Work Text:
murmuration (noun) /ˈmɜː.məˈreɪ.ʃən/: a large group of birds, usually starlings, that all fly together and change direction together, or the act of birds doing this
The first time they both felt the ache, they didn’t think much of it. They were on their way back home from the championship in Switzerland, after having made it all the way to the finals. The games had been long and hard, the opposing teams strong, and ultimately strong enough to beat them to the cup. It was no surprise that they felt sore, and sometimes, when they had both played several games in a row, it was hard to tell their pains apart.
They had grown used to it over the years. The pains and aches they felt from the other had become more manageable since they had gotten together, and most days they barely even thought about it anymore, unless one of them contracted a more serious injury. Shane had felt Ilya’s broken collarbone for weeks – something he had complained about for just as long, since he still had to play while Ilya could rest. Likewise, Ilya had felt a dull ache in his fingers for several weeks, after Shane had broken his during a brawl that had gotten out of control – though Ilya still wasn’t sure how Shane, of all people, had gotten into that one and had walked out of it with broken bones no less.
Shane told Ilya that they probably needed a few days to recover from the tournament, and when the ache faded, it was forgotten about just as quickly as it had appeared.
Everything was back to normal soon enough, which meant that outside of their own and each other’s injuries, there was nothing to worry about.
Until the strange aches and pains returned. Easy to ignore at first, because they had played hockey long enough to not even notice minor incidents and bruises any longer. Harder to ignore after a while, because the sensations didn’t match any of their regular injuries.
Still, they both felt uncertain, and it was Shane who briefly wondered if Ilya was hiding injuries from him again when he felt a dull throb in his shoulder.
“Hit your shoulder again?” He asked one night, the question innocent enough.
“No.” Ilya shook his head and looked at Shane, who was rubbing his shoulder while sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Then why is my shoulder hurting?” Shane looked up at Ilya, who couldn’t help but smirk.
“Because you’re getting old?”
“Ilya, I’m 29.”
“Exactly. Ancient. Almost Scott Hunter old.” Ilya teased, and Shane huffed, but didn’t mention the shoulder pain again, even though Ilya had to admit that he was feeling the same strange ache.
It was Shane who realised what was different about these pains first.
“Remember the time before our rookie season? When we kept screwing up our joints because we tried to keep up?”
“Yeah, sucked a lot. I don’t miss that,” Ilya nodded, wondering where Shane was going with this.
“This feels exactly like that. Like rookie mistakes and underdeveloped skills,” Shane carefully explained, though he wasn’t sure if he was making any sense – because why would they be feeling that way, when they were both way past their rookie years?
But Shane wasn’t wrong, and that was the problem.
These aches felt a lot like a young body still adjusting to the demands of a professional hockey career. Like the types of injuries young players accumulated before they learned to avoid them by improving their technique. Like long days of repetition until exhaustion and beyond.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Ilya softly retorted, and Shane had to agree, but there was no denying it, even if they didn’t have all the answers.
At first, they wondered if their bonds had changed, if maybe there was something wrong with them. Some malfunction, perhaps. But while the aches were persistent and recurring, they always went away again days later.
Some weeks, there was no notable pain, and life continued as usual, leaving little to no room for worries between travel and games and the play-offs.
Off-season was mercifully calm, with little to no incidents, though they still felt the occasional pull or throb, but they were hopeful that maybe it had simply been the stress of the season that had gotten the best of them, and they would return back to normal once they had given their bodies the chance to rest and recover.
Luca Haas joined the Centaurs the following season.
They were used to welcoming the new rookies by now, always looking forward to the first weeks with their new teammates, because it was exciting, and Ilya usually thought of a million ridiculous ways to make them feel at home with their new team.
It was no different with Luca, though he appeared slightly more reserved at first, but he eventually warmed up to them, and both Ilya and Shane quickly noticed his talent, even if he still made some of the rookie mistakes they had made all those years ago.
Everything was back to normal once they had found each other as a team - until it wasn’t.
During one of their scrimmages, Ilya tried to pass the puck to Luca, who scrambled to catch it, only to twist his ankle at an awkward angle during a sudden turn, cursing between gritted teeth as he went down on the ice.
It wasn’t a major injury. It was enough to send a sharp pain shooting up his leg, causing him to hiss in pain as he straightened it out on the ice.
It was enough to send the same sharp pain shooting up Shane’s leg.
It was enough to send the same sharp pain shooting up Ilya’s leg, too.
Their eyes both shot up, and they looked at each other across the ice, shock and surprise written across both of their faces as they simultaneously realised what was happening.
The pain wasn’t theirs.
It never had been.
And for the first time since the Olympics, they knew exactly who it had belonged to.
Luca was sitting on the ice, pulling off his gloves to check for possible injuries, unaware of Ilya and Shane’s inner turmoil as they both fixated their gazes on him.
Ilya managed to pull himself out of his state of shock first, skating over to Shane to check on him.
“Shane,” he quietly spoke up, his voice sounding insistent, willing Shane to look at him.
Shane’s head slowly turned, mouth opening and closing before he breathed out a weak, “What the fuck?”
“I know,” Ilya confirmed, unsure of what else to say as he processed this new piece of information.
“No.” Shane suddenly replied, and Ilya looked at him then in confusion.
“No.” Shane repeated, “This can’t be true. It’s impossible.”
“Apparently it is not.” Ilya unhelpfully replied, earning himself a glare.
Only.
It wasn’t impossible.
It was unheard of, perhaps. Frowned upon by some.
Multiple soulmates. Multiple bonds.
It happened. Not a lot, but they had both heard the stories.
Only.
A lot of them were one-sided. One partner bonding with someone else, or both partners having separate bonds with different people. Rarely ever both partners sharing the same bond with another person.
The pain was clear, though. Unmistakable. Impossible to ignore or explain away.
Then, it all fell into place so suddenly that it almost knocked the breath from Shane’s lungs.
The Olympics.
Switzerland.
Luca.
He had told them that he had attended their games, had loved being able to watch them play in person.
That’s what had set off their bond, that’s when it had all started.
Luca hadn’t even realised what he had set into motion. Or had he?
“We already have a soulmate,” Shane whispered, still grappling with this new reality they found themselves in.
“We have another soulmate now.” Ilya gently told him, and it felt like he was speaking it into existence all over again.
“How’s that possible?”
“I don’t know,” Ilya honestly replied, “But we can figure it out.”
On the bench across the rink, Luca was talking to another rookie, completely oblivious to the conversation Ilya and Shane were having.
His blond curls damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed from the exertion of the scrimmage.
He looked so young like that, and suddenly every unexplained pain they had felt made sense. Every twisted ankle, every sore wrist, every bruised shin. Every strained muscle. All injuries of a young player still figuring out what it meant to be a professional hockey player.
When Luca looked back up from re-tying his skates, he met their eyes, briefly, just long enough to smile at them, to reassure them that he was okay again.
A familiar, warm feeling settled beneath Shane’s ribs then.
Not the same overwhelming, all-consuming certainty he had felt with Ilya all those years ago. This felt softer, gentler, like finding something he didn’t know was missing. Like realising there was something missing, all along.
He still recognised this feeling with a startling clarity.
Ilya, standing by his side, had the same sequence of emotions coursing through him, and when Shane looked over to him, he could see it reflected on his face.
Then, the pain changed.
It dulled, to a faint throb.
Not because Luca was magically fine again.
Not because the bond was suddenly gone.
Because it was beginning to settle.
They had found their missing soulmate.
For almost a year, their bodies had tried to tell them something, but it was only now that it was all falling into place.
Now, their soulmate was standing mere feet away, adjusting his gloves and preparing for another drill, leaving Ilya and Shane to wonder if he had been feeling the same, all along.
There were many questions left to be answered, as a once certain future was being flipped upside down by a person neither of them had known even a year ago.
They had always thought that finding each other would be the end of their soulmate journey, but looking at Luca now, they realised that the universe had offered them the chance to experience it all one more time.