Chapter Text
Shane is in his Montreal apartment packing the last things he will need to go to the cottage. He is excited, he is incredibly happy even if he tries his best to hide that fact from his parents and friends (a.k.a just Hayden). The Canadian has the whole trip planned, he wrote a grocery list full of the things that he knows Ilya loves so he doesn’t forget; he has the latest edition of the MHL —with Ilya’s pic as the cover— and a semi-ready love like confession to say out loud. Shane knows this is their chance, their opportunity to say everything they couldn’t in the past years. It is time to say bye to the fear that clings to Shane’s shoulders with force, sinking its claws and fangs. It’s time to be brave, to stand under the sunshine and be as free as possible —but he is no fool, he knows they will need to be careful because of Ilya’s visa and the Voyageurs reputation—. Maybe in the future… maybe they will be able to stand side to side.
(What a dream).
But for now, they will have the cottage and a few weeks. It should be enough. (It will be enough for now).
Shane it’s choosing between two hoodies —a blue Montreal one versus the black and gold he stole from Ilya one night years ago—when the text comes. He has a special tune for Ilya’s (Lily) messages so he is smiling even before he reaches for his phone; smile that last nothing when he manages to understand what he is reading.
Lily
Online
22:05 p.m.
Sorry Hollander.
I can’t go to your cottage.
This is not possible.
I already told you.
We can’t be anything.
Too risky
Too dumb from our part.
This is goodbye.
Shane blinks once, twice, thrice; he can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t… he can’t.
In just a few seconds and with a few words Ilya has managed to crush him.
He can see how bad his hands trembles, he can see how uncoordinated he is when he tries to text back the Russian. His fingers taps the wrong letters, he can’t punctuate his sentences, he is desperate and confused and sad. Maybe Shane shouldn’t be, because they are not something; because they may had fixed something that night in Tampa but Ilya never promised him anything. Shane never said a word that resembled a vow. Maybe this was the only logical outcome, the only possible final for them. Or maybe not, maybe Shane needs to tell Ilya he really wanted to spend time with the blonde in the cottage, that Shane really want’s to talk, to plan, to do something with them…
Lily
Online
18:05 p.m.
Sorry Hollander.
I can’t go to your cottage.
This is not possible.
I already told you.
We can’t be anything.
Too risky
Too dumb from our part.
This is goodbye.
Please
Ilya
Pelase
Takl to em
Call me
Asnwer me
1 missed call from Jane
Pls
Please anwser me
I want you to come to the cottage
I want to talk to you
I want to spend time with you
You are welcome
So welcome
Pls
We can find a soluition
A plan
Not delivered.
Unable to reach the contact.
Ilya has blocked him, Shane is nothing more than a number on a list full of names that are forbidden in the Russian phone. He can reach him, he has more ways —he can tell Farah to call Ilya’s agent and arrange a meeting, he can send a mail, he can go through the League official channel— but the thing is that not even after Sochi o Las Vegas has Ilya blocked him. Not even the months Shane spent with Rose. But now? Now he is nothing, he has nothing, he is sitting alone in his apartment with the city light shining outside his windows and a thousand doubts plaguing his mind. The night is long for Shane and when morning arrives and his bag is still half empty and his phone is not on mute but no sound has been heard is when he laughs with no joy, it’s just a sad tired sigh.
Shane tries and tries, he tries to send another text, to dial another call hoping that maybe that will be the one Ilya answers but every message is undelivered and every call is sent to voicemail. He keeps his plans, he tries to be an optimist, because maybe Ilya is just as terrified as he is, maybe he needed to go to Russia to deal with another family situation; maybe Shanes phone will lit up with a message coming from another number and maybe Shane will hear another call in a foreign language.
But that does not happen and silence is the one thing Shane can feel under his fingertips.
The rest of the world keeps going and his phone is full of texts coming from the chat of the Voyageurs and private messages from Hayden asking about his recovery. He reads about his teammates enjoying their vacation with their partners —girlfriends, wives, friends—. He reads his mother's plans for the next season and his sees his father’s finished puzzles. Ilya is nowhere to be read, to be heard, to be seen. No pictures, no calls, no voice notes or cheeky one sentence remarks.
It’s not until the third day when his phone is vibrating more than usual but Shane knows is not the blonde, he is tempted to not read whatever message has been sent to him —and he should have done that—because it is not Ilya (he was right) but it’s related to him. Comeau has sent a link to the group and apparently everyone has already opened it because they are saying things like ‘unbelievable’ and ‘someone managed to tie him or ‘she is hot. Shane clicks it and he can physically feel his heart being broken in that moment. Because there, in that gossip website that calls itself a ‘newspaper of the modern era’ (weird moto but whatever), as big as possible and filling his whole screen is a picture of Ilya with a woman. Ilya with his golden curls and dashing smile holding the hand of a redhead woman who is smiling as big as possible looking at Ilya with so much love that is painful to watch.
Shane scrolls down and the rest of the pictures are worse, so much worse.
Because this first one could may be a picture of them in a date, a casual encounter; something that Ilya does regularly, but the next ones? The next ones are final, definitive.
Ilya is standing there, in the middle of a room with gray walls and no windows that looks suspiciously like one of the rooms in Boston City Hall. Svetlana and Marleau are by his side and he is holding the woman’s hand with so much tender that Shane begins to wonder if Ilya had ever hold him like that in all of the years they spent together. She can be seen better in that picture; she is wearing a long withe dress with purple flowers —not lily’s fortunately for Shane’s heart—, and her red lipstick is a bit smudged. She is angled towards Ilya, a golden band shining in the hand he is holding; her other hand? Oh… her other hand is on her belly, accentuating the soft yet evident curve of the pregnancy.
It’s too much.
Too much.
Shane can’t keep looking. He can’t keep doing it, so he throws his phone across the room and hears the glass shattering into a thousand pieces. Still, there’s fewer pieces than the ones that belongs to his broken heart.
He chooses to feel everything, to cry for a long time, he wants and needs that. He will go to the cottage and he will do the food he had researched and he will be in his silent retire for two weeks. And then, then he will be okay, he will be better. Shane just needs to accepts that everything is over, that there is no chance to be with Ilya, that they were not destined to be anything, not even a footnote on each other book. He just needs a second to remember how to breathe.