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It was 4 weeks after the plane carrying the Ottawa Centaurs hockey team went down, killing everyone on board, and Hayden went to check on his best friend. Shane hadn't been the same since that day, isolating himself, barely playing hockey, hadn't scored any goals in the games he had played, eventually getting himself benched and not even arguing. Shane had lost weight, getting skinnier by the day like he had stopped eating altogether. The bags under his eyes got deeper and deeper, the lack of sleep obvious in his eyes, the eyes of someone who woke up to nightmares every night.
For the first week, Hayden had thought it was fear, worry that what happened to the Centaurs would happen to the Voyagers. It was the second and third weeks that started to worry Hayden because Shane didn't look like he was scared, he looked like he was grieving, and not coping with said grief. By the end of week 3, Hayden had begun bringing Shane food, checking on him everyday, trying to get his captain to tell him what was wrong. All he got in return was weak, fake smiles, quiet lies about it being "nothing" or more often than not, silence.
The day everything ended started like any other with Hayden saying bye to his kids and kissing his wife before driving to Shane's apartment with a casserole that Jackie made. It was when Shane didn't answer his knock that Hayden began to feel a creeping sense of dread. Something was wrong, he could feel it. When he tried the door and it opened with a light click, unlocked, that feeling tripled. Hayden made his way through the apartment, calling for Shane, trying to find his friend. He found Shane in his room, laying on his bed, wrapped in a hoodie that looks too big on him with his eyes closed in what looks like the first peaceful sleep Shane's gotten in weeks.
Hayden almost backs out to let Shane sleep but that feeling is back, the feeling that something isn't right. So he makes his way to his best friend. He notices several things in rapid succession.
Shane is very still, too still. His complexion is violently pale. There are only 3 things on Shane's bedside table, the turned-on lamp is odd but inconsequential. What catches Haydens attention is the crisp envelope with Haydens name on it and what looks like an empty bottle of pills.
That feeling of dread immediately consumed him as he rushed to his friend side, frantically putting his fingers to his best friends too cold neck, right as his pulse. He waits for what feels like hours before he realizes there's nothing there. He's barely aware of calling 911, telling them that Shane isn't moving, isn't breathing, doesn't have a pulse, how cold he is. He's numb as the operator instructs him on laying Shane flat to do CPR. Has no idea how long he's pumping Shane's chest before the EMTs get there to take over. He barely has the mind to grab the envelope on the bedside before getting into the ambulance, the EMTs grabbing the pill bottle to know what Shane took. They were at the hospital in one blink, and Jackie had her arms around him the next as he stared at the doors they took his best friend through.
It was only after the EMTs and doctors declared Shane as dead, dead from the whole bottle of pills he swallowed, from suicide, that Hayden remembered the envelope in his pocket. The envelope with his name on it, the one Shane left for him, one that might explain everything, why Shane had downed a whole bottle of prescription pain pills with the name 'Ilya Rozanov' on them.
It took Hayden till hours after Shane's death to open the letter, finding inside a crisp sheet of neatly folded line paper and another smaller envelope, thick with its contents. Hayden put the smaller envelope aside and carefully unfolded the paper.
Hayden,
I know you'll probably be the first person to check on me. I'm so sorry you have to find me like this, I'm so sorry I couldn't give you my explanation in person, but I can't do this anymore. I can't live in this world where not even hockey makes sense because nothing makes sense without him.
I write this to tell you why I've left you behind, why I would do something so drastic, and why I've been gone in the head the last few weeks.
You know I met Ilya Rozanov during world juniors, you know of our rivalry, of how much we push each other on the ice. What you don't know is how much I love him. I've loved him for longer than I've admitted to myself. I've probably loved him since the first time we got together after that ccm shoot before our rookie year. I've definitely loved him since I've been in his phone as 'Jane' and him in mine as 'Lily'. And I'm so sorry that you have to find out like this, that you have to learn such a big part of me after I'm gone but I thought you deserved an explanation.
It was 2017 before I let myself start dreaming of the future, of a world where we can be together without having to hide. I dreamt of a ring, a wedding, small children chasing a dog around the yard of our cottage. I dreamt of growing old together, of getting to retire and watch Ilya's beautiful curls turn gray and still being just as in love with him as I have been for years without admitting it. I thought that his move to Ottawa was the beginning of that, that we were finally one step closer to being together, I never imagined it would be what took him away from me.
I need you to understand that I haven't been alive for weeks now. My heart died the moment that plane went down and I've been nothing but a shell since then. Me doing this is the only way I can find to finally be whole again because I've been torn in two pieces since that day.
The only regret I have in doing this is what Ilya would feel about my decision. I know he would be devastated to have his love leave this world the same way his mother did. But I take comfort in it all the same, because at least I know that if I don't end up with Ilya at the end of all this, I will at least be with his mother. I will at least have a part of my love with me, unlike this life where all I can feel is the empty place where he used to be.
I only have one request of you and I've left this in my will. I want you to use everything Ilya and I have, every cent, to start a charity. Teach kids hockey, put all the proceeds towards suicide prevention. I know it's hypocritical of me but it's what me and Ilya wanted, before all of this. I'm sorry to put this on your head but I trust no one else with this.
I also ask that you take care of my parents. I know they have each other, but I also know they love you, and it would make me so happy if you helped them through this.
They know. About Ilya and I.
I hope they understand why I've done this, but I know that doesn't change how much it will hurt them.
I love you Hayden, you were the brother I never had, and I can never thank you enough for everything. But I love him so much it hurts, it hurt every day I was with him and I've gone numb now that he's gone.
I'm sorry, I tried, but I can't help it.
I'm sorry.
Goodbye,
Shane
Written at the bottom of the now tear stained page is a small scrawl in what looks like Russian.
Я иду, моя любовь.
Hayden felt numb as he put the letter down and reached for the smaller envelope, opening it so carefully, like it might turn to ash in his hands. Inside were dozens of pictures, Polaroids. Every single one had Ilya Rozanov in them. Almost all of them were Shane and Rozanov together, smiling, laughing, and being so domestic it hurt. They looked so happy, so in love and hayden couldn't believe he hadn't known, couldn't believe he hadn't seen this.
It took him almost an hour looking at every picture to find the smaller note among the photos.
Please share these with the world, we never got to love each other in public when we were alive, let people know of us in death.