conversations had grown louder and louder. Hayden and JJ had started to shift closer and while somewhere deep in Shane’s brain he knew that was a protective instinct it just made the crushing weight he was feeling grow heavier. There was too much noise, too much pressure, too much attention. Everything was slipping out of his control. This was supposed to clear the air, not make things worse. His breathing picked up.
Hayden reached a hand out and put it on Shane’s shoulder. He had seen Shane in the middle of one of these episodes before over the years. Usually in the safety and privacy of their shared hotel room. Shane hadn’t had a bad one in a long time but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen. Shane knew Hayden could see the war inside happening by just looking at his face.
“Whatever. Can we stop talking about this now? We have practice,” Comeau sneered as he started striding to the door of the locker room, walking right into Shane’s shoulder and checking him as he walked passed.
Shane took the hit with a grimace, Hayden steadying him still with his hand on his other side. Shane stood his ground, he didn’t allow the step back that Comeau had tried to force. He was captain for a reason and despite not fighting much on the ice Shane knew how to take a hit.
“Knock it off Comeau! He’s still our Captain!” JJ yelled and started to go after him as others filed past.
Shane blinked hard and managed to come back enough from the buzzing to grab the back of JJ’s practice jersey before he could get too far.
“Let it go. It was just a shock. Everyone will be over it soon. Don’t make things worse,” Shane let go of JJ’s jersey and pushed him towards the door as the last of the team left. “We still have practice.”
Practice, it turned out, was an utter disaster.
Shane couldn’t quite get back to a level head. The buzzing and roaring in his ears was still there. His skin felt too tight and itchy still, which only got worse the longer practice went on and the sweatier Shane got. Normally he could tune it out but today every bead of sweat on his skin felt like a bee sting, his flesh ultra-sensitive. His compression base layer felt suffocating instead of snug, his gear didn’t seem to be adjusted right, and his edges on his blades felt off.
His focus was gone, he missed passes and cut too close to the pylons during skating practice. If it had just been him he could have shrugged it off as him being still out of sorts from earlier but the whole team was a mess. Shane was seriously starting to wonder if maybe his coming out was a much bigger deal than everyone had assured him it was going to be. The team’s flow seemed to have stopped.
The coaches spent the entire time frustrated and screaming at them. They were kept long, forced to redo basic drills over and over again until most of the team was throwing up or unable to move. Then, Coach had sent them all to the showers and told them to go home before coming back the next afternoon for tape review. Shane was one of the last to leave the ice and he was stopped by the coaching staff before he could follow everyone back to the locker room.
“What the hell was that Hollander?” Theriault pushed at Shane’s chest and it caused Shane to take a step back before he fell. His legs were jelly from the long practice.
“I’m sorry Coach, it was my fault. It will be better next practice I promise. The team is just having to adjust to some things we discussed before practice and it got in everyone’s head,” Shane was panting.
“What things? If you’re talking to the team and it’s messing them up that bad then the coaching staff should be made aware of it before you do it!” Theriault was red in the face now with spittle flying from his mouth.
Shane’s head was ringing now. The buzzing that he had shoved back was in the forefront and was louder than ever. Everything was starting to take on a muffled quality like he was under water. His body didn’t feel like his anymore and he was starting to worry he was going to break down crying right in front of the entire coaching staff and support team who were still milling around.
“I told them I was gay sir,” Shane wasn’t planning on saying that.
Shane had planned to tell a lie. But the truth just automatically slipped out and not for the first time in his life he cursed his instincts to be honest.
Theriault was purple now and his mouth was gaping like a fish. He took a deep breath like he was gearing up to tear into Shane when the defensive coach got between Shane and Theriault.
“Okay, thanks Hollander. That’s enough, hit the showers. We will see you tomorrow at tape review. Right Coach? Because coming out was your right and the team fully supports you and being gay is a protected class and right in this country. Isn’t that right Coach?” Desjardins was keeping his eyes focused on Theriault’s and seemed to be talking more to him than Shane.
“Right. Ok. Yeah. Of course. Full support,” Theriault snapped out before glaring at Shane one last time and spinning on his heel and marching down the tunnel.
Shane stared for a few seconds before slowly trudging after towards the locker room. By the time he made it back almost all of his team was already in the showers with just a few still at their cubbies. Shane shuffled towards his and started stripping his gear on autopilot.
“You sure that’s a good idea, Captain?” Drapeau sneered from across the room. “You sure you don’t wanna just wait a bit. You know. For privacy?”
Shane blinked. He wanted to get clean. He wanted to go home, he wanted Ilya. He felt shame start to swirl in his stomach. He was such an idiot. Of course coming out was a big deal. Of course, everyone was going to be terrible. What had he been thinking? Why did he allow Ilya to convince him this was going to be okay? It had seemed so simple when they discussed their plan at the cottage. Now he had messed up the team's dynamic and he couldn’t even shower without it being a big deal to everyone.
Shane kept his back to Drapeau. His hands had been about to peel off his compression pants and he had already grabbed his towel for the shower, it was on the bench behind him. He shoved it back into his cubby, not paying attention to where it went. He shoved his feet into his shoes and pulled on a pair of sweats over his compression leggings. He threw on a t-shirt, he was pretty sure it was the one he had been planning on wearing but he couldn’t be sure. He grabbed his duffel and only just managed to remember to check for his wallet, keys, and phone before he threw the bag over his shoulder and headed towards the door.
Hayden came around the corner right then, fresh from the shower a towel wrapped around his waist and another ruffling his hair. He frowned when he saw Shane leaving still sweaty and half dressed.
“Woah. Don’t you wanna shower first?” Hayden pointed a thumb over his shoulder.
“No, I’ll do it at home. I have to go. I just…I gotta go.” Shane didn’t even look at him as he headed out the door.
Shane didn’t remember the walk to his car. That should have concerned him. It should have been the clue that he wasn’t safe to drive but he was too far gone. Everything was wrong. Everything.
He threw the duffel into the passenger's seat and grabbed his cell phone. He unlocked it and jammed his fingers at the screen until he heard the ringing on the other side and leaned his head against the steering wheel as he held the only lifeline he had to his ear.
“Please, please, please.” He squeezed his eyes as tightly as he could as he listened to the phone ring and ring.
“This is Ilya… I will never listen to your voicemail.”
Shane broke.
Tears leaked from his eyes no matter how hard he tried to squeeze them. He pushed his forehead harder against the steering wheel trying to get relief. Trying to get back inside his body but it wasn’t working. Everything was too loud, too bright, too itchy, too tight, too… too everything.
He lifted his head slightly, keeping his eyes shut and thumped his head against the steering wheel. He did it again. Then harder. Harder still. His door flung open and hands were grabbing him and he was yelling. He needed to hit his head again, the moment his head connected it caused everything else to pause and he was centered again, it was the only thing that was working. Whoever was reaching into his car was trying to stop him, they were speaking to him but he couldn’t hear.
“SHANE! SHANE STOP! STOP! HEY!” He was being shaken and hands were on his face forcing his head still.
Shane froze for a second and that was all it took for reality to come crashing down again. Hayden was standing in the driver’s side door holding Shane’s face in his hands and had his face right in front of Shane as he yelled to try and grab Shane’s attention.
“Hey. There you are. It’s okay man. It’s okay. I can’t let you hurt yourself ok? But it’s ok. We are good now. I just need you to stay with me okay?” Hayden was pressing his forehead against Shane’s and talking super soft and slow. He had a strong grip on Shane’s face and was gently rubbing his thumbs under Shane’s eyes.
Shane opened his mouth to speak but nothing happened. He swallowed and tried to breathe normally but it wasn’t working. Hayden seemed to know what was happening. Later, much later, Shane would remember Hayden’s rookie season and some especially bad hazing by some of the older teammates against Shane on a roadie. He will remember how he had one of the worst episodes of his life in a hotel room in Detroit and Hayden had helped pull him out of it. Right now, Shane couldn’t think of anything but needing air, needing to flee, and needing Ilya.
Hayden was nodding his head now and speaking again. Shane could see his mouth moving and feel the tone in his body. It was calm, soothing. He latched onto the tone of voice and the familiar rumble of Hayden as if it was the life-vest keeping him afloat in the stormy ocean of his mind.
“Ok buddy we are gonna get up and you’re gonna get in the back and I’m gonna drive you home ok?” Hayden shifted his hands and grabbed at Shane’s wrists and pulled him out of the driver's side door.
The next thing he knew Shane was buckled into the back seat. He is sure Hayden had to manhandle him there because he kept losing time. One second he was in the driver's seat the next they were already on the road. Hayden was talking to Jackie on the bluetooth speaker and had pulled them out of the parking lot. Shane leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Shane’s heart was racing, he could feel it ready to burst out of his chest. His hand was still squeezing his phone tight. He wasn’t sure he could speak but he needed to hear Ilya’s voice even if it was that stupid voicemail message again. It was such a rude message and he was going to tell him that he was such an asshole to everybody by having that as his voicemail the second they spoke again. Just because he was a super hot hockey player didn’t mean he needed to be a dick. God he hated him sometimes.
How dare Ilya not answer? Didn’t he know what today was? What Shane had done? Normally he would feel guilty for these types of thoughts. But Shane’s logical part of his brain had long since checked out. He was riding wave after wave of self-hatred, panic, and physical over-stimulation.
His sweat had dried to his skin making everything feel tight and dehydrated. Did he even drink anything after practice? How did he have tears running down his face right now when he was so thirsty? God he needed something cold. Water as ice cold as possible or a perfectly chilled blue Gatorade. But fetching it seemed as hard as winning the Stanley Cup. Maybe if he just curled up on the floor he could fall asleep and he wouldn’t be so thirsty.
Time had slipped away again. Shane was standing inside his house. He didn’t know when that had happened. They were just in the car. He had been calling Ilya over and over again listening to the ringing and the voicemail and was so angry at Ilya and so thirsty and…
“Shane?”
Hayden. Hayden was here. Right, Hayden drove him. He hoped Hayden drove him.
“Shane, buddy, can you give me your phone? Who do you keep calling?” Hayden held out his hand. “Why don’t you hand it over and I’ll call them while you shower ok?”
Shane blinked. He was thirsty. He wanted to sleep, he wanted his bed and soft blankets, and dark and quiet. A shower seemed impossible, his feet wouldn’t move from the entry way. To move would be to make a decision and the ringing had taken over that he couldn’t form full thoughts anymore. Everything was just wrong.
Hayden reached and grabbed the phone from Shane’s hand. He felt his hand move with the phone at first and then it just dropped. Did his arms always hang from his shoulders like this? What is he supposed to do with his arms now? His hands? He didn’t want to be here. The entry way was for entering, not standing. Shoes. Right. Shoes should be taken off.
He took his shoes off and lined them against the wall. They should be put away properly but he couldn’t bring himself to open the cabinet and look inside. The left side door liked to stick, if it stuck now he would cry again so against the wall was going to have to do.
Hayden was standing there in his hoodie staring at his phone in shock as Ilya’s voice message played from the tiny speaker. Oh no. When he had told Hayden about being gay he hadn’t actually gotten to the “also I’ve been fucking Ilya Rozanov for 9 years and now we are together as boyfriends and want to get married and have kids someday” part of the story. Shane felt the world slide sideways.
His ass hit the floor and his hands went to his hair. He kept pulling and hitting his head trying to clear it. He was sobbing again. He had messed everything up, this wasn’t how anything was supposed to go. He felt so exposed. Why couldn’t he just “be cool” like his mom was always reminding him? Why did everything have to be such a big deal?
Hayden’s hands were on him now, trying to pry his fingers from his hair and stop him from hitting his face. Shane couldn’t make out the words. The tone wasn’t calm anymore so Shane tried to shrink back. He pulled his knees to his chest and tried to slide away, he needed somewhere safe and not so exposed. He just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. This was all too much. How long can a person not breathe? How long can someone’s heart beat this fast? The weight. It was crushing. It was killing him.
He was dying and he never got to marry Ilya. He never got to see Ilya be a father. He would have been amazing. Gone overboard every Christmas and birthday, coached the little peewee team. They never even went on a public date. Oh god. He can’t do this. He can’t die but he can’t get his body to stop. He would do anything in this moment for it to all end. Anything. The line of thinking was starting to scare him but he wasn’t in control anymore. Thoughts were entering and fleeing his mind faster than he could blink. Time slipping away in chunks. It was no longer linear.
“SHANE! SHANE! Moya lyubov’! LISTEN PLEASE!”
A tiny familiar voice cut through the static. Shane froze, his eyes were squeezed shut but his entire body stopped.
“It’s working, keep talking” Hayden…frantic…that wasn’t who Shane had heard though.
Where was he? Had he imagined it?
Shane slowly opened his eyes and used the hand that wasn’t gripping in his hair to wipe at his face. He needed to see. Hayden was kneeling just out of reach of Shane with his phone held out, “Lily” on the screen and the speaker button clicked.
“Moya lyubov’ I need you to listen to me and breathe. Ok? You do this for me, yes?”
Shane let out a sob. He wanted Ilya here. But he was in Boston. Thousands of miles away.
“It’s okay. I know. Please. Just keep breathing for me.”
It wasn’t okay. Shane’s brain wasn’t working, he was still gross and needed a shower. Everything was still wrong, the weight was still there, still crushing into his chest, his shoulders, his neck, his soul. The buzzing was a million fire ants biting into his skin. Time was so choppy that it was like his eyes were skipping. Instead of seeing in video he was seeing snapshots.
Blink. *Click.*
Hayden was in front of him.Blink. *Click.*
His brain showed him the dust on the floor and it was standing out in a 3D X-ray filter. How was his floor so dusty? He had a cleaning lady.Blink. *Click.*
His brain showed him his socks on his feet and his body let him know that the seam was digging into his toes. He needed those removed. But then the dust on the floor…Blink. *Click.*
His brain latched onto the phone and the tiny sound of Ilya.Blink. *Click.*
Hayden was speaking into the phone again. Everything was under water.Blink. *Click.*
Shane was pressed against a wall and the little bookshelf that held some of his hockey books.
Shane started rocking now. The little Ilya voice wasn’t enough. It was starting to make things worse. It highlighted how far he was. How alone Shane was in Montreal. Where his team hated him now. They had to still get through a whole new season before Ilya could hope to transfer teams and even then he would be 2 hours away. Too far to come to Shane in moments like this. Shane was pathetic, a loser. Ilya would be better without him. He could stay in Boston, he wouldn’t have to give up everything.
Shane felt the crack. Deep inside. The pressure had built up and it was just too much. He wasn’t sure he could hold it up anymore. The crack inside would crumble and Shane would get pulled deep down into an abyss, into darkness.
He squeezed his eyes shut again, closing out the world. He fisted both hands in his hair again and put his eyes against his knees. He backed himself tight against the wall and shelf before he started to rock. He just needed to breathe. If he could just breathe…
Shane wasn’t Shane anymore. He couldn’t remember why everything was terrible and wrong, just that it was. He didn’t remember what day it was. The sobbing had stopped. His nose was running and stuffy at the same time, tears kept leaking from his eyes but the full-body, shaking sobs had faded. His body just didn’t have the strength anymore.
Somewhere deep inside he knew there were things that could make everything better but thoughts came and went so quickly that it was like trying to catch water with a mesh sieve. Everything just kept slipping away.
The world was actually tilted now. Shane wonders if he had fallen to the side at some point. Maybe he laid down on purpose. He just knew he couldn’t release his hands. His arms were hugging his knees to his chest and his hands were grabbing at the opposite wrist. He tried to keep his head tucked down. The sun had started to go down and at some point the curtains and blinds had been lowered.
Hayden was a steady presence. A guardian. He sat on the floor. His shoes had been removed at some point and he had Shane’s phone next to him. He had his knees bent, back against the side of the couch just out of Shane’s reach. He didn’t try to touch Shane anymore. There was a bruise on his cheek under one eye and he had a split lip. A few drops of blood stained his hoodie. Hayden had stopped talking hours? days? weeks? ago. There was just quiet.
Shane liked the quiet. He could just stay right here and not move and never make a sound again. Nothing could be wrong if he just stayed right here.
Ilya slowed the car down so the engine wouldn’t make too much noise. His last update from Hayden was Shane had calmed but was not aware. He didn’t need the car's engine jolting him back into overwhelm.
Hayden hadn’t reacted well to Ilya being Lily. Ilya had been in Ottawa meeting with the owners and management of the Centaur’s. He had planned to drive to Montreal and surprise Shane. He didn’t want to tell him in advance of the meeting in case it didn’t go well. Shane had planned out the perfect way for them to be together and it all hinged on him being able to transfer to Ottawa.
Ilya didn’t care about money, not anymore, but he couldn’t let Ottawa know that or people would get suspicious. They already were in disbelief that he was even talking to them. He had needed to meet with them and go through a big show of “looking at all options” since his contract in Boston was over at the end of the season. He needed to let them woo him without seeming to be too eager. Which means he needed to also do this again with some other teams. But if for some reason Ottawa didn’t want him? If they thought they couldn’t afford it? Shane would be crushed. He’d panic that the plan was falling apart. Better Ilya have the meeting and get things going, then tell Shane that it all worked out.
He flew out to Ottawa that morning, he claimed he had injured his hand at practice the day before and needed to rest it. He had skipped practice today and flown out. The meeting had gone well and Shane was right, they could afford him if he took a tiny cut in pay. So tiny that accepting wouldn’t raise any red flags. He had rented a car and started to drive.
He had stopped halfway to Montreal at a McDonald’s to get a crispy coke and a double cheeseburger knowing Shane was already on his performance diet for the season. He loved Shane but there was no way he was eating Salmon tonight. He was an athlete, he needed red meat. While in the drive-thru he had checked his phone to see if Shane was done with practice yet and realized he had left it on Do Not Disturb since the meeting. When he turned it off, he had dozens and dozens of missed calls from Shane.
His hand shook and dread filled him. Something was very wrong. Shane would not have called so many times unless something was very, very wrong. All sorts of scenarios up to and including career ending injuries received at practice ran through his head as he moved his thumb to call Shane back. Before he could hit “call” the phone was ringing again from Shane himself.
“Shane! Solynshko! What happened? What’s wrong?” Ilya spoke before Shane could say anything.
“Oh for fucks sake! ROZANOV!?!” Hayden Pike was cursing at him through the car's Bluetooth system as Ilya grabbed his coke and burger from the teen working the second window.
Ilya closed his eyes for a moment and tried not to cuss right back. Why the hell did Hayden have Shane’s phone and why was he calling Ilya so many times?
“Where is Shane?” Ilya finally grit out, interrupting Pike’s incessant ranting.
“He’s here. I was trying to call Lily, I’m guessing that’s been you this whole damn time?!? When this is over, we are going to have a long talk about that and just how long you have been fucking my best friend because I’ve known about Boston Lily for years and he never….” Pike’s voice was tense, low, and sounded like he was talking through his teeth.
“PIKE! I know it is difficult for you, Yes? To use brain? But please? What has happened and where is Shane?”
Ilya glanced at the GPS, he was 45 min away from Shane’s place. Maybe less if he didn’t hit traffic. Unlikely since it was getting to be time for the office workers to be off work and rush hour to start .
“He’s here! But not here. Look man, I don’t know if you know this about Shane but sometimes he like, has these episodes. Panic attacks or something. He hasn’t had one this bad since rookie season, usually I can get him to calm down but I can’t reach him this time. He was calling you over and over as I drove him home. I don’t know what to do. I —” Pike was speaking fast. Ilya almost had trouble translating.
“Yes I know. He needs dark, quiet. Don’t touch him but don’t let him hurt himself,” Ilya ordered.
“No shit.”
Ilya rolled his eyes.
He knew all about the meltdowns. The first time had been when they got together after Vegas. He had won his trophy and then Shane and him had hooked up. Shane had left and it was fine. The next time they were together Ilya tried to keep the same distance between them. Shane had gotten too curious about his home life in Russia in Vegas and Ilya hadn’t wanted to get too familiar then. When they had finished having sex that time and Ilya had tried to leave the room, Shane started hitting himself. He had a panic attack thinking he had done something wrong.
Ilya had been terrified but after it was over Shane had explained that he had them since he was a kid. Usually he could manage it, but sometimes the world got too noisy and a pressure built up inside him. Hitting himself, pulling his hair, it helped reset him. Keep him present in the moment until he could get the rest of his brain and body level again, until he could end the panic attack. He had told him ways he could help and the different triggers. They had spoken for hours, so long that Ilya almost didn’t manage to sneak back into his real hotel room before people noticed he was missing.
Occasionally after Montreal had a series of loses or his mother was riding him too much as a manager Shane would show up to their hook ups and Ilya could tell he was on a brink of a breakdown. He would talk soft and slow. Turn down the lights. Get them naked and in the soft bed. He would run his hands all over Shane’s body, not for sex, but to just massage and soothe. He pressed gentle kisses everywhere and laid on top of him, crushing his body weight into Shane. Eventually Shane would come back to himself. He would be weepy for a bit, shaken. But Shane again. Then they would make love.
Ilya would make sure Shane sunk deep within his subspace, give everything to Ilya to worry about so he could just float away. When they were finished Ilya cleaned his body and whispered to him in Russian. Carefully and tenderly bringing Shane back into himself again for a final time.
It didn't happen often. Once, maybe twice a year. Almost always towards the end of the season when the natural pressure of the playoffs and sponsorship pressures cranked up. He was always relieved it happened when Ilya could be there for him. For it to happen during training camp was unheard of in all the years Ilya had known him.
“Look. All the normal tricks I did the first few years in the league didn’t work ok? I tried to help but he’s spiraled— bad. He came out to the team today. Things were rough. Nothing too terrible, like no one punched him or anything, but bad enough. He hasn’t had one of these since maybe our second? Third season? I don’t know what to do here man. Maybe I should call his parents or something” Pike was keeping his voice low and Ilya could hear sobbing in the background.
“No! Don’t call. I am in Canada. I will be there soon.” Ilya switched lanes to get away from the car that was driving far too slow.
“What? Why are you here? What is going on?” Pike was hissing and spitting his words into the phone now.
“None of your business. I will explain later. Shane matters now. Keep him safe, keep lights off, close curtains, keep quiet.” Ilya snapped.
There was an awful screeching sound coming from the background. Bone wrenching sobs. He could hear his Shane was worked up beyond anything he had seen before. Shane didn’t make those sounds.
“Put me on speaker, let me talk to him!”
“Yeah. Ok. I dunno if he will hear you.”
“PIKE!”
“Ok! Ok. You’re on speaker now” Pike said and the tone of the call had shifted. Ilya could clearly hear Shane’s agony now.
“SHANE! SHANE!” Ilya was yelling to be heard over Shane’s sobbing but he was also worried that the yelling would scare him.
“He can’t hear you man, I don’t think this is going to work.” Pike sounded more frantic now.
“SHANE! SHANE! Moya lyubov’! LISTEN PLEASE!” Ilya felt tears stream down his face as he heard Shane’s soul breaking.
The sobbing cut off, he could hear Shane’s gasping for air over the speaker.
“It’s working, keep talking” Pike spoke quickly and in a whisper, wisely shutting himself up before Ilya needed to put him in his place.
“Moya lyubov’ I need you to listen to me and breathe. Ok? You do this for me, yes?” There was a single sob as a response. More panicked breaths.
“It’s okay. I know. Please. Just keep breathing for me.”
The line was quiet except Shane’s labored breathing, then there was shuffling and then the sobbing returned. Not as loud as before, but desperate. Like a wounded animal. It sounded painful.
“Solynshko. Lyubimyy. Please. I am coming ok? It was surprise. I spoke to Ottawa. I was coming to see you. Was going to surprise you after practice. I fly back in morning, yes? Tonight we be together. It will be okay. Everything is okay. You are safe. I promise. We are safe.” Ilya was crying now, one hand on the wheel the other wiping his face as he tried to keep his voice calm and level.
Hayden cleared his throat. “Sorry man. He’s out of it again. Not as bad. I think it helped to hear your voice. That’s the only reason I’m not going to punch you in your face when you get here. But I think I need to go in case he starts up again. He keeps trying to hurt himself. I may need both hands for him.”
Ilya swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Okay. 30 min. I will try and hurry.”
“Don’t get in a wreck. I don’t want to have to pull him out only to tell him you were in a crash.”
“Quiet Pike, he maybe hear you. Don’t upset him.” Ilya’s voice was dripping with venom.
If Pike upset Shane for one moment more than he already was suffering, then best friend or not, Ilya would end him.
“Right. Just get here.”
The line went dead.
Now Ilya was pulling into the driveway and Ilya threw it into park. He ran up the front walkway and pulled himself in before he slammed open the door. He took a breath and very slowly turned the knob and cracked the door open. He didn’t hear anything. That could be a good thing or a bad thing.
He slipped inside and guided the door closed as quietly as he could before toeing his shoes off. He bent to put them away in Shane’s dumb cupboard when he noticed Shane’s lined against the wall. That was odd. Shane was very particular about shoes in the house. More so than even Ilya. Ilya didn’t like to wear them inside, but didn’t care if they were in a giant pile by the door. Shane had a routine. They needed to be put away properly. He knew Shane was in a bad way but this just nailed the point home in a way that made his stomach twist. He abandoned his shoes next to Shanes and crept into the house trying to not make any noise.
When he turned the corner he realized why it was so quiet. Shane was along the wall, tucked against a short bookcase on the way to the stairs. Across from him was Hayden. Hayden had dark rings under his eyes and had clearly been in a fight. Shane was curled in on himself and hiding his face but he was breathing.
Hayden raised his head and nodded at Ilya. Ilya gestured at Hayden to get up and follow him back to the door. When he came into the entry way he handed Ilya Shane’s cell phone.
“What happened to your face?” Ilya asked as he took it from him.
“He tried to bash his head against that shelf. When I tried to stop him he swung at me. I got my arms around him and grabbed his wrists so he couldn’t hit himself again and he threw his head back and got me in the mouth. I had to basically lay on top of him to get him to stop fighting me. It seemed to calm him down though. After a few minutes of me on top of him, telling him he was okay, the fight went out. He curled up and has been quiet since.” Pike sounded exhausted, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually.
“Thank you. For keeping him safe. You can go now. I have him.” Ilya started to walk past but before he could Pike put a hand on his chest to stop him.
“It is taking everything in me to not throw you through a window right now. I’m mad as hell at you especially, but Shane also owes me an explanation. This isn’t over. The only reason I am leaving you alone with him right now is because your number is saved as Lily in his phone which means you guys have been together for years. I know you think I’m an idiot but I’m not. If your number had been saved as anything else, I wouldn’t be leaving, do you understand? It’s not you I trust. It’s Shane.” Pike’s jaw was set and his eyes were dead. Ilya had never seen him like this.
“I understand. Shane cannot explain now. He will call tomorrow. You will be a good friend and listen.” Ilya held his stare, daring him to be a better man than Ilya really believed him capable of being.
Pike didn’t say anything, just nodded and slipped on his shoes before leaving. Ilya locked everything up behind him before taking a deep breath and making his way back to his Shane.
Shane smelled tobacco and Ilya’s cologne. He couldn’t remember the name of it now, just the dark bottle. He knows it’s expensive, some luxury brand. Dior or Tom Ford. He has a bottle here at the house, a small one hidden under his sink. He got it for Ilya to freshen up with, but sometimes he sprayed his pillow with it just to smell him when he wasn’t around. The tobacco didn’t make sense though. He didn’t even let Ilya smoke in the house. He shouldn’t be smelling that.
“Moy Solynshko...”
Shane blinked. Ilya? Ilya couldn’t be here. He’s in Boston. Shane must have finally lost it completely. He was hallucinating. He had to be.
A strong, warm hand threaded through Shane’s hair and he stopped breathing. He was scared to look, if he looked Ilya would disappear and Shane would rather have this hallucination than to leave and be alone again.
Shane felt a gentle tug and more Russian being spoken. He knew the words, but he couldn’t focus enough to translate at the moment. Another hand had joined the first and his head was gently being tilted up until his eyes focused on the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen framed by a golden halo of curls.
The image went blurry as he whimpered and more tears spilled down his cheeks. This time they didn’t fall far. His face was cradled in Ilya’s hands, calluses he knew as well as his own, adding a roughness to the gentle hold. Thumbs gently stroked his cheeks, wiping the wetness away.
Ilya was shushing him. Softly speaking a mix of English and Russian endearments. After a minute Shane realized that this was just far too real to be a hallucination. He didn’t know how, but Ilya was in front of him. Holding him, bringing him gently back to reality and guiding him out of the darkness of the abyss.
Shane let out a relieved half laugh, half sob and threw his arms around Ilya’s neck. It forced Ilya from his crouch to sit flat on his ass on the floor. Shane crawled into Ilya’s lap wrapping his legs around him and burying his fingers into the perfect curls. He nuzzled into the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Ilya kept his running commentary up, as his arms wrapped around Shane and squeezed him tight fusing them together. Shane felt kisses rain down on every place Ilya could reach which wasn’t very many places because Shane was completely entwined with him.
Shane felt time shift again, but this once he didn’t mind. Ilya was here. Everything was going to be okay now. Ilya knew how to guide Shane home. He didn’t know exactly why things had spiraled so badly, but he didn’t care. He had Ilya now. Deep pressure from his strong arms was bringing Shane’s overly sensitive body back online. It was soothing the vibrating buzzing in his nerves. What wasn’t soothed by the squeezing was wiped away but his large hands running up and down his back, his arms, his thighs. As Ilya kept one arm secure around Shane’s waist the other slowly swatted all those invisible fire ants that had been torturing Shane away.
The air thinned for the first time in hours, maybe days. It wasn’t so heavy anymore. The weight on his chest was loosening. It was as if the weight that was crushing his soul Ilya had swept in and lifted clean off. The shadow of the weight was still there, it would be for a while, but Ilya was pushing the weight further and further away. Soon even the shadow would disappear.
Shane lifted his head up and Ilya pressed their foreheads together. Shane smiled slightly as the pressure helped clear the cobwebs from his brain. They stayed like that for a few min until Shane pulled back slightly to look at Ilya in the face.
Ilya smiled at him, his eyes were flicking to his forehead, his eyes, freckles, mouth, up and down Shane’s body. He knew he was inspecting him for injuries. He knew there were some by the way. Ilya got a little wrinkle between his brows and his lips turned down before he smiled at Shane reassuringly again. Shane wanted to ask how Ilya was here, how long he was going to stay, but despite Ilya’s presence pulling Shane back into himself his voice hadn’t quite found its way back yet.
Ilya, of course knew, he nodded at Shane and placed a hand along Shane’s jaw.
“Is ok. I was in Ottawa, I was coming to surprise you. We have all night now. I am here. You are safe. Nothing is wrong now. I will take care of you. Ya lyublyu tol'ko tebya” he whispered.
Then Ilya was pressing a kiss to Shane’s lips and Shane knew the world would re-center itself again. Ilya called him “Solynshko” because he said that Shane was the sun in which his world orbited, but the truth was they were really twin flames. For all that Ilya always put Shane first, Shane couldn’t shine without Ilya.
Shane kissed back eagerly, opening to accept Ilya’s tongue inside when he felt it slide along the seam of his lips. They kissed for what seemed like hours. Like they were the only two people in existence. That Shane wasn’t 200 pounds of muscle crushing Ilya beneath him. That Ilya wasn’t having to keep his core engaged to hold them both up as they sat wrapped up in each other in the middle of the walkway.
They eventually separated for air and Ilya placed kisses along Shane’s jaw, across his freckles and the tip of his nose. Shane wrinkled his face and smiled a little wider in response.
“Come on. You need to shower and I have plans for you. Let me grab some water and we will go upstairs. We can talk in the morning. Tonight is just us, nothing else is important. We have never needed many words, so do not worry. Tonight just be with me and feel.” Ilya kissed him again before he grabbed his hips and gently coaxed him to stand up.
Shane stood on shaky legs and let Ilya guide him to the arm of the couch before he disappeared into the kitchen. He came back with one arm clutching multiple cold water bottles and Gatorades against his body. In his other hand he held a single blue Gatorade with the lid already off. He handed it to Shane before wrapping his arm around Shane’s waist and guiding him up to his feet again. Shane eagerly gulped from the bottle finally quenching his never ending thirst.
Shane let Ilya drag him up the stairs towards his shower, finally. Ilya never let go. Not until long after the sun rose and the birds awoke in the morning.