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Shane has been spiralling since fleeing Rozanov's house. It had suddenly become too real. He'd been fine when he was able to tell himself that it was nothing, just meaningless sex, but deep down he knew that it hadn't been meaningless for a long time. Maybe it never had been in the first place.
Back at his hotel room he ignores Hayden and his chirps about whether he'd gotten lucky or not. He puts in his earphones and blocks out everything around him. Shane heads to the hotel gym, he almost gets on one of the bikes but just looking at them reminds him of their draft night. The way Il- Rosanov had looked at him when offering him the water bottle. He gets on the treadmill and runs. Shane runs until his lungs burn and he can’t feel his legs anymore. Shane stumbles of and falls against the wall, his face hidden in his knees. He doesn't know how long he stays there listening to his own laboured breathing, he only lifts his head when he hears the door open.
"You okay in here?" Hayden asks, cautiously walking over and sitting next to him on the floor.
"I'm fine." Shane replies, wrapping his arms around his knees.
"If this is fine I'd hate to see bad." Hayden tries to joke and lighten the mood but it falls flat. "Did something happen with Lily?"
Shane nods into his knees, rocking himself back and forth subtly. "I fucked up Hayd." Shane whispers, "I fucked it all up."
"What happened?" Hayden inquires, gently removing Shane's hands from where they had snaked up to clutch at his hair.
"I panicked." He sobs, "I freaked out. I mean, I thought it was going to just be sex like it always is. I didn't expect to be asked to stay. I've wanted to so many times but I never thought he would actually ask me." He rambles on.
Hayden opens his mouth and then snaps it shut, his brow furrowing. He tilts his head to the side, knowing that he'd already asked many questions but this one in particular was short and yet felt like it held a lot of weight. "He?" Hayden tries to make is voice as gentle as possible as not to spook his friend. It would appear that he was unsuccessful if Shane's widening eyes were anything to go by.
"What?" Shane sounds frightened, even to his own ears.
"You said that you "never thought he would ask." Is Lily a boy?" Shane doesn't answer verbally, just nods his head against his knees again. "I'm guessing that no one knows." Hayden says.
"And they can't." Shane begs, "I'm serious Hayden, no one can know."
"I'm not going to tell anyone. I would never." He hesitates, "So, your parents…?"
"Not even they know. I haven't even told them that I'm gay." Shane admits.
"Jesus, Hollzy. You've just been carrying this. For how long?"
"Off and on casually since the summer before my rookie season.
"Your rookie season?" Hayden exclaims, lowering his voice when Shane shushes him. "So you panicked and you ran."
Shane hums in acknowledgement of the facts, his hands now clenching and unclenching at his side. "I'm sorry."
"What for?"
"For not telling you, for lying to you."
"Shane, you don't have to apologise for any of that. I mean you had to have been scared for what would happen with your career and reputation." Hayden puts a hand gently on Shane's knee, "I'm sorry that you had to deal with all of that. You shouldn't have to be afraid of how it would affect your hockey. I'm also sorry that you felt that it was unsafe to tell me."
"It's not your fault, I just get in my head about stuff and catastrophise everything until I can't think rationally. I think I fucking love him, I think I have loved him for a long time." Shane looks to his best friend for his reaction.
"So, tell him."
"It's not that simple." Shane groans, "It is so far from being that easy. He had ginger ale stocked in his fridge, he made me a tuna melt for fuck's sake."
"What, are they another hockey player or something?" Hayden jokes, his lighthearted smile falls when he sees how his friends face had crumpled. "Oh shit."
"I know." Shane bemoans at the circumstances he's found himself in.
"So, it's a player in Boston, I'm guessing they also play for them…" Hayden trails off his eyes widening. "Shane, no. Not him. Anyone but him."
"It would be less complicated if it was anyone else." Shane agrees, he shakes his head a small smile on his face, "But our whole professional career has been centred around how complicated our relationship is."
"You're telling me that the Ilya Rozanov has ginger ale in his fridge and made you a tuna melt?" Hayden leans his head back against the wall. "As much as I hate the guy, I have to admit that it sounds like he's whipped."
"I fucked it all up though." Shane says sadly, his head dropping back to join Hayden's against the wall.
"How?" Hayden asks, his head lolling to the side so that he could get a better look at his friend.
"We were talking about different stuff and we got on the topic of girls. He asked me if I liked them and I said yes but the more I think about it the more I know that is not the case. Then we got back to making out-"
"Gross." Hayden interrupts.
"He said my first name."
"Okay?" Hayden eyes him curiously, "And that freaked you out because?"
"The whole time we've been doing this we've only ever referred to each other by our surnames. So, him saying that just made it all seem so real and then I used his first name." Shane sighs.
"You were right. This is complicated, probably unnecessarily so." Hayden points out.
"That's when I panicked, said I had a team meeting, and ran." Shane closes his eyes in despair.
"I was going to tell you that I'm fine with you being gay but dating Ilya Rozanov is where I draw the line of my ally ship, but I don't think that's what is needed right now."
Shane huffs a laugh, Hayden's joke breaking through the tension. "It feels so fucking good to tell someone." He says, finally looking at Hayden.
"So, what are you going to do?" Hayden asks him.
"Well, we have a game to play, I'm going to try and talk to him after."
"If you need backup I'm down." Hayden adds, "Especially if it involves me punching the asshole." Hayden squawks when the last remark earns him an elbow on the side.
Toward the end of the second period Montreal and Boston were tied 2-2. Shane kept stealing glances at the Raider's Captain. Any time he'd catch his eye, Ilya turned away. During breaks Shane couldn't help admiring the sweat soaked curls that peaked out from under the Russian's helmet.
Back on the ice they get ready for the puck drop. It's strange, usually Ilya has some kind of witty chirp but this time he's just silent. Shane wins the tense face off against Ilya. He's gliding down the ice toward the goal when he sees Comeau aggressively check Marlow out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t have the time to move out of the way as Marlow loses control of his stick and it flies up hitting him directly in the face. The next thing be knows he's flat out on the ice.
Shane shucks one of his gloves, bringing a shaky hand up to his nose. He lowers his hand to see it covered in blood. He swears, turning over to spit out the blood now running down his face from his nose into his mouth. He palpates around his nose coming to the conclusion that it's most likely not completely broken, a concussion was definitely in the cards though.
"Shit, Hollander." He hears behind him, turning his head he sees Cliff Marlow looking extremely apologetic. "You good man?"
"Me? I feel like a million bucks. Just peachy." Shane nasally deadpans holding his nose trying to stop the bleeding.
The next few hours are a blur. He's ushered off the ice and put in the back of an ambulance that takes him to the hospital to get his concussion checked out. Shane has brief flashes of memory where he heard an accented voice calling out asking if he was okay when he was being helped off the rink.
He wakes up with his nose bandaged and a throbbing headache that was soon dulled to the background of his consciousness when a nurse puts something in his IV.
He's bored out of his mind sitting up in his hospital bed doing nothing. A knock at the door startles him out of his daydream. "Come in." He calls, wincing at how talking makes his nose feel. He's surprised when none other than Ilya Rozanov enters the room, quickly shutting the door behind him.
"Ilya!" Shane sighs, his brain feeling like it is floating out somewhere in the distance.
"Hollander." Ilya replies stiffly.
"You came to visit." Shane wants to smile but the jolt that is sent through his face stops him.
"I come as captain. Won't stay long, just come to apologise on Marlow's behalf. He did not mean to hurt you."
"Oh." Shane's brow furrows, "He didn't mean to. It's all good." If he wasn't high he'd probably leave it there but alas, he was. "I'm sorry." He blurts, tears forming in his eyes.
Ilya looks alarmed by his response. "Hollander-" He starts.
"I was a stupid. Should have stayed." Shane laments.
"You do not need to say anything." Ilya says, shuffling his feet.
"But I do." Shane insists, "I like you, Ilya. Like, I really like you. So much that it scares me. I don't want to be scared anymore."
Ilya moves closer taking Shane's hand in his own. "It is fine."
"No, it's not." Shane sniffles, "I was going to talk to you after the game but then I got hit. I couldn't stop thinking about you. Your smile and your curls." Shane's face drops, "I told Hayden about us."
"What?" Ilya asks warily.
"Well, not outright. I was rambling to him because he found me moping in the hotel gym. I accidentally slipped and referred to Lily as he. I told him how I feel about you and he told me to tell you. I said it wasn't that simple. He made a joke about Lily being another hockey player. I panicked and gave it away. He worked the rest out from there." Shane babbles earnestly, "I am so sorry, I didn't mean to."
Ilya takes a moment to breathe before responding. "He is good? With us?"
"Mhm." Shane nods, "He accepts me, I don't think he quite accepts that I am in love with you."
Shane doesn't realise what he's said until he sees the shocked look on the Russian's face. "In love?"
"Maybe. Probably. Yes." Shane concedes. He is about to spew more nonsense but is cut of by Ilya's lips crashing into his own. He stills for a moment before deepening the kiss a hand snaking up to grab the front of the other man's shirt.
They pull apart breathless. Shane's nose hurts but he doesn't even care.
"Fuck, Shane." Ilya gasps, "Thought I had lost you."
"I'm here." Shane squeezes his hand, overjoyed to hear his name leaving Ilya's lips.
"Pike is smarter than I thought." Ilya quips.
Shane rolls his eyes. "Shut up. Thought I had fucked it all up." He frowns.
"You could never." Ilya squeezes his hand back, "My pretty енот."
"What does that mean?" Shane asks.
"Raccoon." Ilya smirks, gesturing at the dark bruising that now encircles Shane's eyes.
Shane lets go of Ilya's shirt to hit him in the chest though he can't hind the fondness on his face.
They were going to be alright.