Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Shane
Whatever happens, I am with you. Safe in your heart. I believe it.
Shane reread the message and gently stroked his phone screen, imagining Ilya’s strong fingers typing the message in fear, with tears in his eyes, his last thoughts in this life were to comfort Shane.
“Fuck,” Shane managed to gasp out and started to cry again. He was in a fetal position on the bed of the hotel room in Washington after the game had been cancelled.
Hayden sat on the other bed, looking distraught, surrounded by a wild assortment of items he had procured to comfort Shane: tissue boxes, coconut water, a kale smoothie, a ginger ale, a Snickers bar.
“I know, bud, can I do anything?” Hayden asked tentatively.
“Nothing to do,” Shane mumbled, closing his eyes and squeezing fresh tears out of them. The last 3 hours had been a blur: he had been annoyed in the third quarter losing against Washington, when the owner of the Washington team made the announcement that the game was cancelled, as the Ottawa Centaur’s plane had crashed. Shane vaguely remembered running to his phone, seeing Ilya’s messages, calling him repeatedly and then breaking down in the locker room. Luckily Hayden found him and got him to the hotel room as fast as possible before anyone could see. Since then, Shane had felt like his lungs were 50% smaller, every breath was short and ragged, just like when he went hiking in the mountains.
Probably because your heart is broken and taking up all the space in your chest, he told himself.
He frowned at the dramatic sentiment, then thought of how Ilya would react to this: his handsome brow furrowing, hazel eyes searching for a teasing response that would simultaneously comfort and irritate Shane. The thought of it made Shane release an awful noise; a mix of a sob, cough, and chuckle.
“Uhhh that didn’t sound great, are you…” Hayden started to move toward Shane.
“I’m not okay at all, Hayden.” Shane snapped. He then immediately felt guilty. “Sorry, I do want you to know that I appreciate you being here, I just don’t know what to do besides… cry?” Shane let out another odd chuckling noise.
“Me too, dude.” Hayden said defeatedly. Shane looked up and saw that Hayden did indeed have tear marks on his cheeks. “Do you want to hear anything about the… um… crash? Sometimes knowing more helps.”
“I just hope it was fast. I can’t bring myself to imagine if Ilya was in pain at all” Shane said, his stomach twisting at the thought.
“No no no! It was fast, I’m sure he didn’t feel a thing!” Hayden suddenly moved toward Shane to comfort him, knocking the open ginger ale can on its side. “Shit, I’ll go clean this up.”
“Okay, my parents are probably about to call anyway.”
As if on cue, Shane’s phone lit up with Yuna’s face. Shane sat up, rested against the pillows, and pressed answer.
“Hi, Mom”
Shane didn’t really listen to his parents. Both cried, kept apologizing, and reassuring him that he would be okay, that Ilya didn’t suffer, and that a crew was searching for remains. Instead, Shane reread Ilya’s last words on his phone as his parents kept talking. Shane responded with a “yeah” and an “I know” every once in a while, just appreciating their presence as he read.
You are the best thing in my life.
Shane felt an overwhelming amount of love, guilt, anger, and sadness. Not only was the best thing in Shane’s life gone, but Shane had put in so much time and effort into hiding this love that Ilya had given up so much for. Ilya, who had moved countries, teams, left family and friends for Shane, and Shane hid him in Ottawa.
I love you. Always. Maybe from the first time I saw you.
Shane closed his eyes and desperately searched for the memory of a rink parking lot in Saskatchewan. He remembered being intimidated, pissed off, and confusingly intrigued by the tall, masculine, smoking, cold Russian teen. Maybe that was love at first sight. Shane wondered, because Ilya Rozanov had not left his mind since that day. It had taken years of figuring himself out before realizing what love was, and now Shane cursed himself for wasting precious time. The idea that Shane would ever not choose Ilya over hockey was so stupid now. He would give up all the Stanley cups, the endorsements, the money, the sport of hockey, if it meant he could have one more day with Ilya.
I am thinking only about you right now. A million memories. Thank you for those.
We were supposed to have so much more, Shane thought. They were so close to figuring out their master plan of coming out and getting married and having dogs, a cat, and some kids like they talked about. Shane wanted to grow old with Ilya, wanted to be the old couple that argued over what to watch, take naps together, and fall asleep together for decades. He wanted a million more passionate and steamy fucks. He wanted a wedding with all his friends and family there, to profess his love to Ilya proudly in front of a hundred people.
Whatever happens, I am with you. Safe in your heart, I believe it.
The first few hundred times Shane read this message, he had felt like he was experiencing grief like no one else in the world had. Now, hearing his parents' voices and seeing Hayden furiously trying to clean spilt soda, he felt something else: a glimmer of hope that Ilya was here with him. If Ilya’s last words to him were a promise of love and presence, it would be very “them” for Shane to disagree, but ultimately accept it. Shane let out a third inappropriate chuckle at the thought of having a heated debate with his rival, his love, over Ilya’s last words.
“Oh sweetie… it’s ok to cry” Yuna’s voice pulled Shane back to the present. Shane was glad his Mom confused his amused snort for sobs.
“I’m gonna go, Mom, I’m here with Hayden. But, thank you, I’m sorry too. I love you guys so much.”
“Okay, Shane. Love you”
Shane hung up and looked at Hayden. “Hey man, if you wanna go, it's ok. I should probably call, like, Rose, and Ilya’s friends.”
“Are you sure?” Hayden looked concerned. Shane nodded, and Hayden got up.
“Please eat or drink something, you haven’t since the game. Promise me.” Hayden said.
“Ok, Dad” Shane said and tried to smile.
Hayden returned a half-smile, and started toward the door. Shane watched as he lifted his hand to the doorknob and froze.
“Hayden…?”
Hayden swayed for a second, and Shane realized what was happening a split second too late. Hayden fell backward, miraculously landing with his head on the towel he had just used to mop ginger ale. When Shane reached him, Hayden’s eyes were fluttering wildly and his mouth moving.
“What the fuck! Hayden, are you having a seizure?” Shane was cradling his head in his hands, looking for his phone that he had left on the bed. Before Shane could move, Hayden went still in his arms.
“Hayden?” Shane croaked, defeated. His heart was pounding. Shane couldn’t go through any more tragedy today.
Hayden’s eyes opened into Shane’s.
“Ugh, I think I stood up too quickly,” Hayden said, “I’m gonna go lie down for a sec.”
Shane helped him up, half-carrying him to the bed.
“Are you sure you’re alright? Any nausea? Did you eat? Oh shit Hayden, you were taking care of me and probably forgot to drink water and eat. Where is your phone? Should I call Jackie?”
“Just let me relax for a few, I’ll be fine. This has happened before- you wouldn’t believe how often. My mom too, actually, maybe it’s a blood pressure thing.” Hayden said.
“Okay, well I’m gonna go get some ice for you,” Shane said, his dark eyes still red from crying, but now determined, and he marched out the hotel room door.
Hayden closed his eyes for a second, realizing that although passing out sucked, at least it helped snap Shane out of his grief coma.
And I didn’t hear any voices that time, Hayden thought. The last few times he had passed out, he had heard voices talking to him, and he always meant to ask his mother about it, as she was a local medium in his hometown. She had a reputation for being incredibly kind to strangers who wanted closure with their deceased loved ones. As a kid, Hayden believed she had super powers. He still believed she had a special gift, but wasn’t sure if he believed that she was fully capable of communicating with the dead.
“Hayden Pike.”
Hayden’s eyes flew open.
“Shane?” Hayden peered toward the door, which hadn’t made a sound. “Oh God,” realizing what was happening.
“No, Hayden Pike, it is your favorite hockey player, Ilya Rozanov.”
Hayden heard the Russian accent so clearly and even though he was lying down, he immediately passed out again.