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If there’s anything that Ilya hated it was Shane’s diet. Not because it was boring, (well that too) but because Shane would always comment on his food choices. It was annoying and to an extent, kind of hurtful. The way he turned his nose up the mere mention of McDonalds made him feel almost guilty. But it sounds better than bland smoothies and eggs everyday for breakfast.
Shane and Ilya’s lives were so busy that it was never a passing thought that something might be wrong with Shane. Ilya was the one with something wrong right? He felt the same way his mother did. Except he didn’t know if he was getting better or not. Shane on the other hand seems to have it all: his boyfriend, his family, plays for the Voyageurs; he has everything he would ever want. Well, if you leave out the secrecy of their relationship then yes, it is.
Ilya was supposed to be in Ottawa right before the playoffs, but to his dismay, he broke his arm during a more than intense game against the Admirals. This was the first time the Centaurs was so close to the playoffs, then Carter fucking Vaughn stole that from them. If anything, staying at Shane’s cottage made him feel a little better about the situation, since he gets to spend more time with his boyfriend. The gleam of Shane’s face was priceless when he came home from practice, a smile like that only Ilya could conjure up. Even on the days he lost games, he would still come home smiling, knowing that Ilya would be there waiting for him.
Shane was insistent on caring for Ilya while he recovered, but naturally, he refused. He could handle himself after all, and Shane has more important things to worry about than Ilya’s broken arm. He knows how stressful playoffs are for Shane, so he doesn’t want to add to his worries.
“Ilya!” Shane called from the front door, the thumping of his footsteps coming closer to their bedroom. Ilya would have met Shane at the door, but he was too tired to get out of bed. It’s 10 at night, but he was still elated to see Shane like always. A look of confusion spread across his face as Shane entered their bedroom carrying a huge red box with a bow.
“What is this?” He furrows his brows as Shane gently sets the box in his lap.
“A gift for you, since you can’t be in the playoffs this year.” Shane says while reaching down to kiss Ilya’s forehead.
“Gift. Okay.” Ilya says, unraveling the bow, tipping the lid off into the floor. He ruffles through the gift paper, finding a smaller box inside.
“Is this a prank?” He says looking up, Shane’s face covered in glee. Ilya looks back down at the small black box, sliding the top off, revealing the loon pendant inside. Ilya’s jaw slacked as he lifted the loon off of the foam holder, the gold shimmering in the lamp light.
“It’s beautiful.” He reaches his arms out for Shane, who took no time to hold him softly. Ilya was lost in thought, over this sweet gesture from his boyfriend, to how warm he felt compared to how cold the bedroom was.
Shane tried to pull away, but Ilya refused it, gripping his grey hoodie as tightly as his weak hand could, pulling him back in.
“No. Stay.” Ilya said, his lips meeting Shane’s again.
“Okay.” Shane said, sliding the now empty box off onto the floor. Throwing all of his weight onto Ilya, a sound of relief following, like his weight was comforting.
“Mm. Perfect.” Ilya says, thumbing at his new loon pendant, as Shane kisses into his neck. He stares at it again, noticing every detail down the small engravings for the feathers.
“I watched the game tonight.” Ilya said, breaking the tender silence. He could feel Shane pouting without looking at him, stuffing his face into Ilya’s neck further.
“I was terrible,” Shane’s voice breaking, “I’m the reason we lost.” Squeezing Ilya harder than he usually would.
“ty byl potryasáyushchim.” Ilya whispers into his hair. Sitting the pendant down on the bedside table, running his fingers through Shane’s hair with his broken arm. “You should eat before you sleep.” Kissing the top of Shane’s ear.
“I’ll do it in the morning.” Shane’s voice muffled while his grip loosened on Ilya.
“First thing in the morning. Okay?” Ilya barely gets out, his eyes getting heavier.
“Okay.” Shane says, resting his hand on Ilya’s shoulder. “First thing.”
It was also picturesque the way that the night had been. The only bad thing being that Shane lost his game against San Francisco. But the loon gift, and the two being together more than made up for it.
***
Shane was the first to rise in the morning. Ilya woke up to his right side cold from where Shane had once housed himself. The panic of where Shane went immediately soothed by the sound of the shower running. Tossing the sheets off, Ilya snatched his pendant off the table, fiddling with it in the mirror. He tried for several minutes to put it on, but his weak hand made that infuriatingly difficult. Just when he was about to give up he heard a familiar voice behind him.
“Let me help.” Shane said, effortlessly hooking the two chains together. Ilya smiled as the loon fell right above his cross. Shane appeared next to him, still in his towel, leaning against Ilya.
“Do you like it?” A smile forming at the corners of Shane’s mouth. His fingers lightly brushing up against Ilya.
“Perfect. Like you.” Ilya says, looking at Shane through the mirror. “Have you eaten yet?” He turns to Shane, holding his hands.
If there’s anything Shane’s diet was doing for him is that it’s keeping him looking amazing. Like it would matter to Ilya anyways, he would love Shane no matter what he looked like. The way his body glistened in the morning sun was incredible. His hair was still wet and messy, but in that way that was cute to Ilya.
“Yes.” Shane says as Ilya reaches for his lips. The warm Montreal sun encasing their kiss through the large windows.
And almost on cue to expose Shane’s lie, his stomach rumbles. A look of misery spread across his face as he pretends that just didn’t happen.
“Shane.” Ilya says, planting his hands on his shoulders.
“Okay. I haven’t yet.”
“Do you want to eat now?” Ilya runs his thumbs along Shane’s collarbones.
“Yes. But after.” Shane’s face suddenly covered in a huge grin.
“After what?” Ilya’s face puzzled like the night before.
Shane’s head drops, his hands reaching for his navy blue towel.
“Ah. Because we didn’t last night.” Ilya says, scooping Shane up, unconcerned with how much it hurts, carrying him to the edge of the bed.
Getting too caught up in Shane’s sloppy kisses, he crashes into the bed, his knees taking the brunt of it. He drops Shane, letting out a yelp, clutching his shins.
“Oh shit are you okay?” The concern evident in Shane’s voice.
“That will leave a bruise.” He says through gritted teeth, returning his attention to the ravishing man in front of him. “I’ll be okay.” Kissing up the inside of Shane’s legs, a sigh of relief escaping from him.
***
Ilya knew Shane’s diet inside and out. Mostly because he made his food for him, and it’s too basic to forget, no matter how nasty it is. A protein smoothie and boring scrambled eggs is all he ate for breakfast. Ilya preferred just coffee, usually subsiding his intense desire for a McGriddle on his way to practice. Even Shane’s coffee was bland; no cream or sugar.
“Thank you.” Shane said, looking up at Ilya through his glasses. He peers at the plate and glass cup next to him.
“You should eat now, emails can wait.” Ilya says, leaning against the counter. Shane nods in agreement, sliding his laptop away from him.
Ilya smiled, soaking up how adorable Shane looked in his glasses. He didn’t wear them all the time, but when he did it was always a treat for Ilya. Even though they’re only meant for reading, Ilya would request he wear them for special occasions. That was, yet another thing that he found perfect about his boyfriend.
He watched Shane pick at his plate over the next few minutes, only stopping to drink coffee or sip his smoothie. Ilya wanted to ignore that because some days Shane was just picky like that.
“Is something wrong?” Shane says, spooning eggs into his mouth finally.
“No.” Ilya shaking his head, pouring himself another cup.
“What is there?” Sitting down next to Shane.
“Just uhh… emails about our donations from the foundation.” His mouth full of food.
“Good.”
“Yes. Very.” Shane says checking his watch. “Shit.”
“What?” Ilya’s face filled with concern, reaching out for Shane as he stands up.
“I forgot I had a meeting in an hour.” He shouts as he runs to the front door. Ilya stands, trudging his way towards the door. Shane is putting his shoes on like he’ll die if he’s not done in the next 10 seconds.
“Will you be out all day?” Ilya’s voice drained. Just when he thought he’d get some time with Shane between games, he’s busy all of a sudden. Ilya sighs, grabbing Shane’s keys for him.
“I’m sorry. ya tebya lyublyu” Shane wraps Ilya in his arms tightly, swaying side to side. Ilya closed his eyes, breathing in Shane’s cologne.
“It’s fine.” He says, pulling Shane into a kiss, similar to that of newly weds.
“ya tebya lyublyu bolshe” Ilya winks to Shane as he wipes his mouth.
“I don’t know what tastes better, you or your nasty coffee.” Shane says, stepping out of the door.
“It’s the coffee.” Ilya says through a laugh. “When will you be back?”
“Uhh… should be 7 or 8 I think.”
As the door clicks shut a feeling of sorrow and frustration brewed in Ilya’s stomach as he returned to the kitchen. He sits back down at the island, noticing Shane’s almost barely touched food. What a waste, Ilya figured he’d just throw it away since Shane won’t be back until it’s late. As he scrapes the eggs off into the trash bin it dawns on him, Shane barely ate, and he didn’t eat last night. He must be starving right now, Ilya thought to himself. He picked his phone up to text Shane, but decided it was better to not push it. Just another day to spend alone without his boyfriend, so very boring. Ilya laid on the couch, turning the tv on to the highlights from last nights game.
***
It’s 9 pm, and still no sign of life from Shane. Just as Ilya picks up his phone to text Shane his phone buzzes, a message appears.
“I’ll be home in an hour, I had to stop by Hayds to watch the kids for a bit. Sorry :( “ Ilya sighed as he started typing back, hoping he didn’t come off frustrated. “Okay. I’m going to bed now. I miss you.” He stares at his screen longer, watching Shane’s bubble disappear and reappear several times. Eventually Shane did respond, bringing Ilya out of his drowsy state. “I miss you too. Sleep well.” Ilya couldn’t help but smile through his mild disappointment, tossing his phone onto the bedside table. He settled into the light airy grey sheets, pulling a pillow from Shane’s side close to his chest. He breathed in the smell of Shane’s shampoo on the pillow, the citrusy aroma carrying him off to sleep.
***
Ilya’s eyes open, like he was never asleep in the first place. He glances over to the alarm clock on the table, barely comprehending the time.
11:28
In a daze he turns over to the other side of the bed, expecting Shane to be there next to him. Ilya rubs his eyes hard, realizing the bed is empty. A sense of dread swarming Ilya as he sits up, the silence becoming more uncomfortable in each passing moment. Did something happen to Shane? Is he okay? He picks up his phone, the dim screen showing no new messages from Shane. Just as Ilya starts typing to Shane he hears a sound from the kitchen.
He paused for a moment, cautiously rolling out of bed, picking his sweatpants up. He makes his way down the hall, walking as lightly as he possibly could, stopping at the large stone pillar on the corner. Ilya breathes against the cold stone, gearing up to face whatever was making this noise.
Ilya peers to the kitchen, seeing a man, eating in the dim overhead lighting. He looks at the barely visible Voyageurs logo with a 24 under his hood, it’s Shane. The smell hitting Ilya’s nose from across the house—McDonalds. Ilya watches Shane intently, scarfing his hamburger down, sounding like he can’t breathe. Ilya opens his mouth to speak, but Shane grabs a handful of fries, shoving them into his mouth before he can get a word out. A mix of concern and disbelief washed over Ilya, Shane always hated Mcdonalds. He always hated when Ilya ate it, so why is he doing it now? And doesn’t this go against his ‘performance diet’ as he called it? AsIlya’s lips caught Shane’s name, he snatched the bag off the chair, Ilya ducking back behind the wall. His chest rising and falling quickly, starting for the bedroom—- faster this time. He climbs back into bed, pulling the sheets over him as he clicks the lamp on. His mind trying to mull over what he just witnessed, and wondering if he wasn’t supposed to see what was now definitely burned into his memory.
Ilya sat in silence for what felt like ages, before the sound of what he thought was Shane crying carrying its way to their bedroom. Ilya quietly groaned to himself as he made his way back to the end of the hall. Shane was now crumbled up against the island, his sobs getting more infrequent as he struggled to breathe. Ilya’s heart sank, watching the love of his life cry over something. Ilya started cycling through every possible issue he could think of. What would happen if he didn’t step in? And if he did, what would happen then?
A long pause followed where neither of them made any noise.
Ilya’s breathing quickened, tears swelling in his eyes as he fought with his mind on what to do. He clenched his fists hard as Shane let out another quiet sob into his knees.
“chyort” Ilya muttered to himself, making his way back to their bedroom again. He figured that he shouldn’t press Shane on the issue, probably because he thought Ilya might hold it against him. But to Ilya that wasn’t the case at all; it was just a matter of making sure that he was okay. Because there was nothing worse to Ilya than Shane not seeing him as someone to confide in.
Ilya climbed into bed again, turning the lamp off quickly to pretend he was still asleep. Not long after, he felt Shane’s warm hands slide over his waist.
“Did you eat before bed?” Ilya said, trying to make his voice sound as groggy as possible, turning over to Shane, kissing his forehead. He would never bring up what he saw, unless Shane did first.
“Yeah.” Shane whispered, pressing his lips softly into Ilya’s.
Ilya could still tell through the darkness that Shane’s face was red from crying. He pulled him close, gently rubbing his scalp through his thick hair.
After a few minutes the sound of Shane’s snoring filled the room. That was more annoying than Ilya would let himself admit, but at least Shane’s okay now that he’s sleeping.
Ilya tried to sleep, but the thought of what happened was making that impossible. The guilt of if he should’ve intervened or not starting to consume him. What if something worse is happening? What if Shane needed help but was too scared to ask?
Ilya let his mind wander, it finally settled on one thing as his eyes closed.
Hopefully this isn’t something that will ever happen again.
***
From what Ilya saw over the next week, Shane was back to normal. He ate regularly, didn’t skip meals, or have late night cravings (that Ilya noticed). Things seemed to be okay with him, so maybe that was just a one off incident.
Ilya did notice that Shane was eating alone more often. Having breakfast while Ilya was still in the shower, or eating dinner after Ilya has already finished his. He thought with juggling the foundation, brand deals, and upcoming championship that he was just tired. Ilya always slightly neglected himself when things got overbearing.
But when Ilya asked to take over the foundation stuff for the time being, Shane refused. Whenever Ilya pushed for a reason he was shut down, Shane’s reaction harsher than Ilya had ever seen. Ilya could handle answering emails and updating spreadsheets. So why was Shane not taking a break?
It was only a few days until the MLH championships, and Ilya knew how excited Shane was to be within arms length of the Stanley cup. But the pressure Shane had stacked against him would’ve made any other person crumble. He told himself that Shane could handle it. Because he always did, and he seems okay even after something doesn’t go as planned.
A 4th Stanley cup would’ve solidified Shane to create a dynasty for the Voyageurs. So naturally Ilya wanted to do his best to support his boyfriend, to win that cup. Who to him was the best hockey player the world had ever seen.
Ilya couldn’t do much with a broken arm and the inability to support him in public. But he figured that Shane would feel him cheering him on, even behind closed doors where no one could hear it.
Even after a successful season, Shane never dropped his diet. Even for the two weeks he wasn’t playing or practicing he still wouldn’t indulge in ‘gross’ foods. It pained Ilya in a way that Shane wouldn’t even eat a single french fry, or have a sip of vodka when offered.
Ilya started to feel guilty, like he wasn’t taking hockey seriously because he wasn’t eating the part. Yes, Ilya was aware that the Centaurs weren’t a good team, but when they clicked they clicked well. But was Ilya’s diet really a part of their success that he had missed? Or was it Vaughn shoulder checking him just right so he fell in the right place to get injured?
Whatever it was, Ilya thought he might as well try Shane’s regimen to see if it really did play a bigger part than he originally thought. If he was right, then he’d have to give Shane his props.
***
The buzzer rang for the end of the third period. Ilya stared at the tv, looking at the 5 to 3 score.
How could the Admirals beat the Voyageurs this year? They were way less put together and sloppy than the Voyagers were.
Ilya huffed, turning the tv off after hearing the announcer mouth off about Shane’s supposedly bad performance. As if Scott Hunter wasn’t 10,000 years old and played like a damn dinosaur.
Ilya laid on the couch, only the dim lamp keeping him illuminated. He didn’t know what to expect from Shane, maybe a rant or just a sigh of disappointment.
Either way, Ilya couldn’t be more proud of him. To get so close to a Stanley cup for a fourth time was something to celebrate, not just be sad you missed out on.
Ilya felt horrible for Shane, something felt off the whole time he played, like he wasn’t there mentally. Ilya thought he could nap it off until Shane got home, then he could comfort him. Shane was probably more frustrated than anything else, Ilya thought.
As his eyes started to close, his phone rang loudly. “Fuck.” Ilya said, springing upward, answering immediately.
“I’m getting McDonalds on the way home. Do you want anything?” Shane’s voice croaked across the phone.
“Uhh… sure.” Ilya muttered, also not believing what he heard.
“Okay, text me.” Shane said, his exhaustion evident in his tone.
“O…okay? Why-“ Ilya barely started before the sound of Shane hanging up hit his ear.
“Okay then.” Ilya said, easing himself back into the couch cushions. The cool breeze from the air conditioner making Ilya shiver. Ilya pulls a blanket over himself before he can let the possibility of Shane’s thoughts wander into his. The soft feel of polyester cradling his tired body to sleep in what felt like seconds.
***
Ilya wakes up to the sound of the front door clicking shut. He quickly scrambles to his feet, speed walking into the kitchen. Shane sits the large McDonalds bag down on the island, a sigh escaping him. His gaze turns to Ilya, his face smeared with disappointment.
“Shane…” Ilya holds his arms out, motioning him to come closer. Shane takes no time putting himself in Ilya’s embrace. He squeezes Ilya hard, his breaths becoming shaky.
“I failed.” Shane’s voice breaking quickly.
“No you didn’t.” Ilya rubs a hand on Shane’s back, swaying back and forth. “You tried your best.”
“But I let them down.” He lets out a quiet sob, “My best wasn’t good enough.”
Ilya pauses, pulling away from Shane. Wiping his tears away, planting his hands back on Shane’s slumped shoulders.
“Listen.” Ilya peered into Shane’s eyes, seeing every detail of what he seemed to feel in just his gaze. “You’re the best hockey player the NHL has ever seen. You made the Voyageurs good again.”
Shane nods, relaxing more now that Ilya is rubbing his collar.
“You’re amazing. I mean it.” Ilya pressed a soft kiss into Shane’s lips, a smile forming at the corners.
“You think so?”
“No, I know so.” Ilya says, grinning at the sight of Shane’s smile. He pulls him closer, gently pulling his hands in while their lips interlock.
After what felt like a century, Shane pulled away, staring at Ilya’s hands.
“You’re shaking.” Shane says, skimming his thumbs over Ilya’s knuckles.
“Ahh… yes, just hungry and a little tired. That’s all.” Shrugging his shoulders like it meant nothing.
“So should we eat then?” Shane smiled bigger this time, a warm feeling brewing inside of Ilya’s chest.
Ilya nodded in agreement, letting go of Shane, glad he didn’t stay sad for long.
It’ll be okay. He’ll come back from this, Ilya thought to himself, watching Shane prepare their food.
***
Ilya sat next to Shane like he always did, brushing his knee against Shane’s every once in a while.
Ilya’s food was gone before he could blink, but Shane however barely touched his food. He probably took 3 bites maximum of his gigantic burger. Ilya wasn’t surprised, he never really had an appetite after bad games too.
Ilya brushed his hand up Shane’s back, watching him twirl a fry on his plate.
“Is everything okay?” Ilya whispered, though there was no reason to be quiet.
Shane huffed, keeping his eyes fixated on his plate. “Just not super hungry like I thought I was I guess.”
Ilya didn’t know what to say next, since he usually always had a response for everything.
“Do you want to save it for later and just go to bed?” He scratched Shane’s head, ruffling his hair.
“Yeah.” Shane threw his fry down, pushing his seat out. “I’m tired anyways.”
Ilya watched as Shane made his way to their bedroom. His shoulders slumped as he walked, a sharp contrast to his usual confident self.
Ilya looked back at Shane’s plate, feeling sorry for the uneaten food. Setting the plate in the microwave carefully, like it would shatter in a moment's notice.
As the microwave clicked shut he felt Shane’s warm hands slide around Ilya’s waistband.
“What are you doing?”
“I think you can make me feel a bit better.” Shane’s glee apparent in his voice.
“Oh really?” Ilya spun around, pecking Shane on the cheek.
“Yes.” Shane grabbed Ilya’s hand, starting for the bedroom again.
***
Ilya’s eyes slowly opened, the red clock on the bedside table stared at him intensely.
1:09
“What?” Ilya rubbed his eyes, turning over towards Shane. He reached out, his eyes still barely open, but his hand was met by the cold sheets.
Ilya sat up, his eyes wide open now, looking at Shane’s empty side of the bed. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, finding reasons for why he was gone. The bathroom door wasn’t closed and the light wasn’t on, but the bedroom door was still standing wide open.
Ilya could see a faint glow from the kitchen, figuring that’s where Shane was. He threw his flannel on that he stole from Shane, trudging down the long hallway.
He stopped at the stone pillar on the corner like he did that night, but instead of hiding he leaned against it.
He saw Shane, hunched over his plate from earlier, sobbing in between bites. Ilya’s heart sank, the distance between him and Shane started feeling like light years.
“Shane?” Ilya called, his voice low and hushed. He stepped towards Shane, being stopped by his harsh tone.
“Go back to bed Ilya.” Shane said, his eyes not leaving the now almost devoured burger. “Please.”
“Shane… I” Ilya stepped closer as Shane took another big bite.
He could see clearer now even in the dim light. Shane’s face was red and puffy, tears rolling down his face.
“solnyshko…” Ilya moved closer to Shane, wrapping his arms around him. He rested his chin on Shane’s shoulder, squeezing him tighter.
What was left of Shane’s burger fell out of his hands, heavy sobs escaping him. He put his head into his hands, the sound weeping filling the house.
“Baby…” Ilya could feel himself tearing up too, trying to suppress it by kissing the back of Shane’s neck. “Why?”
Shane’s breathing became more intense, each sob becoming more frequent and shallow.
“Hey hey… hey.” Ilya spun Shane around in his chair, cupping his face. “Look at me.”
“Breathe… it’s okay.” Ilya’s voice was soft, comforting in a way that wasn’t innate to him. He strummed his thumbs along Shane’s cheekbones, wiping away any new tears. Shane’s eyes closed, his hands resting on Ilya’s wrists.
Ilya hummed to pass the time, Shane’s breathing stabilized, Ilya dropping his hands to his lap.
“What’s wrong?” Ilya brushed his hand against Shane’s cheek.
Shane shook his head, his beautiful brown eyes finally meeting Ilya’s. “Not now. Later.”
Shane stood, grabbing Ilya’s hand. “We can talk about it in the morning.” Pulling Ilya towards the bedroom, “I promise.”
“Are you sure?” Ilya followed Shane, nearly tripping up the steps.
“Yeah.”
“Okay then…” Ilya threw himself back into bed, letting Shane tuck himself in first.
He felt the warm exhale of Shane on his collar, his arms wrapped around Ilya’s waist. Ilya reached his hands into Shane’s hair, massaging his scalp with his fingers.
“Goodnight my love.” Ilya whispered, kissing Shane’s forehead.
Shane made a noise of what seemed like agreement, his body relaxing into Ilya.
***
Ilya could feel something brushing against the corner of his jaw. He slowly opened his eyes, it was Shane. He was smiling big at him, like last night never happened to him.
“Good morning, handsome.” His voice moved Ilya, filling him with warmth. Ilya kissed Shane, running a hand down his cheek onto his neck.
“Last night.” Ilya hummed, tapping his fingers on Shane’s shoulder.
“Ilya.”
“You said in the morning. It is morning now.”
Shane sighed, shaking his head like the thoughts will just spill out if he does. “I just uh… don’t know how to explain it, or think… you’d understand.”
“Hollander.” Ilya grabs Shane’s chin, lifting his head towards him. “Just tell me. I’ll figure it out.”
Shane nods, “Okay. I’ll try.”
“I’m listening.” Ilya drops Shane’s head, running his fingers back through his curls.
The sound of raindrops crashing into the window fills the silence between them. Ilya turns towards the window, watching the trees sway from the wind. Well, more of a reason to stay in bed I guess.
Ilya looks back to Shane, whose eyes look like they’re about to flood the entire bedroom.
“Shane.” Ilya calls to him softly, reaching for his hands.
“I can’t…” Shane’s voice breaks, crumpling into Ilya as he breaks into sobs.
Ilya pulls Shane in closer, pulling the sheets to cover them more, so as to keep Shane warm.
“Why can’t I—“ Shane’s breath catches, a sob escaping his lungs instead.
“Solnyshko…” Ilya hummed, rubbing the back of Shane’s scalp.
“Good… enough.”
“What?” Ilya felt Shane nuzzle himself into the crook of his neck as he exhaled sharply.
Shane stayed silent for what felt like years. The sound of rain and sniffling filling out the silence.
“Ilya.”
“Shane?”
“It’s too hard.” Shane murmured.
“What is?”’
“This.”
This?
“Being captain. Star center. Everyone expects so much of you.” Shane sniffled loudly, Ilya’s fingers rubbed Shane’s head gently.
“I get it.”
“No Ilya.”
But I do? I’ve been the center since I started playing for the Bears.
“So what? I’m confused.”
“It’s just…” Shane sighed loudly, burying his neck further into Ilya.
Shane paused for a long time, a concerningly long time.
“My best is… I’m terrible. Maybe my diet—-”
“No. No.” Ilya immediately cut him off, refusing to hear Shane talk about himself that way.
“Look at me.” Ilya lightly tugged on Shane’s hair. His glossy brown eyes met Ilya’s, he could sense the sadness that stretched endlessly through the deep brown colour.
“You have bad days, yes? You don’t win or play good?”
Shane nodded.
“But you win a lot right?”
Shane nodded again, a small grin forming at the corners of his mouth.
“So? You’re very good.” Ilya grinned, brushing his fingers under Shane’s chin.
“But…”
“No Shane. There is no but here. You won the cup three times, yes? That's more than my one.” Ilya huffed, trying to be as understanding as possible of Shane. Which immediately flew out of the window when it came to his hockey prowess.
Ilya continued, refusing to let Shane interject. “Shane. You're better player than me.”
Shand sighed, rubbing his face. “Ilya thats—-“
“It’s true. I boast about my ability, but I can’t think of anyone better except Shane Hollander.” Ilya smiled, pressing a kiss into Shane’s forehead.
“Ilya.” Shane pressed his hands into Ilya’s shoulders, rubbing the space around his collarbone.
“Shane?” Ilya answered, his voice calmer than before.
“I wish…” Shane closed his eyes, Ilya considered kissing him again but restrained himself. “I could be like you.”
What the fuck does that mean? I just said you are better player than me.
Ilya started, “Shane what? You make no sense? You’re way better—-”
“No it’s not that. It’s what you… eat.”
What I eat? Why?
“But I eat… garbage?”
“That’s the thing.” Shane slid his fingers down Ilya’s thick arms, Ilya feeling every groove his muscles made. “You eat what you want… and still be good.”
Ilya sighed, catching the point.
“So I guess… my diet meant nothing.” Shane’s voice slipped, going higher than usual.
“Shane, I…” Ilya bent down to kiss Shane, trying to fill his kisses with as much love as possible.
“It didn’t mean nothing.” Ilya’s words seemed sincere enough to him as he pulled away.
“Yes it did. That’s why I’m giving it up.” Shane shook his head.
Ilya nodded, “Are you sure?”
Shane hesitated, slowly nodding in agreement a few seconds later. “Well, probably just more relaxed… I guess.”
Shane nuzzled himself into the crook of Ilya’s neck, his lips skimming over his collarbone. Ilya kept running his hands through Shane’s hair, holding him close like he would shatter if he wasn’t careful.
They both sat in the silence for a while, the sound of the heavy rain soothing both of them.
“Shane?” Ilya whispered, being met with no response, not even a movement from him.
“Sleeping?” Ilya asked quietly, twirling two strands of Shane’s hair between his fingers.
“Mmmm.” Shane mumbled, the low vibration making Ilya’s heart melt.
Ilya closed his eyes, wondering how else to help Shane, his first thought seeming trustworthy.
Maybe he’ll like therapy. I like Galina, so maybe he’ll find someone good too.
It wouldn’t hurt to try.
***
Ilya opened his eyes, watching the trees outside get caught in the breeze, only a slight drizzle hitting the window. He rolled over seeing Shane still fast asleep, clutching his pillow like his life depended on it.
“Hey.” Ilya’s voice was soft as he brushed the back of his hand against Shane’s cheek, causing him to stir.
“Is it time to get up?” Shane murmured, his eyes slowly opening.
“Yes. I will make breakfast, do you want?” Ilya looked long into Shane’s beautiful brown eyes which were still a little red from earlier. Beautiful.
“What is it?”
“Pancakes. Is that okay?”
“Perfect…” Shane mumbled, turning over still holding his pillow to his chest.
“Okay” Ilya hummed, running his fingers through the back of Shane’s head.
Ilya sighed, groaning as he put his foot onto the cool wood tile, his whole body aching. He trudged his way towards the bathroom, seeking comfort in the hot water. He hoped Shane would get up soon, but chances of that were low since he still seemed tired
***
Ilya felt a warm pair of arms wrap around his waist, the smell of Shane’s floral shampoo revealing him before his arms did.
“Good morning sleep beauty.” Ilya teased as he flipped a pancake, feeling Shane’s breath on the back of his neck.
“It smells so good…”
“It will be ready soon. You should sit.” Ilya rolled his neck, using his free hand to rub Shane’s hands that were on his stomach.
Shane moved away, snatching a piece of bacon off the plate on the counter before making his way towards the stools at the island.
“About earlier this morning…” Shane started, trying to find the words before his mouth said the wrong thing. “I’m sorry, I—-“
“No Shane, it’s fine. I know it’s hard…”
Shane kept quiet, only nodding as he rubbed his thumbs together.
There was a long silence that stretched around them, only the sound of the stove keeping the ambience.
“You should try therapy.” Ilya blurted out, abruptly ending the delicate feeling in the room.
“W-What?” Shane stuttered, Ilya turning to see his face plastered with confusion.
“I like Galina, but you don’t know russian, so…” He turned back to the stove, cursing under his breath seeing the pancake starting to burn.
“I.. I know a little, but…?” Shane paused, the stool he was sitting in scraping against the floor. “Therapy? What for?”
Ilya thought for a moment, not really wanting to press further and potentially upset Shane. “For your… what we talked about this morning.” He scratched the back of his neck, waiting for Shane’s reply.
“Oh…” Shane popped the fridge open, pulling out a coke and ginger ale. “Do you think that would help?”
“Maybe.” Ilya nodded, turning to set both of their plates on the island. “Galina helps me.”
“Are you sure? What if they don’t…” Shane trailed off, Ilya reaching for his grey sweater.
“Solnyshko… yes, they understand.” He pulled Shane closer, loosening his grip on him. “They’ll make you feel better. I’m getting better, look at me.” Ilya smiled, looking down at his bare chest, his newly adorned loon pendant with his crucifix complimenting the flannel he stole from Shane.
“Not literally.” Ilya let out a small laugh, watching Shane look him up and down, his eyes slowing at his midsection. He lightly pressed his hand into Shane’s arm, “I made enough food. Hopefully.”
Their eyes panned down to the plates, full of food that could honestly feed an entire family. But Shane and Ilya were both pro athletes right? They eat more than most people would guess they could, but that was mostly Ilya.
“Yeah.” Shane pecked Ilya on the cheek, handing his coke out to him. “Thank you, seriously, solnyshko~”
“You’re learning so fast.”
“Sunshine, right?”
“Da. Now how about… kotyonok.”
“Kitt—-“ Shane’s face suddenly went red, a smile fighting its way onto his face.
“Kitten. Yes.” Ilya grabbed Shane’s chin, seeing his eyes meet his. “Let’s eat.” He pressed his lips into Shane’s softly, quickly pulling away before Shane made it go further.
***
“Okay.” Shane pressed his laptop closed, setting it on the table next to the couch.
“Okay what?” Ilya pulled his blanket up more, reaching his hand out for Shane.
Shane adjusted his glasses, crossing his arms. Ilya pouted, slowly retracting his hand to his chest. He followed Shane’s eyes to the tv, the Admirals game from last Saturday night playing a montage of Scott Hunter’s plays so far. Ilya didn’t care, content on observing Shane watch the dinosaur on the tv who did his second hattrick in his eight million years playing.
“Uhh… I booked my first appointment. It’s in a week.” Shane turned, taking in how cuddly his boyfriend looked. “He’s a guy named Brant. He’s the best in Montreal, so they say.”
“Who is they?” Ilya pressed his head into the pillow behind him, watching Shane roll his eyes at the question.
“Reviews. Ilya. Reviews.”
“Oh.” Ilya nodded, looking at the tv, the montage finally over. “Are you okay with other people knowing?” Ilya palmed his face, the words escaping him before he could rephrase it.
“Maybe…” Shane’s voice caught on the last syllable, causing Ilya to whip his head back towards Shane.
“Shane. It’s okay.” Ilya shifted, scooting his head so that he would be resting on Shane’s lap. “They won’t judge you.” Rubbing his fingers into Shane’s knees, careful to avoid his bruises.
“Will they? How could you be sure?” Shane sniffled, Ilya feeling his hands in his hair.
Ilya felt it, he didn’t have to see Shane to know when he was crying. Not just a sniffle here and there, but full on tears. “Hey, It’s okay… baby.” Ilya’s voice was soft and thick like honey as he sat up, analyzing Shane’s wet face before quickly pressing a kiss into him, lingering for a few too many seconds.
Shane pulled back, his voice small, “Ilya… I.”
“It’s okay.” Ilya cupped Shane’s face, brushing his thumbs along his freckles.
“I don’t know. Maybe I should just ca—“
Cancel? No. Absolutely not.
Shane moved for his laptop, Ilya grabbing his wrist, returning them to Ilya’s shoulders. “No. You can’t. You already made it this far.”
Ilya sighed, “I’m sorry. You just need to try it. Just once.” His expression softened watching a look of disbelief on Shane slowly dissipate. “Please. Trust me.”
“I’m sorry.” Shane frowned, a storm cloud filling the living room slowly.
“It’s okay, it’s just…” Ilya paused, wanting to carefully choose his next words. —you haven’t even tried it yet. “—you need help.”
Ilya closed his eyes, frustrated with himself at that point. “I want you to get better Shane. I don’t like seeing you… so upset.” Ilya felt his eyes sting, blinking away the tears before Shane could see them.
“I know.” Shane stared into Ilya, readjusting himself moments later to actually look at him. “You’re right. I haven’t even tried it yet.” He said as his hands found their way to Ilya’s waist.
“Good.” Ilya leaned in, both of them slowly starting to smile wider and wider as their lips grew inches apart.
“We’re on the same page, yes?” Ilya whispered, feeling Shane’s fingers find their way into his mess of curls.
Shane closed the gap, a long thoughtful kiss putting whatever tension was left to rest. “Yes.” He whispered, pulling away, Ilya’s eyes feasting on how beautiful Shane looked even when he was teary eyed.
“I’m glad.” Ilya smiled, pulling Shane on top of him, kissing him madly.
Therapy in one week.
He’ll be okay until then. It’s only up from here.
***
Shane stirred, rubbing his head as he reached for the alarm clock. “Fuck how it 5:30 already…” Shane groaned, feeling his head ache while he tried to focus his eyes on the man next to him in bed.
Ilya was still sound asleep, his hand firmly wrapped around Shane’s left arm. “Ilya, I have to get up and—-“ Ilya whined, wrapping himself around Shane’s waist. Fuck he’s so warm. The feeling of Ilya made Shane guilty that he had to leave Ilya all alone in their cozy bed.
“Okay.” Shane said, laying back down. “Just a little bit longer. Okay?”
Ilya hummed, the vibration pulling Shane by his ankles back to sleep. “But I’ll have to get up.” He barely got it out before giving up, his hands ending up in Ilya’s hair just as he drifted back off.
***
“Holy shit!” Ilya heard Shane yelp as he sat up, rubbing his eyes hard.
“What are you doing?” Ilya’s voice sounded coarse and still full of sleep as he spotted Shane darting to the bathroom.
“I’m late for my therapy appointment, remember? It’s today!” He shouted from the bathroom, his mouth sounding like he was brushing his teeth already.
“Already?” Ilya asked himself quietly, throwing the sheets away from him. He turned himself towards the alarm clock next to him, reading the number but it wasn’t making sense to him.
9:20
“When is your appointment?” Ilya asked, rolling out of bed, quickly throwing on whatever clothes were on the floor next to him.
“Ten thirty!” Shane said as he sprinted from their bathroom to the closet across the door, ripping the door open swiftly.
Ilya followed him, perching himself on the door frame with his hands in his pockets. The sight was marvelous, the ‘always early never late’ Shane Hollander was putting on his jeans with a speed comparable to guys that change tires on race cars.
“You have seventy minutes Shane.” Ilya rolled his eyes as Shane’s socks flew onto his body.
“Yeah but…” Shane snatched his brown leather jacket off the hanger, shoving his arms inside like he would die if he wasn’t out the door in the next thirty seconds. “I need to be early.”
“It’s not a big deal Shane. You won’t be late.”
“It’s an hour from here Ilya.” Shane pushed past Ilya, nearly breaking into a sprint for the door before Ilya caught his wrist, pulling him back in.
“You have ten minutes to spare.” Ilya said calmly as Shane tried to pull himself free.
“Ilya, I need to go. Seriously.” Shane sounded more impatient with each syllable, Ilya’s grip tightening instead of just letting him go.
“Hollander.” Ilya said sternly, causing Shane to stop and look at him, huffing.
“What.”
Ilya pulled Shane back in, his stone cold face changing into a softer one. “Please get something to eat on the way.”
Shane rolled his eyes, making a big show of raising his brows. “Mkay.” Shane started to tug against his wrist, hoping to free it. “Will do.”
“I’m serious.” Ilya’s eyes stung, his view of Shane becoming blurry as he moved in for a hug. “You’ve been doing so good. Don’t stop now.” Ilya squeezed Shane hard making Shane wince at the force. “Please.”
Shane sighed, leaning into Ilya’s hug. “Okay. I’ll stop by for something quick. But I have to go, like now.”
“Okay.” Ilya whispered, pulling away. Shane looked apologetic, his anger had vanished into something more guilt-like.
“Ya tebya lyublyu.” Shane muttered, messing up the last word which was always tricky for him.
“Love you more. Always.” Ilya pecked Shane on the lips, his hands slipping out of Ilya’s soon after.
“See you in a while!” Shane shouted from down the hall, already coming to the front door.
“See you.” Ilya face palmed at his perfect English grammar, the lack of slang was concerning when he wasn’t flirting over text with Shane.
Please just eat love. You need to.
***
Ilya was torn awake by the sound of his phone ringing between the couch cushions. The right side of his face was numb and wet from drooling. Gross, Ilya thought to himself wiping his mouth and reaching for his phone.
Shane.
“Hey,” Ilya answered the call, yawning loudly for no reason. “Everything okay?”
The other side was silent, only the sound of the loud road making any kind of noise.
“Shane?” Ilya asked, checking to see if he had turned the volume down or something.
“Yeah yeah hey. I just uhh, wanted to tell you
I’m about to be home, and I have food for you.” Shane chimed from the other side of the phone, his voice sounded tired but still held a tinge of joy in it.
“Okay, see you in a bit.” Ilya hummed, looking out to the lake, seeing a raft of loons floating in the water.
The call end tone ringed in Ilya’s ear, it was unlike Shane to just hang up on a whim like that.
Weird.
Ilya eased back into the couch, not putting up a fight when his eyes got heavy. Instead grabbing at the thick plush blanket by the armrest, tossing it over himself.
***
Ilya could smell Shane. Like a lot. As if he was right next to him. He felt warm, uncomfortably so. Was it the blanket that he had over him? No. He left his legs uncovered which were actually freezing. Ilya stirred, keeping his eyes closed as he leaned over, bumping into someone that was next to him.
It was Shane. There was no one else that smelt the way he did. Ilya’s eyes peaked open, the sight of Shane smiling at him greeted his hazy eyes.
“There you are.” Ilya murmured, reaching to put his fingers under Shane’s hat into his hair. Shane grabbed his hand, putting it on his cheek instead as Ilya rubbed his thumb against his freckles. “How was therapy?”
Shane started humming, twirling one of Ilya’s curls in his fingers. “It was okay.”
Shane paused for a long time, Ilya deciding to end it with a dumb open ended question, “Anything else happen?”
“Well…” He started, taking his time to sort his words much like he did his trophies when dusting his trophy room. ”It was weird talking to someone other than you.. about it.”
“But was it good?”
“Yeah. Brant was nice. He… uhh let me talk a lot and gave me ‘coping strategies’ to use, whatever that means.” Shane tugged on a strand of Ilya’s hair, the long curls fit nicely between the tips of his fingers.
“That’s good. Very good.”
They both stayed silent for what could’ve been years, the distant sound of lion calls by the water making them both giggle as they remembered Ilya getting scared the first time he heard it.
“Would you go back again?” Ilya asked earnestly, praying the answer might be Hollander’s usual boring yes.
“I think so.” Shane bent down, planting a firm kiss on Ilya’s soft lips. Their hands find each other to brush softly against.
“I’m glad.” Ilya smiled, pulling away like a love drunk idiot staring at his boyfriend, who even in this moment, still thought he was perfect.
“Thanks Ilya.” Shane nodded, inhaling sharply as he reached for the tv remote.
“For what?”
“Recommending therapy. I probably wouldn’t have gone, if it wasn’t for you.” Shane extended his arm out, wrapping it tightly around Ilya.
Ilya sighed, the smile from earlier returning to his face, and it seemed to not want to leave now. “I love you, Shane.”
“I love you too Ilya.” Shane whispered, flicking the tv on to the Admirals versus San Francisco game from two days ago.
Ilya groaned, throwing himself to the opposite side of the couch. “You’re in love with Scott Hunter I swear.”
“No I’m not.” Shane laughed, moving to lay down on his boyfriend's stomach, “I already have the best player in the NHL right here, and I love him so so so much.”
“You’re too kind Mr three time Stanley cup winner.”
“Shut up.” Shane said, pulling Ilya’s blanket over them, feeling the heat of Ilya’s stomach against his cheeks as he lay down.
“You’re good too, you know.”
“Yes, but you’re better and that’s final.”
“Fine. You’re right,” Shane mumbled as his eyes became too heavy to keep open, the sensation of Ilya playing with his hair making him sink deeper.
He’s still the best. Best boyfriend ever. Shane thought before letting his eyes close, the sound of the crowd cheering for New York comforting him.