Work Text:
The darkness felt like a hug.
The room was almost silent, the hum of their air purifier and Ilya‘s gentle snoring, the only sound in this pre-dawn light.
In a few hours, their lives would start again. Ilya would get ready to go to the rink, have practice. Shane would go to his physical therapy sessions, come back home probably before Ilya even did. He would get back home, eat something, fill in the evening with the television or playing some games.
It starting to feel like a drag. It settled in his bones heavy. The thoughts pressed him to the bed, made him want to move more, faster, all at the same time. Shane’s life sometimes felt like an oxymoron. He needed one but got the other. It had happened to him from a young age. He’d been fifteen when he realized that even though he wanted stability and routine, he got sudden changes, his every week followed a different routine.
Even now. Especially now.
Sometimes it felt like the only space Shane had to share and feel his emotions, was in the dark of night, under the cover of Ilya’s gentle snoring. It felt lonely. He couldn’t begin to describe how alone he felt, lying next to his boyfriend, but being so far removed from him at the same time.
Shane felt like he needed to be a rock.
He knew that Ilya had never said it with as many words, but he felt it anyway. This inside pressure to be steady, present, consistent. Someone to talk to, someone to be there, someone to support.
Not someone who needs to fall apart at the drop of a pin. Not someone to flinch at the falling of a glass, at the rusty smell of blood. It was not always like this. Ilya had never said that he needed Shane to be that. Never with any words. He’d said the opposite. Each time Shane had wanted to open his mouth, talk to him, his brain short-circuited.
Most days, Shane was perfectly fine. He picked up the pieces and felt good.
This week had just been hard. Maybe he had been saying that for a few weeks now. He hadn’t even noticed it, as the days went by. Maybe that was the big thing. Maybe that was the thing that really should have tipped him off that he was deeply unsettled.
But he was safe here, mostly. He had Ilya to look at; he could run his fingers through his hair and breathe.
He had his boyfriend.
He had a good life.
He loved hockey.
They had the cutest dog.
He loved his family.
It was not always enough, but it reminded him why he pushed it all to the background.
The sun came up around the same time that Shane got on the treadmill. His shoulder was acting up – not the first time, and certainly not the last time – but this, he could do. His shoulder had been acting up ever since Marlow had boarded him and broken his collar bone. It came and went, depended on the weather. Ilya had started asking him if it would rain.
Getting boarded again, hard, had not helped him either.
He watched the slow rise in the sky as he pushed himself. He kept bargaining with himself, his watch keeping track. Just five more minutes and he could add some stevia to his cup of coffee, a splash of soy milk. Just five more minutes after that, and he could go cuddle with Ilya after his shower, if he was not awake yet.
His shirt clung to him with sweat as he cooled down and eventually turned off the treadmill. He couldn’t wait to hit the shower and get the sweat off. He hated the feeling it gave his skin; he hated how sticky he got and how much he smelled to himself.
He tiptoed to their bedroom, making sure not to make too much noise. It was only six in the morning; Ilya would not wake up for another hour. It was looking good for his snuggles.
He managed to close the door gentle enough, so that Ilya did not even stir. The even bigger win was that Anya was sleeping peacefully in her bed. With the water on as high as it could go, he undressed, throwing his clothes in the hamper. He’d need to put on a load of laundry when he got back from therapy.
It got added to the list for today. The list that by the afternoon would only grow into a never-ending task list. A list that, to his weird brain, gave him some peace and quiet.
He would do them all while Ilya was out, just for the three weeks that he was out of commission during games. Shane did not know when he would be allowed back in, if anything, he was hoping to get news soon.
He missed the ice, the sounds of his skates, the comradery of his team. Their team. He still could not believe that he was so lucky. Playing on the same team as Ilya felt magnetic. The fact that he was not the captain did not bother him.
He ran it through his brain as he showered, letting the scalding hot water run over his skin. At first, part of him had been disappointed. He lived for the game. But he saw the connection Ilya had to his team.
He fit in like a glove; they played in sync. Ilya was the leading force in this game, whether Shane liked it or not. At first, it had stung, like a papercut. Now, either he had numbed down to it, or he’d accepted that this was just the way that things were supposed to be.
It was hard to tell which it was.
He turned the shower to cold, let the ice run over his tired muscles. Ice baths had never been much for him, but he loved the way his skin reacted to the abrupt change in temperature.
Shivering, he turned off the water and quickly toweled dry. He could not risk turning on the hair dryer but got his hair as dry as it possibly could. It was just about damp by the time he slipped back under the sheets.
Ilya had turned around since. It gave Shane a beautiful look at his back, the muscles that spanned it. He was gorgeous. Even like this. Even if all Shane could see was a few inches of exposed skin.
He slid himself behind Ilya and curled against him.
Thankfully, he did not stir, just mumbled something in Russian that sounded awfully offended and endearing, all at the same time.
Once he woke up, he would feel better. Once they got the day started, everything would be better.
‧˚₊‧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ⟡ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ‧₊˚⊹
Shane was listening to children’s music in the car. Specifically, baby music. In timing with his turn signal, someone was singing about tomatoes and carrots. Apparently, it had been the only thing to keep Amber soothed these past weeks and honestly? If Shane had to pick between screaming and singing vegetables, it was an easy choice.
It did make him reconsider agreeing with Jackie and Hayden’s plan. Or, more specifically, Jackie. He had always had a weak spot for her. Someone who was willing to put up with Hayden for that long deserved an award, himself included, and the fact that she still loved him after all that time? Oscar worthy.
As Shane had done his meal prep, put smoothie kits in the freezer and finally taken the last load of laundry out of the drier, the final item crossed off of his mental checklist, when a new item had added itself.
Jackie and Hayden were in town for the weekend with their youngest and had asked if they did not mind if Amber came to hang out. In any other situation, he would have probably said yes, he absolutely minded.
The thing was, Shane did not mind. It gave him something to do. Hayden and Jackie deserved the time off. If anything, this was the reason they had a car seat in the garage. He never minded. He always loved hanging out with their kids.
But vegetables?
Amber was babbling in the background, in that typical way that honestly made very little sense to Shane. Every seventh word he understood, but even those did not make any sense together.
Anya was in her crate in the back, snoozing, if he knew her at all. Car rides always seemed to lull her right to sleep, as if she knew she needed energy for the exciting thing that would ensue. They would have a quick pit stop at the rink before going back home and waiting for the boys to finish off whatever they were still doing.
It still felt odd, not to go on and train with the rest of them. It had been a few weeks and would still be a few weeks before he could properly skate with them. He still visited, did some on ice practice. But not a lot of it.
The Centaurs loved surprise visits. Especially Anya visits. Shane did not know who loved who more, if it was the boys Anya, or Anya the boys and their hockey pucks. Most of all, she loved chasing them across the ice like tennis balls.
Amber, in exchange, loved watching them play. She was sitting in her baby carrier, facing the ice, watching as the blobs of color flew from one side to the other. Shane also loved watching them play.
They were talking by the boards, getting ready to finally go change, when Anya finally gave them away. She’d been whining nonstop, Shane almost convinced that he would have been noticed earlier, but the noises had been drowned out by pucks hitting the boards.
Ilya looked over at the sound of her chipper little bark. Shane loved the grin that stretched over his lips. It used to be such a private smile. One reserved for hidden moments between them, for their house.
Now, it could be merged with hockey as well.
“My princess!” Ilya grinned. Anya happily flew after him once Shane unclipped her lead and what ensued could probably best described as absolute chaos. Ilya was not the only person on the team who loved dogs. She made the rounds, to each and every player, checking if they had given her attention before the pucks were flying back and forth.
“Next time,” Harris said from next to him, “you let me know.” Once he’d heard the excitement on the ice, he’d appeared with his phone, ready to get some dog content for Instagram.
“You’re saying fans would kill for seeing big burly men calling dogs their princesses?” Shane knew firsthand they would. He had been that fan, watching the content appear while he was still with the Metro’s. When all of this was still a deep secret.
The memory hurt, but he swallowed it down. This was better.
“They miss you out there.”
Shane threw Harris a sad smile. “Me too.” Shane knew that in all likelihood, he was wasting a lot of what was among his final season. He had to be realistic. His body was not recovering as well as it used to.
As little as five years ago, the boarding that had gotten him in time out would have affected him for a week or three, he would not be out. Now, it felt like a major set back.
For most of his life, he had thought that something major would need to happen. Life altering, for him to quit hockey. Now, he was not so sure anymore. Hockey had given him a lot, it was true. Hockey had given him Ilya.
Hockey had also taken a lot away. In just the past few weeks and months, he had lost friends, respect and maybe also passion.
Ilya was home here. He saw it, in his eyes. Ilya was tired, but he was home. He enjoyed himself. Even if his body would decide to give up, he would appear as a coach, as staff. He would find his way in.
Shane was not so sure that he wanted that anymore. It was why he had been so eager to take Amber along. He was starting to think, this was where his mind was veering instead.
It was just a little pit, in the back of his mind. It would be paperwork, it would need to be carefully planned and then put in waiting. But one day, he could imagine it. A tiny human to raise themselves. They would freak out and consider it a bad idea, but, it would be their tiny human.
Occasionally, it flickered.
The only issue was, that he did not know how. He struggled adjusting to Anya. He struggled with the toys and the beds and remembering who had fed her and taken her on a walk.
This little bit of domesticity, visiting Ilya on his ice rink, it let him think, dream. Even if it was for just a moment.
It was for his own brain only anyway. Private. He had not said a word to Ilya about it, and it probably would stay that way.
‧˚₊‧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ⟡ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ‧₊˚⊹
Evening fell slowly, gently. It was dark by the time Ilya finally returned home, exhausted, but grinning. They had eaten dinner in the kitchen, Shane mostly pushing stuff around on his plate. His stomach did not know what to do with the thought of food today. He had drank most of a protein shake in the car, but he knew that even within his plan, it did not work.
Now, they were lounging on the couch, watching not much of anything. Shane was playing with Ilya’s curls and his head in his lap. He loved that Ilya felt so comforted by it.
“It was nice seeing you, and my precious baby. And a Pike. That was optional.”
“I listened to songs about vegetables on the way over,” Shane offered, knowing that he would get that exact grin he loved. The one that he’d first seen all those years in Tampa. “I liked it too.”
Shane felt melancholic tonight, as if his brain was tying to catch up on things it could not comprehend, but was sad for any way. His brain and his thought felt heavy, even if he could not say why. He wasn’t even thinking of anything specific.
“Shane?” Ilya gently touched his cheek. He had not even noticed that he had spaced out, that half of the episode of the show they were watching had passed on. He watched the winner be crowned, but did not remember what they had even done to get to his point.
“Yeah?” he feigned, smiling with as much warmth as he could manage.
“Are you okay, moy lyubimyy?” Ilya felt soft, but on edge. As if there was something on his mind. Something itching.
Shane just nodded, fingers back in his curls, twirling methodically. He loved the feel of his curls between his fingers. Even after being on skates, his hair always felt clean. Gentle.
“You are sad again,” Ilya offered, always too observant. Shane had learned that, noticed. Noticed that Ilya noticed a lot and kept it safe in the vault in his head. He stored information until he had a puzzle, where the pieces mostly fit. If he used again, it was not the first time that he had noticed his moods.
“A little.” Sometimes, Ilya was better at recognizing his own emotions than he was. Often, when Ilya asked him, the word fit the lock. It suited the emotion, even if Shane would have never classified it as such.
“Talk to me, solnyshko.”
“I am okay baby.” Shane knew he was. Even if he wasn’t he would be. He just needed to get some rest, get back on his skates. Get his life back in a routine. “I just, got lost in my head. Thinking.”
How do you tell someone, that you might be sad, like him. That it might be a gnawing conscience that he doesn’t know what do with. A sleeping monster that has felt like it has always been in the back of his brain. That has spoken to him about never being good enough. Not tough enough, not muscular enough, not sociable enough. That that creature is at his most awake in the mornings, whenever he is alone. That he has been alone a lot.
“You’ve barely eaten. Getting up before the birds. Distracted. Talking in your sleep. Yuna says you’re avoiding her calls.” There was something in Ilya’s gaze. Something that unlocked something deep in his heart. “You are not okay.”
Shane did not even know when they had talked on the phone. He had missed one of her calls the other day, but called her back, eventually. She had not liked it. But, he was thirty, no longer a little kid.
His face had to have pulled some sort of look, because he got a gentle oh and Ilya was out of his lap, sitting up instead to look at him. It was only when he was pressed into the soft fabric of Ilya’s shirt, that he realized he was crying.
Maybe part of him had been waiting for Ilya to ask.
Had this been what Ilya felt like? Had this been what Ilya had been hiding? Did he just need the correct questions? The correct support? Or was he falling apart at the seams with a worried look and a question like a child?
He should not be doing this anyway. Not to Ilya, not to Ilya with so much on his plate. Not when Ilya had been through so much already. He was held, comforted, but it felt like his brain was disconnected from the rest of his body. While he melted against Ilya, his brain was running a million miles an hour, telling him how bad of an idea this really was. The implications it could have on him, on their relationship.
Shane did not like feeling vulnerable. It was no secret. Ilya and he, they were safe. They were a safe space. Yet he felt the strings of control slip back in. His brain was yelling at him for letting this happen.
His heart was happy.
His heart screamed, finally.
‧˚₊‧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ⟡ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ‧₊˚⊹
Shane woke up in bed with no recollection of how he got there in the first place. Ilya was tucked closely against him, arm holding on tight, like a seat belt. The sun was already high in the sky and the first thing he felt, really felt, was the jab of panic at the delay of his schedule.
God, he longed for a day, where this was not the first feeling upon waking up. Where he wasn’t sluggish, where the world did not seem to end at the thought of placing a foot outside of the bed. Where the perfect did not seem to translate to being himself, but instead to preforming to the role he was meant to be.
That meant a hockey player. That meant moving, working out, looking good, being muscular. That meant following his plan to a T. He was already off the mark. He has slept too long, it meant that it was no longer balanced.
Ilya stirred next to him, pulling him in even tighter.
“No run away train thoughts,” Ilya mumbled against his shoulder, “too early. Shoo them away.”
God, it was too early for this. His eyelids desperately wanted sleep.
Maybe, it was healing. Maybe it was picking himself. He closed his eyes again, went back to sleep.
‧˚₊‧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ⟡ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ‧₊˚⊹
Ilya gave him approximately fifteen minutes into his fake coffee, before he talked. Before he cornered him in the living room, two plates in his hands. They were simple, all in all.
Eggs, a slice of toast, some avocado. The bread lightly buttered.
“I made breakfast.” Ilya slid next to him on the couch, pressing the plate in his hands. For a moment, the only thing Shane wanted to do in that moment, was panic. His head immediately went to snapping, walking away. Telling Ilya that he did not understand. That the diet was good for him.
God, he was tired of losing control.
Instead, he took the plate, managed a smile, set it on his lap. Ilya turned on the television to the morning news. It was something that neither of them really watched, cared for really. But it was distraction.
He prodded the egg with his fork. They were perfectly fluffy. The exact same way that his mom used to make them. It smelled like the kitchen of his youth, when there had still been calm mornings, where they could do whatever they wanted. When the world was not hockey.
“It will not eat you, I promise.” Ilya had a small smile on his face, but it felt strained.
Ilya, who took care of everything at home. Who had needed to make sure everything was perfect for his family. Who had been the lackey.
Whose love language was sex, but also taking care of others.
Who was challenging him because he loved him.
Shane brought the fork to his mouth, just the eggs. At first. God, it had been a long time since he had anything with as much flavor as this. At just the one bite, his stomach grumbled.
So eat, he did. He ate methodically, slowly. He chewed, letting the flavors sit on his tongue. It was not his shakes. It was off of the plan and his head was screaming at him.
But he enjoyed it. God, it had been so long since he had allowed himself to actually enjoy a food instead of mechanically eat it for the nutrients.
Shane swore he could taste the love. It did not make the sirens in his head disappear, but he swore it made them easier to tune out. He drank down the vitamin Ilya passed him with the last of his barley coffee substitute, putting the plate on the console table in front of them.
“Thank you.”
Thank you for forcing my hand, thank you for letting me cry. Thank you for challenging me. Thank you for being the one person to see through my walls. Thank you for understanding that I care. Thank you for taking me, even when I do not know myself how to express anything.
“For everything.”
Shane knew that one plate of food did not fix everything. But it broke a pattern. It was a pattern that would need to be broken thousandfold.
But he could do it. He would do it. For Ilya. For himself.