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Hayden woke up feeling like shit.
He had gone to bed with one hell of a headache and a stuffy nose, popped some ibuprofen, and asked the concierge to wake him up at five so he could make it to practice. He’d told himself it was allergies, as the weather had been all over the place in Ottawa, warm enough that things were blooming even in early February. But, he knew he was lying to himself. Ever since he landed in Ottawa his body had been all out of wack, so he kind of expected to get sick eventually. He just hoped it would have held off a little bit longer, or more like closer to the end of the season.
Instead, it seemed like he used all of his luck on this trade.
Which was how he ended up in the back seat of Shane and Ilya’s car, doing his best not to slam his head through the window, while Ilya’s current obsession, some song called FYA, rattled around his brain.
Shane, being the ever emotionally intelligent person he was, had noticed something wasn’t quite right the second Hayden had hopped into their car, but Hayden had brushed it off to a bad night’s sleep, which wasn’t entirely a lie. He’d been up for basically half the night with hot flashes, the kind that left him restless and damp, convinced he was about to die, before finally passing out sometime around three in the morning.
But, Shane kindly hadn’t pushed him to tell the truth, even if he’d felt like Hayden was hiding something.
The real reason Hayden was on his way to practice instead of lying horizontal in his hotel room came down to Montreal. Ever since Shane and Ilya had come out, which was partly his fault, Hayden had been frozen out by the team. Whether it was anger over him keeping their secret or something uglier, he’d never been able to tell, and at some point he’d stopped trying.
But, what he did know was that the Centaurs had pulled him out of that situation. They’d given him somewhere to belong again, and he wasn’t about to repay that sliver of hope by calling out sick three weeks in. He wasn’t going to forget that, even if his head felt like it was full of cotton.
He must have drifted off at some point because the next thing he knew, Shane was shaking him awake.
“Come on buddy.” Shane said quietly and carefully, like he knew Hayden already felt like he was getting stabbed in the head with a thousand toothpicks and would fall apart if he spoke any louder. “Let’s get through practice, then you can sleep after.”
Hayden nodded and immediately regretted it, the movement sending a white-hot spike behind his eyes. He got out of the car anyway. One foot, then the other. The cold air hit him like a brick wall, forcing him to stop in the parking lot just to catch his breath before falling into step behind the other two towards the locker room.
He could do this. He just had to get through practice.
It was only a couple of hours. Easy.
On second thought Hayden couldn’t do this.
He was missing simple passes, fumbling over his skates, and forgetting drills. Troy even skated over to check on him, clapping a hand on his shoulder, which nearly sent him face-first into the ice.
He barely had time to catch himself on his stick, heart hammering. Troy grabbed his jersey to steady him, keeping a firm grip until Hayden could get his feet back under him. When Hayden finally looked up, the coach was watching.
So was Shane.
And at some point, while Hayden was trying to convince Troy he was fine okay, Ilya started watching too.
Luckily, there was a quick break before endurance drills. So Hayden spent it circling the ice trying to pull himself together.
It wasn’t working.
But, while he was deep in thought, Shane and Ilya started circling him too close enough to keep an eye out on him, but not enough to make him feel boxed in.
Ilya called out, “You look like a baby deer, Дружище. Thought you were professional.”
The sudden noise startled Hayden out of his thoughts and sent him careening towards the boards. Luckily, Shane had been close enough to stop him from colliding with the wall by grabbing a hold of the back of his jersey and pulling him closer to his chest.
“Hayds! Are you sure you’re alright?,” Shane asked worriedly. “You’re sweating more than usual, and you’re as pale as a ghost.”
Hayden pushed him away, “Thanks for the concern, but I’m fine. I just need some water, okay.”
Shane nodded and let him skate away, watching him head to the bench and take a bottle of water handed to him from one of the athletic trainers.
Coach Wiebe called everyone to the line and soon they were running full-ice suicides. And true to its name Hayden not only felt like he was about to die, but wished he would.
For some reason, he was lined up next to Ilya, who kept mouthing off about how slow Hayden was going and such. So instead of conserving what little energy he had left, Hayden pushed harder.
It was stupid, and he knew it was stupid, but he did it anyway.
He had just finished the last set a half a step ahead of Ilya when his knees just… stopped.
Like that was even possible.
And the last thing Hayden saw was the ice rushing up to meet him.
When Hayden came to, he was freezing, most likely due to being drenched in sweat from his fever and lying on the ice. But, he was not entirely uncomfortable for some reason. He blinked up at the rink lights overhead, trying to remember where he was.
“Дружище, Дружище!”
Oh.
He must be lying on Ilya.
That thought cut through the haze faster than anything else, and suddenly he was aware of everything, the ice under him and the voices meshed above him.
“Pike, Pike, are you awake?” Ilya, somewhere on his left.
“Hayds, wake up for us, please.” Shane on his right.
“What happened?” asked Hayden, his voice rough. Not really remembering what had happened after finishing the drill.
“You passed out.” Shane said, while slipping off Hayden’s helmet from around his head to check his temperature.
Hayden tried to wiggle away from his touch, but Ilya pressed down firmly on his shoulders, and said “Enough, Дружищe. Why didn’t you say you weren’t well?”
“I am well,” Hayden shot back, still managing to mock Ilya at the same time.
Shane huffed, “Sure. Tell that to your fever, and I don’t know maybe your past self, who just passed out on the ice.”
Hayden let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, I’m sick. Happy?”
Ilya smacked his arm, before saying, “Stupid Canadians. Sit up and drink water, idiot.”
Shane helped sit Hayden up against Ilya's chest, before handing him a bottle of water. The trainer showed up not too long after. He checked Hayden over, asked him a few questions Hayden answered mostly on autopilot.
Fever. Dehydration.
Go home. Rest. Fluids.
Hayden opened his mouth to argue…
“No,” Shane and Ilya said at the same time.
Shane squeezed his arm. “And because you clearly can’t be trusted, you’re coming home with us.”
Hayden didn’t even have the energy to argue, so he just nodded and let himself be pulled up onto his feet.
Hayden allowed himself to be dragged to the locker room, where Shane helped him out of his gear. He then sat there, half out of it, while Shane and Ilya changed out of theirs.
The three then said a quick round of goodbyes to the team on the way out. Hayden also tacked on a quick apology for interrupting practice, which was immediately drowned out by a hurdle of responses like:
“Don’t be sorry.”
“Just feel better quickly.”
“Listen to the captains,”
“Get some rest.”
Before Shane and Ilya grabbed his things and slowly walked with him to the car.
Ilya threw all their stuff into the truck, while Shane got Hayden settled in the back. He gave Hayden his jacket to use as a pillow and helped him stretch out in the back. Then, jumped into the front seat and said, “Yell, out if you need us to stop, okay bud?”
“Yeah, don’t throw up on leather.” Ilya tacked on, as Shane slapped him upside the head.
Hayden chuckled and nodded his head, but he didn’t really feel nauseous anymore, just tired. So, he closed his eyes. He was once again shaken awake by Shane when they pulled up, and not to his hotel, he registered dimly, blinking up at the unfamiliar building. Right. They’d said something about that about him going home with them and he hadn't really had the bandwidth to argue.
Shane grabbed their things, while Ilya grabbed a hold of Hayden, and carried Hayden into the elevator, not waiting for Shane to join them. He pressed the button to the top floor and said, “You sure are heavy Pike.”
Somehow finding the energy to argue, Hayden chirped, “Well no one asked you to carry me, now did they superman.”
“Well, would you like me to put you down? That’ll be fun, we can see which direction you land?” Ilya teased.
Hayden punched Ilya in the shoulder, but wasn’t in the mood to egg him on, causing Ilya to laugh. Ilya maneuvered Hayden slightly, so that he could punch in the code to the door, before making his way to the living room and getting Hayden comfortable on the couch.
Ilya had set him down on the couch with more care than Hayden expected, then disappeared and came back with a blanket. He fluffed the pillow once, twice, and then stood back and looked at him like he was trying to figure out if Hayden would be more comfortable with another pillow or another blanket, before deciding it should be good enough for now and if Hayden needed more, he could let them know.
Hayden looked back at him. “You don’t have to…”
“I know,” Ilya said, and went to find Shane.
Hayden must have closed his eyes for a second, because when he opened them again, Shane was kneeling in front of him with what looked like medicine in one hand and a thermometer in the other.
The sight of it hit him somewhere unexpected. He’d been sick before, obviously, but usually that meant a quick run to CVS or something or suffering alone. Nobody was kneeling in front of him with medicine that hadn’t happened since he was in high school, when his mom looked after him. Now, nobody usually even notices in the first place, until today.
The thought made his eyes unwillingly get watery, so he groaned and turned away from Shane facing the back of the couch, because acknowledging that felt like too much right now.
Shane laughed, quiet and unbothered. “Come on Hayden, It’ll only be a second.”
“Yeah, don’t be baby Дружищe.” Ilya said from his spot on the recliner, not looking up.
Hayden flipped him off over the back of the couch, but he swallowed the cold medicine and let Shane press the thermometer to his forehead. It was easier than arguing, and he was so tired of arguing.
“102.3℉”, Shane said, and let out a slow breath. “And you were trying to practice like this.”
Hayden shrugged. There wasn’t really anything to say to that. He knew it wasn’t smart, but he wasn’t about to explain his reasoning to them right now.
“Are you still feeling nauseous? It looked like you were this morning,” Shane questioned.
He noticed that too. Of course he had. Hayden stared at the ceiling for a second, eye filling once again due to the idea that Shane had been paying that much attention to him, filed it away, and brought it back up now.
“No, I’m okay now,” Hayden said. “Just tired.”
“Okay,” Shane stood, pocketing the thermometer. “Then, get some sleep. We’ll make soup.”
From the recliner, Ilya made a noise that wasn’t quite an agreement and wasn’t quite an objection either, but when Hayden glanced over, he was already getting up. He brushed his fingers over Hayden’s hair before following Shane to the kitchen.
Hayden watched them disappear into the kitchen, then turned back to the ceiling.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone had just taken care of him. It was such a small thing, soup and medicine and a blanket, and it was already making his chest feel tight in a way he didn’t entirely trust himself to look at directly.
So, he closed his eyes.
He could think about this later, particularly when he didn’t feel like death.
The next time Hayden woke up, it was to the smell of something delicious and quiet laughing in the background. Hayden felt his stomach rumble, so he slowly sat up, waiting for the spots to disappear, before unsteadily standing up and walking towards the direction of the noise.
Ilya saw him first. “What are you doing up Дружище. Someone should be walking with you, you’re unsteady.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just hungry, I smelled something good coming from here.” Hayden quipped.
Shane sighed, “Just let one of us walk with you next time, please to make me feel better.”
Hayden wasn’t used to this, people worrying about him, but he nodded to give his friend some peace of mind.
Ilya guided him to a chair, while Shane ladled out a bowl of what looked like chicken noodle soup and set it in front of him. Hayden wrapped both hands around it, let the warmth seep in, and looked up to find the two of them watching with the particular expression of people not even pretending like they weren’t just staring.
“Eat,” Ilya said, and looked away first.
Hayden finished the soup slowly, eating more than he expected to. Shane refilled the bowl without asking and Hayden didn’t argue, which felt like its own sort of progress. But, when he set the spoon down for the second time, Shane was already reaching for the medicine. Hayden took it without any theatrics, swallowed, and handed the cup back. Ilya watched all of this from across the table like he was supervising, which was somehow both really annoying and settling.
“Okay,” Shane said, standing. “Guest room.”
“I can sleep on the couch.”
“No, we let you sleep on the couch for a nap before dinner, but now you need a real bed.” Shane was already moving toward the hallway. “Come on.”
Hayden looked at Ilya, who raised an eyebrow in a way that clearly meant don’t bother arguing with him, because I agree too. So, he pushed back from the table and followed Shane down the hall
The guest room was small and quiet, with the kind of stillness that hotel rooms could never quite manage. Shane pulled the covers back while Ilya set a glass of water on the nightstand without being asked, and then they were both just standing there, even when Hayden was sitting on the edge of the bed, nobody left. It seemed like they had something else to say so Hayden waited in silence.
"Why didn't you say something," Shane said, breaking the silence first.
Hayden looked at his hands. "I'm new."
"That's not …"
"I know it's not a great reason." He exhaled. "I just …I needed everyone to see that I could handle it. That I was worth bringing over." He paused. "After Montreal I didn't exactly leave with a lot of confidence that people wanted me around."
The room was quiet for a moment.
"Montreal wasn’t your fault," Ilya said, from the doorway. His voice was even, matter of fact, the way he said things he'd already decided were simply true. "What they did to you was not fair. You kept our secret because you are a good friend. They should have seen that."
Hayden looked up at him. Ilya was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, not quite meeting his eyes, like he was embarrassed or nervous he had said something so sweet to someone who wasn’t Shane, or maybe it was just because he’d said it to Hayden.
"Yeah," Hayden said, after a moment. "Well that didn’t happen, and it made me feel like I had to prove not just you guys, but also to myself that I deserved to be here. I wanted to feel like I was allowed to belong somewhere and be happy."
Shane sat down next to him on the edge of the bed, tearing up slightly. "You don't have to earn your place here, Hayds. You're already here. That's enough."
Hayden nodded. He didn't entirely believe it yet. His feelings weren’t the kind of thing that could just change overnight, but maybe after some time they would.
"Get some sleep," Shane said, giving Hayden one last hug before standing. He squeezed Hayden's shoulder once before letting go. "We'll be here when you wake up."
Ilya pushed off the doorframe. "Don't make it weird and cry about it," he said, which was Ilya for I meant what I said before and I’ll be here if you need me, and honestly, Hayden was already starting to get that.
He laid back against the pillow and listened to them move around the condo, voices low, the soft sounds of an evening winding down, leaving behind the comfort of a place where people were able to live freely. This wasn't his home. He still had a hotel room with a view of the canal and a framed photo of his parents he felt embarrassed about on the dresser and three weeks in his back pocket of learning how to exist somewhere new.
But his chest felt looser than it had in months, maybe even longer. He wasn't better yet, his head still ached and his body still felt wrung out, but somewhere underneath all of that was something that felt the semblance of being okay.
He'd be alright.
As long as the two of them were around, he thought he'd be alright.