Chapter Text
Ilya awoke disoriented.
He couldn’t remember what happened. Had he taken any pills or just drunk himself into oblivion? Had he started taking them and passed out? Was he currently dying?
His head was so hazy and he felt like he could barely keep his eyes open.
He looked at his phone, the brightness stinging in an otherwise dark room.
There were multiple texts and missed calls from Hollander. He couldn’t deal with opening them so he just glanced at the latest notification.
“Give me your fucking address or I’m speaking to your coach.”
Fuck. That was the last thing Ilya needed. He replied, threw his phone down and went back to sleep.
Banging at the door awoke Ilya, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep for this time. He pulled himself up from the sofa which took all of the energy he had left and headed to the door.
He squeezed his eyes shut a couple of times trying to will away the pounding headache.
Opening the door, Shane instantly pushed himself in and walked straight to the living room, he looked pissed.
“What the fuck Ilya?” He wasn’t shouting but he was definitely angry.
Ilya didn’t know what to say, he just sat back down and lit a cigarette. The room was so dark, you could barely see anything.
“Seriously? You just go AWOL and say nothing?”
Okay, Shane was actually fuming. He fumbled around and found the light switch.
Ilya’s hands flew to his face to shield his eyes.
He still hadn’t said a thing since Shane had got there and he was now realising how much of a fucked up situation he’d got himself in and Shane was about to hit that realisation too.
It felt like the room had gone too quiet. Ilya finally chanced a look at Shane, he felt so ashamed and embarrassed, and defeated. He almost couldn’t bear to open his eyes.
Shane was just stood there. Staring at the mess on the coffee table, an empty bottle of vodka, an open but mostly full bottle of pills and a pack of cigarettes. His eyes were glistening with tears that hadn’t fallen yet.
“Please tell me you fucking didn’t.”
He looked at Ilya, one quick blink and the tears were falling. Steaming down his face.
Ilya looked back at the floor.
“I didn’t.” He said softly.
“I guess…I drank too much, I can’t really remember.”
He tried to focus on the cigarette between his fingers.
He felt the weight of the sofa shift next to him but continued looking at the floor, tears starting to trail down his cheeks, now staring down at the pair of trainers which were planted next to his.
Ilya knew if he looked at Shane, he was going to breakdown completely. He’d tried so hard to get better, the friendship they’d developed over the last year had really helped but it didn’t fix anything and for some reason, his brain had really gone for it tonight.
Thoughts upon thoughts of self hatred, how he was worthless, how nothing mattered. That this would be better for everyone, if he just…went away. It had become unbearable, Ilya just wanted his brain to stop, to shut up.
“Why?”
The word shocked Ilya out of his spiral, he finally lifted his head to met Shane’s eyes. He studied them.
They were beautiful. So big and brown, and honest. And they were full of tears because of him.
God, that made Ilya feel even worse. For some reason, this guy gave a shit about him and he was ruining it like he ruined everything.
“I, uh…” he didn’t know what to say. There was no way he could put it all into words.
“I don’t want you to die.” Shane’s voice was so tiny and broken.
Fuck. Ilya had honestly thought that no one would give a shit. He certainly didn’t give a shit about his own wellbeing.
Why did Hollander even care? The voice in his head had been telling him he was worthless for so long, he was struggling to comprehend that to Shane, he might not be.
“I don’t want to die either.” He replied after sometime.
It was true. Deep down he didn’t, he just didn’t know how else to deal with the constant horrible thoughts anymore and the part of him that hated himself was a lot louder than the part that didn’t.
Both men sat in silence. He knew Shane would have more questions, probably hundreds more questions but right now they were both still. Just the sound of breathing and a sniffle every now and again.
Other than the glance into Shane’s eyes, which had broke Ilya’s fucking heart, he had had his head down.
He felt like shit. His head was killing, he was completely exhausted mentally and physically.
“You promise you didn’t take any pills?”
He tried to focus and remember, had he taken any? He’d already been drinking for a while at the point he had decided that that’s what he was going to do. He remembered it was a struggle to get the bottle open, had he maybe taken a couple? No. He’d had a cigarette and then, that must have been when he passed out.
“I promise.” God, he felt pathetic.
“Good.”
Shane let out a big sigh of relief and then took Ilya’s hand. It completely caught him off guard. What the fuck is he doing?
Shane interlocked his fingers with Ilya’s and gave his hand a little squeeze. Ilya hadn’t felt the warmth of another human in a long time, he’d told himself he didn’t deserve it.
“You need sleep.”
Ilya nodded. His eyes fixed on their tangled fingers, he braced himself expecting Shane to get ready to leave.
“I’m not leaving you on your own.” Shane said as he stood, pulling Ilya up with him.
That. Finally made Ilya look up. “What?”
“You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“Oh” Ilya was confused. Surely Shane had better things to do than look after Ilya.
“You’re gunna have to show me to your bedroom.” Shane let out a little laugh which lightened to the room a bit.
“Don’t worry. I’m not hitting on you.”
Which made Ilya laugh a little too. He sniffled a little while he tried to pull himself together before leading the way to his room.
They both got on the bed, fully clothed on top of the covers. Ilya lay down first, naturally going into the fetal position trying to make himself as small as possible. He was so fucking tired. He felt a strong arm wrap around him and a solid body behind him.
Okay. Ilya had definitely not been expecting this. Shane Hollander in his bed, spooning him to sleep, protecting him from the world.
A year earlier…
Ilya took a deep breath through his nose and slowly pushed it out his mouth. Fuck. Why am I even crying? He thought to himself.
Everything has been fine. It was the MHL awards after party, he was there with his team and basically everyone else in the league. He was having a good time, sipping a drink and listening to the conversation, it had been good. He was good.
Then he’d started to zoned out a bit and the room started getting really hot. He realised he hadn’t actually said anything for a while, he wasn’t engaged in the conversation, he was kinda just on the edge of it.
That’s when his brain had started getting loud and paranoia was kicking in. Would anyone care if he wasn’t even there? Could he call any of these people his friends?
Of course not his brain shouted.
They hate you. You’re weak and pathetic. They’d be better off without you.
He clenched his jaw, trying to will the darkness away. He could feel the heavy feeling under his eyes. If someone asks him a question right now, he’s gunna burst into tears.
Ilya headed to the bathroom without a word.
He managed to calm himself down enough to leave the stall. He held his hands under the tap, the cold water was helping reboot his system after the panic attack.
He looked up, his face was red and blotchy. God. It was so noticeable that he’d been crying.
Just then the other stall unlocked and someone headed to the sink.
Ilya hadn’t thought anyone else had been in there, a new wave of panic surging.
They’d probably heard the sniffles and sharp intakes of breath, and then the paced deep breathing.
Ilya glanced in the mirror.
Fuck. Out of all the people who could have heard him having a mini breakdown, it was fucking Shane Hollander.
Really? His arch rival. God, he was probably going to hold this over Ilya or worse, tell everyone that the leagues rage baiting, playboy was actually an emotional mess.
He really didn’t want to make eye contact but when he looked in the mirror again, Hollander was already looking at him.
He looked a bit…concerned.
“Are you okay?” He asked before pulling his focus back to washing his hands.
“Yes.” Ilya replied curtly. No one needs to know about his shit show of a life.
“Are you sure? Cause you…”
Ilya cut him off. “I’m fine.” He said sternly.
He was like a caged animal, scared and hurt but ready to attack. He didn’t need Hollander’s pity.
“Okay.” Shane raised both palms to show he wasn’t a threat. Before giving Ilya a nod and leaving the bathroom.
It had been a few months and the depression and anxiety were definitely getting worse. He’s barely left the house over the summer.
It’s something Ilya had always dealt with on and off since his mother died but this was definitely the worst it had been.
He used to be able to distract himself, partying, one night stands, playing hockey. He used them all to escape himself but it wasn’t enough anymore. He’d lost interest.
Ilya had lost interest in everything, he was just sleepwalking through life. He often struggled to concentrate, it felt like his head was under water and he couldn’t really hear what was going on around him.
He’d withdrawn into himself completely. The only reason he was still playing hockey was because he was paid to do so.
He was exhausted all the time and eating had become a chore. It was a mess.
He’d googled depression and anxiety a few times, he knew that that’s what it was. Some days he wanted to get help, maybe reach out to a doctor or something but he was too frightened, and frankly embarrassed.
What if they told him, he was just weak or broken beyond repair. What if they told everyone and it ended his career? What if they said that this was it? That this was his life, miserable and self destructive.
He didn’t need that confirmation. Not right now.
The All Star weekend was coming up, in the past, Ilya had always been excited for it. It was always a fun weekend, nothing too serious but right now, he was kinda dreading it. He just couldn’t be bothered, he didn’t have the energy to try and socialise. To pretend that his life was nothing but great. It was a mask he wore well but it was becoming more tiring.
At least it was in Florida, Ilya thought. He loved the ocean, it wasn’t something he’d had access to when he was growing up in Russia.
It was the last evening. Ilya hadn’t been at the top of his game, he hadn’t even been in the middle. It had been a bit of a shit show but luckily the team still won so no one seemed to care. He’d mostly kept to himself, making enough small talk to keep up appearances.
Ilya was sat on the bottom step before it met the sand, looking over the beach. He couldn’t see much but he could hear the waves crashing gently. It helped him find a calmness that he’d missed.
“Do you mind if I sit?”
The question startled Ilya causing him to choke on the inhale of smoke he’d just taken. He looked up to see…Hollander. What the fuck was he doing here?
Ilya tried to play down his surprise and the choking.
“Yeah sure.” He shrugged.
The men sat in silence, watching the dark ocean fading into blackness.
“You don’t seem okay.” Shane stated matter of factly.
Fuck. Straight to the point.
Was it that obvious that Ilya was crumbling. It took him a while to reply, he’d started spiralling.
Why was Hollander saying this? Was he just trying to be a nice guy or was he trying to trick Ilya into saying something he’d regret?
Maybe he’d been watching Ilya, noticing things that other people didn’t. But still, they weren’t friends or anything, why did he care?
“Umm, I’m fine.” Ilya finally replied.
“You don’t seem fine”
“What makes you say that?” Ilya was intrigued.
“You just don’t seem like your usual self. Just quiet and stuff. You didn’t seem okay after the MLH awards either.” Shane was fidgeting with his fingers.
“And why do you care if I’m quiet?” Ilya was suspicious of the friendliness and already on the defensive.
Shane let out a little laugh. “Because I’m not a fucking arsehole.”
It was true, Ilya knew it was. Shane Hollander was known for being a good guy and well liked. He could be a bit awkward at times but he was an amazing hockey player and great team leader. He’d came out a year or so ago and taken it all in his stride. He definitely seemed like a genuine person.
Ilya took a chance.
“I’m uhh….not doing so great right now.” Ilya didn’t know why he was admitting this to Hollander.
Maybe because he clearly already knew that there was something wrong.
“Oh” Shane mulled over the small amount of information.
“Has something happened?”
Ilya shook his head.
“Has it…been like this for a long time?” Shane was definitely being careful with what he asked, clearly not wanting to spook Ilya.
Ilya wasn’t sure how honest he wanted to be.
He took a long, slow inhale of his cigarette then nodded. He didn’t know how much he could say before it all got too much and he’d start crying. Again.
Shane didn’t seem to know what to say either. He shuffled his feet a little.
“Are you getting any help?” He finally asked.
“Umm, no.”
This was the most Ilya had told anyone about…the whole thing and he’d hardly said anything, really.
“I don’t really want to talk to a doctor right now.” Ilya admitted.
“Oh. Okay. But is that…um, the best idea?”
Ilya looked at Shane, for the first time during this whole conversation. His brows were furrowed, a mixture of concern and confusion. He looked directly into Ilya’s eyes.
Could he see the pain in them? The sadness Ilya was holding in, just about containing.
They shared a look for what felt like an eternity, it was probably only 30 seconds.
Ilya looked down.
“I don’t know. I just, can’t right now.”
“Sometimes it helps to talk…” Shane started but Ilya cut him off.
“I don’t want to speak to a doctor.”
Maybe he was in denial about the severity of his depression. He just couldn’t bring himself to speak to a professional, not yet.
“You could talk to me.”
The offer caught Ilya off guard. It was so earnest and kind.
He thought about it.
He didn’t want to burden this poor guy with his shit show of an existence but part of him, really wanted to talk. To just get out all these fucked up thoughts and feelings, and finally breathe.
Could he trust him?
Sometimes, his brain made him so paranoid. He couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.
He must have been sat in silence for some time.
“You don’t have to, I mean. If you don’t want to. It’s okay…I thought it could maybe help.”
“Sorry.” Ilya shook his head.
“Um, that could be good. Having someone to talk to.” He felt so vulnerable.
“Cool.” Shane smiled. “What’s your number?”
It wasn’t too long before Shane and Ilya were messaging regularly.
Usually, Shane would message first, asking how Ilya was. He’d try to keep it light, just answering with an okay or fine but Shane would always press for more details.
Over time, they developed a genuine friendship. Ilya would ask Shane what he’d been up to, they’d talk about hockey and films. Ilya opened up a bit more about how he’d been feeling over the last year or so, how things had been getting worse and he didn’t know why. Shane often didn’t have any answers but he actively listened and acknowledged Ilya’s struggles.
It had been helping too. Ilya was trying harder to do things to help himself. He was actually eating properly again and going for walks outdoors. He’d started writing things down too, getting it out of his head and onto paper made things feel clearer.
He knew he wasn’t better but there was a tiny part of him that thought it might actually bit a possibility. That he could experience joy again and maybe even be normal, eventually.
There were still dark days, obviously. Probably still more than good days at this point but that was better than before.
He’d grown to be comfortable in the sadness, to be honest. It was familiar.
He tried not to spiral too much, especially about their friendship. Ilya still couldn’t fathom why Shane wanted to help him, why he was worried or why he cared.
He felt like such a burden, surely Hollander was going to see that too. Right?
He’d realise Ilya wasn’t worth the stress and give up on him. Leave him to fend for himself and move on with his perfect life.
The thought terrified Ilya. Losing someone important again…that’s why he kept everyone at a distance, he couldn’t handle it.
Being a defensive arsehole was a form of self preservation. He couldn’t be rejected if he was the one doing the rejecting.
Maybe, that’s what he should do. Keep pushing Hollander away until he got sick and left. Unburdened himself. Ilya would be doing it out of kindness for Shane, obviously.
Boston’s season was over, they hadn’t even been close to making it to the playoffs.
Ilya had gotten drunk which definitely hadn’t been the best idea. He was wallowing in self pity and in self-destruct mode.
So he acted in the only way he knew how, like a fucking arsehole.
Hollander, who of course, was in the playoffs had messaged a couple of times, just checking in and Ilya hadn’t replied.
So he messaged a couple of more times.
Ilya didn’t know what had set him off, he’d convinced himself that Hollander must have seen him as some sort of charity case, but over the course of their interaction, he’d all but told him to fuck off.
It was cold and harsh, and Ilya knew he’d regret it. He pretty much regretted it as soon as he’d done it.
It was better this way though, that’s what he told himself. He was sucking the life out of this poor guy with his worthless existence. He needed to stop being selfish and let him get on with his life.
This way, Hollander could focus on winning the cup and forget about ilya.
His brain had completely turned on him, there was no way out.
Fuck. Ilya was done.
The present Day…
Ilya felt groggy when he woke up. Actually no, he felt straight up disgusting when he woke up. His mouth was dry and the headache was excruciating. He rubbed his eyes and sat up on the bed. That’s when he started to remember.
He looked over at the body breathing heavily, still in a deep sleep on the other side of the bed. Hollander had stayed with him all night.
Tears started to sting Ilya’s sleepy eyes. He’d really fucked everything up this time. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them.
Just then, Hollander started to stir. He stretched his arms out in front of him before rubbing his eyes and turning over to face Ilya.
“Hi.” He said shyly.
Ilya felt like he could barely lift his head, so he didn’t. Just said a muffled “Hi” in return.
He felt a hand on this knee, forcing him to finally lift his head. Shane gave him a little smile.
“You really scared me last night.” He finally said.
“I’m sorry…” Ilya’s voice broke.
His breathing became shallow and irregular as the events of the previous evening played out in his head, and now he was full on sobbing.
“I’m so sorry…I just, I just…I don’t know…” his voice was heightened.
“Hey, hey…it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
By this point, Ilya was basically inconsolable.
Shane pulled Ilya in and hugged him tight. Ilya laid his head against Shane chest and just…cried. Cried until he was completely empty. Once he was finally able to breathe again, he couldn’t help but focus on the beating beneath Shane’s chest. It was steady and soothing, and the rhythm was helping Ilya ground himself back in the room.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been, Shane was silently holding him. Being the rock he needed.
“Thank you for coming” Ilya finally let out.
“Thank you…for everything.” He added.
Shane didn’t move, he kept his arms wrapped around Ilya like a safety blanket.
“You’re my friend Ilya. I will always be here for you.”
“…and right now. I’m kinda fucking terrified of leaving you alone.”
Ilya didn’t know what to do or say, he was terrified of being alone too but he didn’t want to admit it. Hollander already knew how weak he was, he didn’t need to hear it out loud.
“I think you should come to my cottage for the summer.” Shane said, as if it wasn’t a huge deal.
“What?”
Ilya separated himself from the comfort of Shane’s arms and looked him in the eye. In complete surprise.
“Come to my house for the summer…I think it will do you good.”
Ilya was in shock. “I can’t do that. I don’t want to…surely you have plans and stuff? Friends and family to see.”
“Ilya.” He looked at him.
“I want you to come. It’s surrounded by nature, it’s super private.”
He took a breath,
“I know you don’t want to talk to a doctor right now and I’m not going to push you into something you don’t want to do but…you can’t be alone. You’re not well and…I care about you. I want to help.”
He continued “and it’s not like…”
Ilya cut him off, “I’ll come.”
God he was so nervous. Was this a fucking awful idea?
Or was this what he needed, to finally get him out of this rut.