Chapter Text
Did anyone like hospitals?
Ilya wondered as he sat in an empty hospital room waiting for Shane to be brought back in.
Once they arrived at the hospital, the staff had taken him away, wheeling his limp body away on the stretcher. Shane had thankfully remained conscious on the drive to the hospital, and Ilya had been able to say goodbye to him. But now, sitting alone, Ilya felt there was no way he said enough.
He didn’t even know where they were actually taking Shane, or what was going on, or what happened to Shane’s shoulder. His arm? He could barely keep it together.
So sitting in the private room they’d designated Shane—that the resident told him he could stay in until they brought Shane back from surgery—he was shaking. Now that he was truly alone and didn’t have his brain working back and forth recognizing and ignoring the eyes on him in the arena, he didn’t know what to think. He couldn’t comprehend now that there really was no one looking at him. That there wasn’t an audience he was either forgetting or too aware of. There was just him. Alone. Waiting for Shane.
The TV in the room had been turned on when Ilya arrived. It was on mute, showing the local newscast. Some NBC-10 talking head was alerting him of the impending rain next weekend. Then, the news cut to a Boston sports update. The Celtics won their game, the Red Sox lost, and the Patriots lost. Quick clips. Then, the headline: UPDATE from TD GARDEN. Apparently the game had already been on the news enough to warrant an update. The clips started with the two teams walking out. Ilya’s and Shane’s goals, then their face-off. It was weird, for Ilya to know what he said to Shane at that moment, but not be able to hear it.
Ilya knew the hit was coming after the face-off but seeing it couldn’t have prepared him. They played the clip from an angle a close, ice-side camera must’ve gotten. Shane has the puck back from the rebound and is turning to skate the perimeter behind the goal when Price comes barrelling at him in an attempt to get the puck. He could see the moment Shane’s right side slams into the boards, and the snapping impact of his head. Had Price been there a second earlier, Shane would’ve seen him coming and adjusted and then none of this would have happened.
The way Shane dropped to the ice was worse than the initial hit. His body went immediately limp.
Just to rub it in Ilya’s face, though, the channel proceeded to show a replay of him skating over to Shane and holding his hand. Freeze frame on it. Analyze it. Jesus. He never wanted pundits analyzing his relationship, no matter if they were out or not.
Ilya heard the door open behind him and was about to shout at whoever was coming into the room. He turned around and saw Yuna Hollander walking through the door. Ilya had only seen her up close a couple of times. Each time, she was put together, professional, and always beautiful.
But here, she looked like she just stepped off the plane and came out of a wind tunnel. Ilya was pretty sure she actually had.
The two of them stared at each other. Neither spoke.
Of course, Yuna took the first step. “I was wondering if you would still be here or if you just helped Shane into the ambulance.” Her voice was steady.
Ilya shrugged, “I am here as captain. Didn’t want Hollander to be alone.”
Yuna’s brow furrowed, “You left in the middle of the game so Shane didn’t have to be alone?”
Ilya nodded. “Yes. Is correct.”
Yuna leveled a stare at him. “I know you’re lying to me, Rozanov. But I really do not have the time to worry about it. Are you-”
Ilya interrupted her, “I am here for Shane. That is all. I am here as me, for Shane.” He weighed what Shane might want. He needed Yuna to understand, though. “He asked for me. Is what he wanted on the ice.”
He knew that Yuna wasn’t ridiculous or unaware, he knew that she could grasp there was something more going on from what he said. If she couldn’t grasp it from his words, his state probably would help. He was still just in his underlayers, not having changed out from when he shucked his pads off. His hair was a mess, his eyes were red, and his face was pale. Sullen. Scared.
“How did they let you into Shane’s room?” Yuna asked.
“I would not leave,” Ilya said, like it was obvious.
Yuna squares her shoulders, “Okay then. We will both be. Here, for Shane.”
She sits down at the chair on the other side of the room. Ilya sat back in his. They stared at each other, looking between each other and the TV showing Ilya and Shane on a constant loop.
Ilya’s leg started to bounce. “You know what is wrong with him, yes? They will not tell me. I am not family.”
Yuna looked down at the reminder of Shane, not here in the room with them, but away in some distant hotel room as strange surgeons work to fix him. She was wringing her hands. “Yes.” She cleared her throat, “He broke his collarbone and separated and tore his AC joint, in… in his shoulder. And a concussion, of course.” She wipes her eyes, harshly. “Again.”
Ilya’s body shuddered. For himself, and the reminder of Shane’s prone body that will be burned in his mind, and for Shane. He knew how much hockey means to Shane. An injury like this…having to sit out for any amount of time would kill him. And Ilya probably just made it so much worse by outing the two of them in a live hockey game. Was he ruining Shane’s life?
Yuna interrupted his line of thought. “I am glad you are here, you know. I’m glad that Shane wasn’t alone.”
“Mm. Yes, of course. I could not leave him. Not even if I wanted.”
Yuna let a small smile through. “That’s all that matters to me—that someone cares. That you care.”
Just as Ilya was about to respond, nurses started filing through the door, breaking the safety the two of them had built as they waited for the person that connected them.
A nurse rolled Shane’s bed in, and Ilya and Yuna shot up. The nurse looked at both of them, “He did well, don’t worry. It was a significant displacement in his clavicle, but they were able to realign it with the plates. They were able to repair the ligament in his AC joint, separation as well. He was a good patient. He’ll be out of it for a bit, but he shouldn’t feel any pain when he wakes up.”
“Thank you, we’ll be here for the night. I’m Yuna.” She held out her hand for the nurse to shake.
Yuna looked to Ilya. “Yes,” he clears his throat. “Ilya. I will be here too.” He held out his own hand.
As the nurse left Ilya could feel the air in the room settle for a moment. With Shane back between the two of them, it felt more okay. It still wasn’t right, for Shane to be asleep under the drab, white hospital quilts. It was weird, for Yuna to not be talking his ear off about hockey like Shane always said she did. It felt wrong for Shane to be lying in front of Ilya, without Ilya cuddled next to him, keeping him warm.
The two of them stayed at Shane’s bedside, each holding one of Shane’s hands, with no concept of the passing time.
After some undefined silence, Yuna stood up and grabbed her purse. “I should update David about his condition. He couldn’t come…I don’t want him to worry. I can’t believe I forgot.” She put her jacket on. “You’ll stay with him?”
A deep sense of pride rolled through Ilya at Yuna’s trust in him to watch over Shane. Yuna trusted him to stay with Shane, and actually wanted him too. He couldn’t ask for more.
Ilya nodded thoroughly, “Yes. I will not leave.”
“Thank you,” Yuna brought her hand to her heart, and turned to leave the room.
Ilya knew, logically, that there would be some other discussion that would have to happen between them all to work through the truth of what he and Shane were. For them all to understand and accept. But right now, he couldn’t have asked for more.
They could get through it, minute by minute.
A few minutes after Yuna left, Shane began to stir, groaning and attempting to move around on the bed. Ilya thought he might mess up some of his injuries again—he couldn’t help but be overly worried. He tried to calm Shane.
“No, no—Is okay, you are okay. I am here. Don’t move.” Ilya said calmly.
Shane’s eyes slowly opened, and he took in a deep breath, looking at Ilya.
He breathed out, “Ilya.” For a moment, just looking at Ilya, he was calm. As he gained more consciousness, he looked around the hospital room. His franticness from waking up returned.
“Ilya, what happened?” Shane said, voice as stern as it could be with tears pricking at his eyes and the left side of his body almost unable to move.
“Is okay, I promise,” Ilya looked deep into Shane’s eyes, trying to convey that he truly was not alone. He gripped Shane’s hand tightly, trying to ground him.
“What do you remember?” Ilya asked.
“I know I got hit by Price.”
Ilya nodded. “You want to know what doctors said, yes?”
“Please,” Shane replied, his eyes closed as if he was bracing for the truth.
“Okay. You tore shoulder joint and broke your collarbone. They fix it. You will be okay. And I forget, concussion too.”
Shane let his head fall back on the pillow, “Fuck.” He breathed out. “At least I can’t feel it.”
He turned to Ilya, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Shane asked.
“Don’t worry about it. I am here,” Ilya responded. “Game is over.”
“Where is Mom?”
Ilya smiled. “She is here. Just went for coffee and to call your dad. I like her. You should hang out with her more often, maybe I replace you. Get a different Hollander. less issues, hm? She’d support my hockey.”
“As long as you play for Boston she is not supporting anything. And I think she might hate you. Whenever your name came up it was with the words “massive asshole.”
“That’s you, yes? And no. She likes me. You were just being boring sleeping with the doctors while we talked.”
“She likes you?”
Ilya nodded. “Yes. We have much in common. We like same things. Hockey, you, you playing hockey,” Ilya gave a small smile, looking up from Shane’s hand he was fiddling with.
“Of course. Ilya and Yuna. Best friends. That’s actually a little scary.” Shane furrows his eyebrows.
“You are the mysterious apartment murderer I thought?”
Shane laughed, presumably thinking of a younger version of the two of them meeting up at his bought out apartment. Thinking of how scared they’d been that someone would see.
Now, Ilya feels like he’s more scared of people poking their noses where they don’t belong and messing with the good things they have going. It’s less about terror over being outed and more about terror over their private life turning public.
They’ve existed in a bubble of warmth and light the whole time they’ve been together—what happens when sports journalists and photographers start to pop it with their flashing lights and intrusive questions?
It makes Ilya question who the real version of himself is. He’s been doing it a bit lately. He knows two Ilya’s.
The first is the one that is here, right now, at Shane’s bedside. The one that kisses Shane’s head after he turns the light out and before he bundles into bed with him. This Ilya is quieter than Ilya on the ice. Still teasing and laughing but without the layers and layers of added mystery the asshole behavior is hiding. Ilya doesn’t want to be a mystery. He wants to be known. This Ilya…he gets to be known by Shane. And that’s enough.
The other Ilya, the one that he wakes up and turns on at the sight of a sunny day, is louder. A grin that took over his face the second after he held a grimace that made him look like he’d never known anything good in his life.
He doesn’t know how to reconcile them. He isn’t sure which version Shane needs right now.
Or which version the press will want to know, now that they inevitably have questions as to Ilya’s reaction on the ice.
They must have seen the love in his eyes—he honestly isn’t sure how anyone else didn’t see it. For all the versions he has, there is always that deep Ilya and his emotions right below the surface.
Maybe that’s just for Shane though.
Shane turned to him, “Nobody will tell me what happened on the ice.” His smile was gone.
Ilya sighed, and looked away from Shane’s face for what felt like the first time today.
He worked the words around his mouth. “You know Price took you down.” It was much scarier to tell Shane than it was for Ilya to come to terms with it for himself.
“And…I did not know what to do. I saw you on the floor. I felt like my heart stopped. I could not breathe, you have to know. You were not awake and I thought the worst of it.” Ilya sniffed, looking back at Shane’s big eyes staring him down from the hospital bed.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” Shane had tears in his eyes.
“Is not your fault. I’d hurt Price if I did not know he felt even worse about it.” Ilya kissed Shane’s hand, keeping it held to his mouth.
Shane caressed his face, outlining his brow, his cheekbones, his nose. Like he was acquainting himself with this Ilya on the verge of collapse. He ran his fingers through Ilya’s hair, still a mess from his sweat and helmet.
“Is my fault, this part. I went to you when I saw you on the ground. I even fought through your stupid bad at hockey teammates because they were blocking you from me.” Shane laughed.
God, Ilya thought, if he could just keep Shane laughing and happy and not have to tell him that he ruined their secret, he would give anything.
Ilya cleared his throat, “So I went to you and I would not let them take you from me. I needed to hold your hand. Let you know I was there. Is important.
“And you knew I was there. You,” Ilya got choked up. “You said my name, so I did not let them make you be alone. I came with you off the ice. Stupid Bouchard is yelling at me and I do not care, I go with you. I stay with you.”
“In the ambulance,” Shane started, “I wasn’t even thinking about the game. Ilya you should have stayed, you had to stay at the game, it’s important.”
Ilya shrugged, like the suggestion of him leaving Shane was too ridiculous to even consider. “I do not care.”
He continued, “They all saw me leave with you. Hold your hand. Is over. I mean, our…secret. Is over. That is only mistake I made. I am sorry.”
Ilya’s leg was bouncing, energy building up until he told Shane the reality of their situation, all releasing at once.
Shane looked away from Ilya. “Everyone knows?” His voice was quiet.
Ilya nodded.
Shane was quiet for a moment. “I think I would’ve done the same, if I were you. If I had to see you go down like that.”
“I guess I don’t know what I expected. I wasn’t really thinking about everyone else there.” Shane smiled. “I just know I wanted you when I came too. That was all I could think of. I knew you were there, on the ice, and I wanted you. I needed you. I was so scared and your hand was in mine and I knew that I didn’t have to think about what they were doing to me because you were there.”
Ilya nodded, but the words were stuck in his throat. “But…I ruined us. Our secret is not secret. I did that. You are hurt already and I hurt you more.”
Shane looked more focused than he had all day, looking at Ilya. “You didn’t ruin anything. I love you, Ilya. I love you for being here for me and for making me feel safe. And I love you and…I think maybe I don’t care as much what everyone else thinks. I know I love you. I know I’ll make you feel safe, against all of them, if you let me.”
“You do make me feel safe, Hollander. I love you, too, if is not obvious.”
“But,” Ilya started, “I don’t know if I want sad, injured Shane Hollander with no working right arm and melting head to protect me, yes?”
Shane hit Ilya’s shoulder, “I hate you.”
Ilya smiled, “Yes, is true I am sure.”
Maybe he could be both, Ilya thought. He could be the warm, safe, and private Ilya. He could sit by Shane’s bedside and whisper sweet nothings to his ear and help him recover. But he could also tease and be loud and be the reckless teenager Ilya who somehow attracted Shane and all this fame in the first place. Maybe he could just be Ilya, for all he is. Help Shane heal, yes, but also let Shane in. Let him heal Ilya. Let them take on this next battle—as it surely would be a battle—together.
If his team and Boston and all the people who wore his jersey on their back hated him for loving Shane, he could leave.
He believed, sitting next to Shane, in the bubble of their warmth, that there would be a place out there for him to be both Ilya’s. A place for him to be a boisterous asshole of a hockey player who happened to be deeply in love with everybody’s favorite, Shane Hollander.
Yes, it would be very nice.