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Practice felt like it had been going on for days when Coach Wiebe got the call that one of his daughters had broken her leg in some kind of strange tire swing debacle, and it couldn’t have ended too soon for Luca. He had been feeling melancholy and slightly homesick recently, so he had arranged to “have dinner” with his mama over FaceTime, and he knew if he didn’t get at least his kitchen table cleaned off, he would be in for an (affectionate, yet annoying) lecture about how important it is to keep the places you live bright and clean.
Luca had almost made it all the way to his car when he realized that his locker still held the last piece of the bienenstich he had picked up from the German bakery located only two miles from the arena. He had been saving it to eat with his mother – it was a favorite for both of them and when they ate the same thing during their transatlantic dinners it helped him feel like she wasn’t quite so far away. He had worked hard to get where he was, and playing in the NHL was a literal dream come true. He would always be grateful for the fact that he was there, in Canada, playing with one (now two) of the most legendary hockey players of his age. But that didn’t mean he didn’t miss home.
He especially missed his mama. He had been close to her even before his papa passed away, and in the following years, as Luca’s sisters left home, it was often times just the two of them. He hated being thought of as a “mama’s boy”, but he couldn’t deny that her unwavering support and belief in him was a part of the reason he was here, living his dream. And he loved her for that (and so much more).
The dressing room looked deserted. Luca knew he and LaPointe had been the last to leave, so he didn’t expect to see anyone else. He moved towards his stall to grab the box that held the singular piece of cake that he had been able to save from the rest of the team (and only by hiding it in his stall), but then stopped in his tracks. The door swung closed behind him, making no noise, but he could hear a faint shuffling and what sounded like heavy breathing coming from the shower area. No water was running, but Luca caught a figure standing awkwardly in his peripheral vision, only to realize it was actually Shane and Ilya wrapped around each other so tightly they looked like one person.
Luca shared a dressing room with Shane and Ilya. He was no fool. He had been burned before. Those two were incapable of keeping their hands off each other when they were off the ice.
Now, Luca was not a prude. But there are some things that you just don’t want to know, and the fact that his captain has a fondness for calling his husband… Luca blushed even thinking it. Suffice it to say, Luca had learned his lesson. The cake could wait. He turned and moved to leave the room.
Suddenly, a single sob broke out. Luca heard gentle shushing in a Russian accent.
“Shhhh, moya lyubov. I know. I’m scared too. But I think we are supposed to be scared right now, yes?”
Luca only just managed to stop himself from gasping audibly. Shane was crying. Shane – the absolute powerhouse of a hockey legend, who kept himself together at all times, never showed his temper in the dressing room, was the least likely to get into a fight, as the voice of reason and calm when his chaos gremlin of a husband was losing his mind….
Shane was crying.
He shouldn’t stay, he should leave, he should walk out and give them their privacy. These weren’t just his teammates (and captain), these were his friends. Something was obviously happening, and it was none of Luca’s business.
But he couldn’t move. The shock had rooted him to the spot. He had noticed that Shane was slightly out of sorts today, but nothing that would prompt a reaction like this. Should he make himself known? Should he go get help?
“I’m being ridiculous, I know, I’m sorry. This is just so huge, and I keep thinking that something is going to happen to screw it all up. What if I say the wrong thing in one of the interviews? What if they think that it’s too dangerous, us being so high profile – we’ve made ourselves targets before, what if they think it’s not safe, what…” his breathing got faster.
“Shanya” Ilya said, firmly. Luca recognized the tone of the captain’s voice – it was his no-nonsense tone that he used when the rookies were getting too much in their own heads, doubting themselves and their skills. The low sniffles and sobs continued, and Shane must not have acknowledged Ilya yet because he said “Shane” in a loud, clear tone designed to get someone’s attention. It carried no reprimand, but demanded compliance.
Luca wished he could leave, but they had turned slightly, and if he opened the door now they would see him. So, he remained as still as possible behind a shelf near the door that was piled high with towels that had been laundered and were just waiting to be put away. He was grateful for the shelf’s presence, otherwise they would have seen him by now. He peeked between two stacks and saw Ilya had drawn back and was holding Shane’s face in his hands, forcing Shane to look at him.
“We are going to breathe first, solnyshko. In for three, hold for three, come on with me.” He took one hand and placed it on Shane’s chest, then moved the other to his own. He took in a breath and held it, waiting for Shane to follow his lead. “Then out for three and hold for three, come on, you can do this. In for three…”
Luca had no idea that Shane had panic attacks. He listened as Ilya calmly guided Shane through the breathing exercises. As he watched, he found himself utterly fascinated.
Ilya Rozanov had been his hero since he was 12 years old. He had spent thousands of hours studying his technique, his history, and he pretty much had all of Rozanov’s up-to-date stats memorized. He read every interview he could find, and watched every tape. And now that he was actually playing on the same team (which he still had a hard time believing), he was learning exponentially more about his captain. He had seen Ilya’s face with a hundred different expressions.
He had never seen anything like this on Rozanov’s face before. It was a picture of adoration for his husband, It was his love, set to color. It really defied explanation.
His eyes were smiling, but they also reflected pain. His forehead was slightly scrunchy, like he was a little bit worried about something. His eyes darted between Shane’s eyes and lips, and he leaned slightly forward, into Shane. The corners of his mouth turned very slightly downward, but not in an unpleasant way. Luca felt like his expression morphed every other second – one moment thoughtful, the next moment loving, then grateful, then pained. It was hard to keep up. He looked like his mind was far too small to hold all the emotions he was feeling. He watched as Shane continued to breathe with Ilya until he was able to let out one big breath and relax into Ilya’s arms.
“Tell me three colors you see.”
“You don’t have to take me though every exercise, I’m okay, I just need a minute.”
“Shanya.” The endearment was clouded by disapproval. “You know there is no off switch for a panic attack. We follow our routine. If we don’t, you feel upset about it later. Three colors please.”
“It’s supposed to be five, but fine. The ceiling is piss yellow, the floor is muddy blue, and the shower knobs are… what color are they?”
“Best not to look too close, that’s good enough. Next, five things you smell.”
Luca watched as Ilya took Shane through all five senses, though he definitely had them in the wrong order. He wondered how often Shane had to deal with panic attacks. He hoped it wasn’t that often, but with Ilya’s knowledge of the recovery tools, he suspected it was something that came up a lot.
—————————
Luca had only been eight years old when he had his first panic attack. He had been roughhousing with his sister when a crystal figurine had been knocked off of a side table. Not only was Luca not supposed to be being so physical indoors, the figurine had been one his father had given his mother the first Christmas they were married. It was one of her most prized possessions, and Luca had literally made himself sick with worry over it. The suffocating feeling of not being able to catch his breath dropped on him suddenly and would not let him go. His sister had screamed his name and even slapped his cheek to try and get him to listen to her – he hadn’t even known she was speaking.
The screaming had roused his mother’s attention. He had been terrified of her reaction, but she barely looked at the figurine, instead kneeling next to Luca and putting her arms around him firmly, holding him back-to-chest. In a soft and careful voice, she guided Luca’s breathing, loosening her arms for him to inhale, and tightening for him to exhale. Soon they had a good rhythm going, and Luca’s gasps turned into sobs. He tried to turn around to put his arms around her, to tell her how sorry he was, that he would never do that on purpose, but his mother held him firm, telling him to just keep on, and that it would be okay. It wasn’t until Luca was almost limp in her arms from the exhaustion of the panic attack that she let him go. She had told him to go into the next room so she could clean up the glass, and went to get a broom.
Once Luca had calmed down, he had found his mother in the kitchen. Tears overflowed as her told her how sorry he was, and how he promised that he would never play rough in the house again. His mother had hugged him and thanked him for his apology. She did not try to hide the hurt she felt, but she also told him that she knew it had been an accident. And that she loved him far more than that figurine.
Then she made him get his very first job, doing small projects for family members and neighbors, until he could pay to replace it. And she made him tell his father.
His mama was tough, but fair.
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Once Shane’s breathing had been steady for a few minutes, Ilya loosened his arms and stood back from him. That expression that Luca couldn’t name was still there. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was about that expression, what minute detail it was that captured the adoration. He couldn’t wait to find someone who would look at him like that, who would prompt the same look from Luca. That kind of love that his parents shared. Far from perfect and exactly what love should look like.
“Now, my Shanya, you will sit here, against this disgusting shower wall, and you will wait for me for thirty seconds.”
Shane’s body language was absolutely exhausted as he sank down without arguing.
And Ilya walked straight to Luca.
“Well, it was a nice life while it lasted.” he thought, weakly.
Ilya’s face remained neutral, and he did not speak, he simply pointed to the water bottles Luca was standing right in front of and motioned Luca to pass one. Then, so softly it was more of a breeze than a word, he whispered “We are taking Anya to the dog park tonight. You will meet us there at 7pm, after Facetime dinner with your mama.”
Then he turned around went straight back to his husband.
Luca started mentally preparing his will.
—————————
“Shanya, look who it is! Luca, you love dogs so much you come to the park even though you don’t have one? I am so proud!” Ilya’s greeting was enthusiastic, but Luca felt like there was a hint of thunder behind his eyes.
“I like to come here sometimes and draw the dogs. I still have trouble drawing some breeds, so I come her for live models.”
He really hoped his excuse would fool Shane.
“You know Luca, I keep hearing about how great of an artist you are but I’ve never seen any of your work. I’d love to look sometime, see what everyone is raving about.” Shane smiled. He looked content and happy. Maybe even a little… joyful?
“Blyat! Shanya, I’m sorry, I left Anya’s octopus toy in the car, would you get it for her? I know she wants to show all her friends her new toy.”
“What, so they can all rip it to shreds within the first three minutes?” Shane shot back, but he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned towards the car.
“Roz….” Luca started, turning to face Ilya, “I’m so…”
“Wait until he can’t hear us please Haas, I don’t want to have to kill you.” Ilya’s easy smile didn’t even flicker until Shane had moved behind a small grove of trees. Then he looked at Luca with the most serious expression Luca had ever seen on his face.
Ever.
“Explain. Quickly”
“I came back to get something and I saw you two and I didn’t want to interrupt…”
“So you thought you would spy instead? Interesting choice.”
“No, I would never do that on purpose, Roz! I didn’t mean to, but Shane sounded so upset and I was worried and then the panic attack happened and I wanted to help but I knew I couldn’t and then you were just… in front of me.” Luca looked at the floor, humiliated and ashamed. For a few minutes, they sat in silence. Then Ilya blew out a long breath and turned back to look at Luca.
“How did you know it was a panic attack?”
“I’ve had them since I was 8.” Luca shrugged. Ilya nodded slowly, tilting his head as if he was reappraising Luca.
“I think I understand. You are a very nice guy Haas, very… blyat, why is English so hard… you understand how others feel. You have respect, you have proven that to me, and I am not angry at you for this. Especially since I know you will know to leave situations you are not supposed to be in, accidental or not. Da?”
“Da, yes, very much da. I’m sorry, Ilya, I did not mean to…” Luca started, but Ilya cut him off with a wave.
“I know, Haas, I know. And I trust you.”
Luca almost staggered back at the impact of those words, directed at him from Ilya fucking Rozanov.
And then Ilya upped the ante.
“Shane and I have our first meeting with an adoption service in August. He is very nervous about it. He keeps thinking that any little problem could possibly mean we don’t ever become parents. And this scares him not only for himself, but for how much he knows I want children. He has it in his head that if we cannot adopt, it will be his fault and he will have ruined my dream. He’s forgetting that he *is* my dream. For someone so smart, he can be really fucking stupid.”
Luca was stunned. “Roz, that’s… that’s amazing! When did –“ But Ilya cut him off.
“No not now, Shane will be back in seconds. I will tell you later.”
“Of course. And you don’t have to tell me anything, of course, I’m so honored you’ve told me what you have. And I wont say a word, I promise.”
“I know you won’t, Hass. Do you know why I know that?”
“Because you’ll murder me if I do?” Luca said.
Ilya’s face softened. Suddenly, Luca recognized a new part of the expression. He saw respect. For him. From his hero.
Yeah, this was a “highlight-of-my-life” moment.
“Because you are a good guy, Haasey. You’re a really, really good guy.”
Shane came back around the tree line at that moment and saw Luca, staring at Ilya, mouth agape.
“Oh god, Ilya, I wasn’t even gone that long, how’d you break Haas so fast?”
Ilya winked at Luca and said “It’s fine, we’ll get another batch of rookies next year. Maybe they’ll be less nosy.” He turned and winked at Haas, as Shane gave him a half confused, half indulgent glance.
Luca watched as his childhood hero was the victim of a brutal game of keep-away against his husband (another childhood hero) and their dog. He closed his eyes, leaned back, and smiled.
“How is this my life?”