4 Works by xpityx
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Summary
When the unsentimental financial imperative of the NHL sees Shane traded to the Boston Raiders, he and Ilya are thrown into closer extended proximity than ever before. As they adjust to life as teammates, they are forced to contend with the nature of their relationship -and must answer for themselves: is it even a relationship at all?
____Sliding down the wall, Shane hunched over his untied sneakers, shoved on hastily when Coach had called him in for a meeting after morning skate.
“Boston wanted you specifically. I’ve already spoken to their GM. You’re flying this evening or tomorrow morning: I’ll confirm once the paperwork clears.”
“Mom,” Shane managed.
“Oh sweetie. I know, okay. Those fuckers, how dare they do this! Two fucking cups! Now all of a sudden they decide they want a reset and you’re going to fund it.”
Shane put his head between his knees and tried to breathe. God, Boston. They hated him there; it was so far away; he was fucking their captain.
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It had taken six minutes for Jack to locate the GPS tracker on Robby’s bike, another two to find the number for the motel and call them, and another two for him to get his work mobile and call for an ambulance. Robby had already been unconscious by the time the kid on the other end of the line had found the right key and opened the door. The ambulance had gotten there when Jack was at Pittsburgh International, his worry almost a physical force, holding him down in the uncomfortable waiting room seats. There was no way to know how much of that time Robby had spent hypoxic.
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An overdose on a lonely stretch of the I-94 leaves Robby intubated in a tiny four-bed ICU, hundreds of miles from home. Jack manages to get there in time to watch him wake up, but the true aftermath begins when their flight lands back in Pittsburgh.
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When Ilya has a horrific accident on the ice, Shane snaps into action before his heart has even begin to piece together why.
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The video JJ sent was just captioned oh shit. It jumped straight to a corner battle—Boston’d had a home game against the Nomads last night. Shane had only caught the score, exhausted after his own game, but now dread pooled in his stomach. What did oh shit mean? He could see Rozanov racing after a loose puck and then a Nomad defender came in from the side with a shoulder check. Rozanov caught an edge and pitched forward just as the defender caught Rozanov at the wrong angle, sending him head first into the boards.
Shane made a high, frightened noise he’d never heard from himself before.
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Centuries pass, nations rise and fall, names change, but Ilya remembers.
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Hasegawa Shigeru opened his mouth to reply, but Ilya was lost.
No longer warm, an icy wind cut through rough clothes to bite at the patches of skin that he’d bared to the elements. White snow and black, tall trees. A man trudged beside him, his hood up, his feet sure in the snow. He turned and smiled and Ilya’s heart tipped over with love. Hasegawa Shigeru. It was Shigeru, but dressed in clothing in a style much older than those Ilya had worn on his own shores, but still undoubtedly home.
Shigeru spoke to him, but not in a language he knew. Old words and old clothes, and an old love, so deep that it brought tears to Ilya’s eyes.