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Shane was 13 when he experienced his first seizure. He was in his French class and he had been listening to his teacher explain grammar rules and the next thing he knew everyone was staring at him while Madame Dumont called his name. It felt like he'd travelled forwards in time. Apparently he had been asked a question and no was able to get his attention. Shane had been sent to the principal's office for ignoring his teacher and getting distracted in class. When his parents picked him up at the end of the day he'd cried to them that he didn't mean to and he hadn't known what happened.
Yuna and David had been concerned because their son was the definition of a model student. They could barely think of a time where Shane had ever gotten in trouble at school. The only occasion that comes to mind was in the first grade when his new sweater had a tag that dug into the back of his neck. His teacher had asked him to put it on because it was freezing and Shane had refused, going as far as throwing the offending item in the man's face. It was not long after this that Shane received his autism diagnosis. The first time they both witnessed one of his seizures was a week later.
The Hollander's were sat around their dining room eating dinner and discussing Shane's latest hockey game. "It was challenging but a lot of fun. I think I need to work on my backhand but…" Shane trailed off.
"But what, honey?" Yuna said, taking a bite of her dinner. She looked up when Shane didn't reply straight away. "Shane? Sweetheart?" David reached across the table and placed a hand on his arm.
Shane didn't respond. He just sat with his eyes half closed and a subtle tick in his jaw. Just as fast as it started it ended. Without missing a beat Shane went back to rambling about his backhand.
A few months and multiple tests later, Shane was diagnosed epileptic. Doctors explained that statistically people with autism are more likely to have epilepsy than the general population. What he had experienced were absence seizures. When he was in the hospital he had a tonic-clonic seizure while hooked up to an EEG.
Shane refused to let this hold him back. He'd worked far too hard to throw it away. He saw specialists and dieticians, he got to the point where his epilepsy was under control. Every team he ever played on was given training on what to do in the case that he has a seizure. Finally it paid off, he made it to the big league.
Ilya Rozanov was an asshole, this Shane was sure of. He was also pretty sure that he had too much vodka. Shane is kicking himself now. He'd left Ilya's Vegas hotel room and made it to the end of the hall before he turned back around and knocked on his door.
"Hollander, what part of goodbye is so hard to understand?" Ilya groans openings the door.
"I need to come in." Shane rushed out, running an anxious hand through his hair.
"Hollander?" Ilya looks uncertain.
"I'll explain everything I just need to be somewhere private first." Shane begs, "Please Rozanov."
Ilya steps back allowing Shane to push past him. "Hollander, what is going on?" Ilya was quite concerned now. He'd never seen Shane acting this way. He watched the other man's fingers twitch against his thigh.
"I have epilepsy. I have seizures. I've had them since I was 13." Shane sits on the floor, grabbing a pillow from the bed. "I'm usually pretty responsible about avoiding triggers but I was dumb and had your stupid fucking vodka." Shane rambles as he sets up for what is not going to be a fun time.
Shane's words are beginning to slur amd Ilya has too listen very carefully to catch them all. "Epilepsy and seizures? I do not know these words." Ilya looks confused as to why Shane is now lying on his hotel room floor with a pillow under his head.
"I don't know what it would be in Russian. Um, it's like when you black out and shake on the floor. That's probably a shit explanation but my brain isn't working right now."
"Эпилепсии." Ilya whispers. "I will call someone."
"No don't. Only call if it lasts more than 5 minutes. When it slows down and I stop moving or I vomit, roll me on my side." Shane struggles to stay concious. "Don't touch me otherwise. Talk maybe. It's less scary when someone talks."
Ilya watches Shane's eyes roll back and his body begins to make little jerking movements. Slowly it ramps up. Ilya grabs his phone, watching the time. He remembers that Shane said to talk. He had no clue what to say so he just commentates an old hockey game he has playing on the TV. It's probably all nonsense but he does it anyway. His voice shakes as he watches the muscles in Shane's body contract in a way that has to be painful. "There is Scott Hunter. This was many years ago when young and not dinosaur." Ilya narrates, not being able to stop himself from chirping the man, even through a television.
He watches the time tick over the 2 minute mark when Shane's movements slow down.
"There that is good, Hollander." He whispers as the tension in the other man’s body streams out. Ilya realises that he's able to take a full breath. He hadn’t even noticed how shallowly his breaths had become.
Ilya quickly rolls Shane on to his side like instructed and waited. Having nowhere to put his nervous energy he strokes Shane's hair. The man before him is so strong and very beautiful. Ilya's heart hurts thinking about how he’d kicked Shane out of his room not long ago. It was all Russia's fault. Well, Ilya was not letting Russia take anything else from him.
His thoughts are interrupted by gagging. Ilya grabs a towel he'd discarded over the back of a chair and lays it out on the floor by Shane's mouth just in time for him to expel his stomach contents on to it. Ilya rubs a hand up and down Shane's spine. "That is good, Hollander. You are okay." He says making sure there is nothing left in the other man’s mouth.
It takes 6 minutes for Shane to fully open his eyes. His eyelids flutter softly and he looks around the room dazed until finally his eyes land on the Russian. "'Lya?" He slurs.
Ilya is a bit taken aback by the usage of his first name but Shane is pretty out of it so he jumps into action. "I am here." He confirms.
Shane takes a few minutes before stating, "I had a seizure."
"Yes." Ilya confirms simply.
"My mouth tastes bad." Shane winces.
"You threw up. I have mouthwash in my bag if I help you to the bathroom you can use?"
"Please." Shane sighs. Ilya helps him slowly sit up, once that is successful he eases him upright to a standing position.
"You are good?" Ilya checks in.
"I'm fine." Shane let's Ilya guide him to the bathroom, he leans on the sink for stability while Ilya grabs the mouthwash from his bag. Ilya returns giving him the bottle and exiting the room again. While Shane swishes the liquid around in his mouth Ilya returns with the soiled towel. He throws it in the bathtub and washes his hands. Shane spits and says, "That's so gross."
"I will leave big tip for cleaning staff. Bedtime for you now." He ushers Shane out of the bathroom and over to his bed.
"I can go back to my hotel room. I'm fine now."
"Hollander. You can not have," Ilya thinks back to what Shane had called it, "a seizure on my hotel floor and then leave." He helps the other man out of his shirt and pants, folding them just like he'd seen Shane do many times before. "We will talk in morning. You sleep."
"Fine." Shane says his eyes already closed once he's under the covers. Soon enough the room his filled with his quiet, steady breaths. The sound settled something within Ilya, he would not be able to forget the gasping sounds that had left Shane's mouth has he twitched rhythmically on the ground.
He doesn't sleep a wink that night. He stays up in bed next to Shane, watching him sleep. The Canadian had always seemed so strong and steadfast, and Shane was all of those things. To be able to go out there on the rink and play at the level he does is amazing. He doesn't hold anything back and he doesn't let anything hold him back. He has the same right as everyone else to be there.
Ilya understands why Shane had never told anyone. He's already seen as the Asian hockey player, Shane obviously doesn't want to also be seen just as being a part of another minority group. He doesn't want to be some inspiration story. Shane just wants to play hockey.
Shane wakes up in the morning, rolling over he opens his eyes and recoils when he finds Rozanov staring back at him. "Jesus Christ."
"No, close. It's Ilya." He smirks.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Shane asks, exasperated.
"Making sure you do not perish in your sleep." Ilya simply says. "Would you rather I wake up with dead man in my bed?"
"I'm not going to die." Shane rolls his eyes, stretching out his sore muscles.
"Hollander, that was really fucking scary last night." Ilya admits quietly.
Shane looks back over at the man who is looking at him earnestly. "I'm fine, I promise. I don't get seizures often. I'm very good about taking my medication on time and avoiding triggers."
"What triggered this one?" Ilya inquires.
"Most likely the alcohol last night."
"Hollander, you let me give you trigger for seizure?" Ilya looks shocked.
"I didn't let you, I wanted to." Shane adds, "To drink I mean. I did not want to have a seizure."
"This is why you do not drink." Ilya realises. "You let me call you boring."
"It's easier than having to explain my whole medical condition." Shane says,
"So, your team knows, are they good about it?"
"Yes, they're pretty good. They all have training in case I have a seizure. I work with my team doctors and my specialists to make a health plan that benefits me and lets me play."
"You didn't tell me." Ilya sounds hurt by this fact.
"Like you care. You couldn't get me out of your room fast enough last night." Shane scoffs.
"That is because I am an asshole and a coward." Ilya says, thoroughly chided. "I feel too much when I'm with you. In Russia I was distant because it is not safe for people like us there. I did not want you in any danger because of me."
"You could have just told me this." Shane says with a frown.
"Russia is not known for great communication. My family is especially bad."
"I'm sorry that your family sucks." Shane wriggles closer.
"My mother didn't suck." Ilya says sadly.
"She died?" Shane asks, receiving a small nod in return. "Can I ask how she died?"
"It was an accident." Ilya knows this isn't true. "That is what my father says anyway."
"What happened to her?" Shane asks taking his hand.
"She accidentally swallowed a bottle of pills." Ilya says this with no emotion on his face. His expression cracks when he adds, "I was 12. I found her."
"I'm really sorry." Shane doesn't know what else to say.
"She was strong and beautiful but so very sad."
They lie there together in silence.
"I feel too much when I'm with you as well." Shane admits.
"You do?" Ilya feels hope lighting up his chest.
"Yeah." Shane smiles shyly.
Ilya catches his lips in a sweet gentle kiss. Shane leans in, feeling the emotion through the contact.
They have no idea what is going to happen next but they'll face it together.